An ultrasound picture sits in front of his computer, next to a photo taken on our wedding day. My husband could not be more excited. He’s about to be a dad.

He proudly replaces a picture of us skiing from his phone's home screen with the ultrasound of our little bean, a reminder of the miracle baby he will soon get to hold.

One of the things that attracted me to my husband was his love of children. His eyes would light up around his nephews as he showed them how to build a tower of blocks, or push a light up tractor. I pictured him playing on the floor with our kids.

When one of his friends had a baby he always made sure he brought them a large bag of diapers, a Starbucks gift card and if they happened to have a girl, a box of shotgun shells for all those potential suitors, 16 years down the road.

But this time it was his turn to be a dad, his turn to receive the diapers, the congratulations, the new shotgun.

For 8 weeks my husband was able to celebrate fatherhood. To daily look at his miracle baby’s photo, to jokingly say, “be nice to me, my wife is pregnant".

And while we celebrate the life of that child, no matter how short, I will always remember the devastation I saw in my husband’s eyes when he found out he would never get to hold his baby.

So on this day, Father’s Day, I celebrate my dear husband. A daddy to the baby he will never hold.

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