My Facebook is flooded with Father’s Day tributes today.
Of course it would be, and I don’t begrudge anyone posting the things they are, because we will be doing exactly the same when it’s our turn.
But it’s just that. I honestly thought by now it would be OUR turn.
Last June, it didn’t affect me so much because I genuinely believed that by the time this Father’s Day came around we would be pregnant or have a kid by now. I’d have got Dave a “from the bump” card. I’d have given my dad a “only the best dads get promoted to grandads” card.
And of course the build up has been there for weeks. The adverts on social media, the cards in the shops. I just put my head down and walked on by in Tesco on Friday. A whole aisle filled with cards, beer, clothes… How I’d love it if there was a section for the hopeful dads. That would make this pain easier to bear.
If I think it’s hard for me today though, I know it’s eating up Dave even more. We had a quick chat this morning when I wished him a Happy Father’s Day In Training but he said he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He hates this day as it is because of issues with his own dad (which I won’t go into here) so to have the emptiness in his heart of not having his own child by now is a double blow for him.
I think we’ll both avoid social media today. I know I will. My girlfriends are posting lovely gushy messages about their husbands (ladies if you’re reading this I’m NOT having a go – honestly) and many of Dave’s mates are dads and are also posting their own things about being a dad. It’s like being stabbed in the heart a thousand times over.
But the most painful part for me, is the guilt.
It is my fault I have not made Dave a dad yet. I made him wait too long. And now I’m not getting pregnant.
He’ll tell me off for writing this and say it absolutely isn’t true, but it is genuinely how I feel. I’m so frightened that one day he will get fed up with my infertility (if that’s what it is) and he’ll leave me for someone else who will give him what I desperately crave: a family.
He deserves to be a dad. And he would be the best daddy ever. A much better dad than I would ever be a mum. He’s such a natural with children. His paternal instinct is strong. When I see him with our friends’ kids, my ovaries swell and my heart bursts with pride. He picks up babies like a pro. He makes toddlers giggle without any effort. I admire him so much. And it is a travesty that he is not a father yet. It would make his world for him.
I often think of what we’d be like as parents. The day trips we’d go on. The routines we’d have. The parenting styles we’d adopt. Who would be good cop and who would be bad cop. I know that Dave would have more common sense about things than I would. We’d figure things out as a team though.
I can’t wait for the day that I get to reveal to Dave that he’s going to be a dad. But my heart won’t let me toy with the idea of how I’d do it. To protect myself I don’t even think about it, because I’m so used to each cycle not working out, what’s the point in getting carried away with fantasies?
I know there’ll be a lot of tears though. Tears that we finally did it. Tears that Dave finally would get what he so desperately wants. And tears that I would have finally been able to give him that.
No more guilt. No more fear. No more pain. No more heartache.
Happy Father’s Day Dave. Because in my eyes, you already are one.