Pat_Elliott
<font color=blue>Kimberly's proud papa!</font><br>
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2001
- Messages
- 1,213
Hi Ya'll,
I'm hoping to convince my wife to actually log onto the Dis for a minute tonight and have her read this post. I hope you'll join me in sending her greetings from your keyboards around the country and the world at large. I defiantly offer PD, prayers, and HUGS to all those in need today and thank you for continuing to send the same. My wife will probably kill me for this, as she's a private person who shuns public displays of affection. But right now, I can't help myself, because she's there, I'm here, and I'm missing her birthday for the first time since we met in 1990. And I want to share her with you folks who have strangely become so important to my mental health the last three months, because she's worth sharing. I offer a letter to my wife.
Hi love,
Today you're turning 39 and you're having to do it from a small room in an antiseptic facility some 90 miles from your house, your bed, your husband, your cat, your comfortable chair, the kitchen table where you love to sip coffee and look out at your woods, and the neighborhood that gives you peace and tranquility. I know you miss these things. I could simply say you're having to turn 39 away from home, but that trivializes what you're going through and it isn't exactly correct. Home is where the heart is. And you are in my heart every second of every day.
We spend much time each weekend and on the phone each night talking about how lousy the situation is, but I wonder if you sometimes think I'm not fully aware of what you're going through. My trials are nothing. I find it very Amy-like that your biggest concern when telling me not to drive up tonight was the strain of my making another 4 hour round trip for such a small time with you. Since I can't share your burden, I find my "trials and tribulations" to be liberating. Anything I do, I do it because I can, and it's only the feeling that I can't be there 24/7 and the guilt of being able to live at home that leave me helpless. Doing things for you, well I'm really doing them for me.
As for you, I can't put into words the admiration I have for you. Love is easy. Being best friends is a labor of that love. But *** of now and forever more, you're also my hero. You're one of the smartest, caring, hard-working people I know. We both know what we've been through going on four years, and we know that if the doctors asked a hundred people to do what you're doing, 99 of them would have balked. But instead, you took a deep breath and did whatever they asked and found a way to make it work. That's dedication. And class.
So on your birthday, I want you to know that there may be mothers out there as dedicated and selfless as you, but there isn't one that was, is, or will ever be more-so. You are the bravest person I know, and I plan to spend the next thirty years explaining to my daughter that she's a miracle of your perseverance. If I wasn't married to you and had never met you but heard your story, you'd not be my wife nor my best friend. But just hearing of your bravery, persistence, and love for your unborn child, you'd still be my hero. And I'm sorry to take such a private matter along with your birthday, but I wanted to yell this to as many people as I could; My wife is special.
Happy birthday my love. In about 34 days we'll all be here in Happy Valley and I promise we'll never leave (accept for those occasional trips to Orlando). And let me say it one more time: You are my hero.
With love,
Pat
I'm hoping to convince my wife to actually log onto the Dis for a minute tonight and have her read this post. I hope you'll join me in sending her greetings from your keyboards around the country and the world at large. I defiantly offer PD, prayers, and HUGS to all those in need today and thank you for continuing to send the same. My wife will probably kill me for this, as she's a private person who shuns public displays of affection. But right now, I can't help myself, because she's there, I'm here, and I'm missing her birthday for the first time since we met in 1990. And I want to share her with you folks who have strangely become so important to my mental health the last three months, because she's worth sharing. I offer a letter to my wife.
Hi love,
Today you're turning 39 and you're having to do it from a small room in an antiseptic facility some 90 miles from your house, your bed, your husband, your cat, your comfortable chair, the kitchen table where you love to sip coffee and look out at your woods, and the neighborhood that gives you peace and tranquility. I know you miss these things. I could simply say you're having to turn 39 away from home, but that trivializes what you're going through and it isn't exactly correct. Home is where the heart is. And you are in my heart every second of every day.
We spend much time each weekend and on the phone each night talking about how lousy the situation is, but I wonder if you sometimes think I'm not fully aware of what you're going through. My trials are nothing. I find it very Amy-like that your biggest concern when telling me not to drive up tonight was the strain of my making another 4 hour round trip for such a small time with you. Since I can't share your burden, I find my "trials and tribulations" to be liberating. Anything I do, I do it because I can, and it's only the feeling that I can't be there 24/7 and the guilt of being able to live at home that leave me helpless. Doing things for you, well I'm really doing them for me.
As for you, I can't put into words the admiration I have for you. Love is easy. Being best friends is a labor of that love. But *** of now and forever more, you're also my hero. You're one of the smartest, caring, hard-working people I know. We both know what we've been through going on four years, and we know that if the doctors asked a hundred people to do what you're doing, 99 of them would have balked. But instead, you took a deep breath and did whatever they asked and found a way to make it work. That's dedication. And class.
So on your birthday, I want you to know that there may be mothers out there as dedicated and selfless as you, but there isn't one that was, is, or will ever be more-so. You are the bravest person I know, and I plan to spend the next thirty years explaining to my daughter that she's a miracle of your perseverance. If I wasn't married to you and had never met you but heard your story, you'd not be my wife nor my best friend. But just hearing of your bravery, persistence, and love for your unborn child, you'd still be my hero. And I'm sorry to take such a private matter along with your birthday, but I wanted to yell this to as many people as I could; My wife is special.
Happy birthday my love. In about 34 days we'll all be here in Happy Valley and I promise we'll never leave (accept for those occasional trips to Orlando). And let me say it one more time: You are my hero.
With love,
Pat
Happy Birthday! Hope you will be able to enjoy your day. Please know that we continue to keep you in our thoughts and prayers. God Bless!
I need to start storing tissues by the computer. 
