My Husband. My Hero.

March 1st. A day I have been counting down to for the past eight months. The day I thought would never come. Today, is the first day of the rest of Joe's residency.

For the past eight months Joe has been working at hospitals in Seattle. Waking up at 4:30 and maybe returning 15 or so hours later. Nearly 400 times he made that awful drive. He says he can now make that drive with his eyes closed. I don't doubt that sometimes they were. I could tell by the bloodshot of his green eyes, which days they were. I would often tell him after a long day that he didn't have to come home. I knew he was tired. I knew it wasn't safe for him to drive feeling so exhausted after being up for 36 hours straight. But he never missed a chance to come home and see his girls. He knew that first thing in the morning the girls would ask if daddy was coming home that day. He never wants to disappoint his biggest fans. I always knew what days he wasn't going to be able to come home. Usually about 2 or 3 times a week. But often times I think he would be coming home, but then couldn't. Or it wouldn't be until well after bed time. It broke all of our hearts when we thought we'd see him that day and didn't.

For eight months he's lived this schedule. And never complained. Okay, that's a humongous lie. But compared to me, he's been an angel about the whole thing. I've often complained. I've cried. I've been impatient. I've been irritated at those he's worked with for being slow, thus making him late. I've been mad at the crazy patients who do stupid things to cause his day to last hours longer. I've been angry at him when he's called to say he's not on his way home. Oh, and I've been pregnant.

So while I don't expect for anyone to understand really what our last eight months have been like, I do wish to write a few of my feelings about this great guy in our lives.

Most of this blog is dedicated to our girls. Their daily quirks and silliness. I write about our good days and our bad days. Most of the time, Joe isn't even mentioned. He simply is gone so much that often times, he reads about our day before I can even tell him. And lately he's been gone so much, I have hardly even posted, because I'm just so darn worn out that I can barely think about anything other than when this day would finally come. When we would have a normal life again.

I re-realized these past eight months that I depend on Joe. I am happiest when I'm with Joe. I feel prettiest when I'm with him. I think I am funniest when I'm with him. I feel smart when I'm talking with him. I feel important when he's listening to my opinion. I feel like the only person in a room when he looks at me. I feel honored to be sitting next to him. Lately, because he's been gone so much, I haven't felt these things. And I've been pregnant. Call me weak, but it's true. I need Joe. I know I'm the luckiest girl to be married to him. And I know that he feels the same way about being married to me. I know that I am not taken for granted. I know that to him, I'm pretty special.

I am proud to be married to such a good guy. An honest guy, who does what's right. He's hard working and fair. He always does what is expected of him and then he does things that are unexpected. He's kind and generous. Extremely generous. He's positive and optimistic. He's smart and level headed. He's likable and genuinely nice. He's faithful. He's strong. He's steadfast. He's an example.

And he's back. Starting today we'll get dinners together again. And complete family prayers. We'll get good night kisses. And someone else to change diapers...and pick up toys...and give baths...and do dishes...and get the girls in bed...but those things don't really matter.

Boy will it be nice though.

So for my children, to you, the ones I often write about, whether he's mentioned frequently or not on this blog, let it be known that I love your dad. He works hard for us. He loves us more than anything.

And to you, Joe, in the words spoken by Gwen this morning when you got home from your last night of being on call in Seattle, "Dad, you're the best dad in the whooole family." I couldn't agree more.