It has been over twenty years since Father's Day wasn't (at best) an annoying contrivance, or (at worst) a fucking painful shit-storm. Obviously having your father die young makes the holiday pretty terrible. Miscarrying (for the second time) just days before makes it even worse. (Especially when some dumb-ass-bitch sees you and your mourning husband and best friend at a restaurant and chirps, "Or are we celebrating father's day?")(No we are trying to get food that we don't have to make or clean up because it's too much effort to live right now, but thanks for your contribution.) Last year held a bit more hope, but let's face it- I spent my entire pregnancy metaphorically holding my breath, just in case I somehow jinxed things.
But today.
Today was the fucking greatest.
Today I got to hang out with the father of my son, who is everything I could have hoped for in a human-raising-partner, and also with our son, who is the latest manifestation of my own father's genetic legacy.
So yeah. Today was awesome.
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