It's Father's Day. I have to keep reminding myself that I don't have to dread it anymore. Father's Day isn't the day I give a mass with a gaping wound in my chest (that's...not a literal wound. Just...just in case..) and I don't have to miss my daughter so much it aches. Instead, she brings me jellybeans, having eaten all the yellow ones because I don't like them. And Anna reads me a story. And dear Sweet Caleb tells me he's so glad he has someone to give a Father's Day card to. I think I may have squished him a little when he said that... Tasha gave me dangly cow skull earring. His name is Bobo Jr. And Deirdre sent me a card. Thank you, Deirdre. Very much. And my Thomas cooed at me which melts my heart every time.
Aly and I went in to see her specialist...apparently she'll work on Sundays for Aly. We had an ultrasound done. They're going to have to monitor her pregnancy so closely, so it's good to know what we're getting in to now. It's twins. There are two babies. How many of you bet I'm going to fall over trying to take care of four babies? Aly wants to do this, so we're doing it. We're just going to be very very careful, and make sure everything progresses the way it should. The doctor gave us a lot of advice (and a few lectures, thanks) so we know what to do.
Torn