I am thankful for the two hands that hold Lola up as she stands upright, taking in the world around her. They are the hands that sat beside her sister coloring when she was small; the hands that drove the three of us to a day at the museum because when Mommy met Daddy she came with a bonus; and the hands that put together her toddler bed and kitchen set. They are the hands that held up a piece of paper on our wedding night reciting vows that indicated his promise to love us both for as long as he lived. They are the hands that have wiped tears when my heart has been heavy, and danced with his daughter just because. They are also the hands that rubbed my head as tears fell with each contraction and gently rocked Lola in his arms mesmerized, because after 39 long weeks, he couldn’t believe she was finally here.
And now months later, these hands, well-versed in all things baby, are rocking a sweet baby to sleep, pureeing baby food, changing diapers, and making her fly. They hold the hands of an 8-year-old, a 9-month-old (and a 29-year-old too), holding up books as one leans on his shoulder and the other into the crook of his arm for a bedtime story. They are holding up a little lady who loves to stand on her own two feet, and searching for fallen pacifiers in the middle of the night while half asleep.
I could go on and on about the numerous things my husband’s hands do; how they rub my back after what has been a difficult day, reminding me that my best is enough and applaud which each one of my successes. I could go on because they do so much. And sometimes I forget, because they are doing the things that I’ve come to expect them to do, or because I am so focused on what is happening in my own world. But in the moments when I stop, I see things for what they are. I see the man who comes home from work and goes and plays on the floor with his baby as he listens to his 8-year-old talk about her day, holding in his grasp a list of spelling words. In those moments I am thankful for the two hands that came into my life and decided to stay. I am thankful that our children will go through life with him as their father.
I am thankful that his hands will always be there for each of us to hold. And oh how I love to see our baby’s tiny hands nestled in his.