A friend captured this moment between my oldest and her dad at our church's fall party.
I'm thankful for my incredible husband for many reasons, but one of the greatest is this:
When I got sick, really really really sick, he was there for me.
On the day I was knocking on death's door, he drove home from work, took me to the ER, and sat beside me as the nurses took vials of blood from my arms.
And when we sat in the ICU for a few days, and later, in a regular room, and the diabetes nurse educator asked us if we wanted to have kids,
we both said yes, without hesitation.
And when "adoption" grew in my heart, my husband listened as I shared why I was certain it was the right choice.
He got on board.
And now we have three, beautiful, funny, talented, rowdy kids who look nothing like us but are in many ways, mini versions of ourselves.
My husband is the kind of guy who is the only dad chaperoning the field trips or helping at the kids' school holiday parties. He's the kind of dad who doesn't think twice about changing a diaper, giving a middle-of-the-night bottle to a newborn, playing My Little Ponies, or preparing healthy snacks. He's the kind of dad who will soothe the little one who is having a bad dream, even if that means spending the entire night in her tiny, toddler-size bed. He's the dad who tells his kids, "I love you. I'm proud of you. You are beautiful." He's the dad who shows up and pays attention. He's genuine. He's affectionate. He's patient and mindful. The kids all shared the same first word: "Dada."
He's a rock star. A knight in shining armor. My Superman.
He's the real deal.
As we approach a season where thankfulness takes center stage, I'm very, very thankful for my guy.