True Definition of a Man

I don't write much about my husband Jason. Looking back at my past blogs, I have mentioned his name quite a few times, but do not really write into depth about him. I thought about it, and decided to dedicate this post exclusively to him.

Jason knows that I have found comfort in this blog, but does not read because I told him that it would make me feel uncomfortable if he does. That's really the type of person he is; a kind-hearted soul that has respected me and my feelings since day one of our relationship. Despite the fact that he is a gentleman respectful of my emotions, he is and always will be one of the most masculine men that I'll ever know. Watching a good football game with a cold beer in his hand is one of his major pick-me-ups. Working out at the gym is an absolute must to get through each week. His single, most important need is to know that he's doing everything that he can to make sure Maui and I are happy.

Being the only male in the family has been something of a blessing/adjustment for him. Instead of rolling around in the dirt teaching tackle football to our child, he's brushing hair and finishing her off with perfectly even pigtails. Instead of destructively crushing matchbox cars with monster trucks, he's a guest at our daughter's tea party. What can I say?... He's a great father. But I know, his heart is hurting every time he sees another man bonding with his son. He displays a certain look on his face that clearly states: That's suppose to be me and my son.

Men and women grieve so differently from each other. Women cry whenever and wherever they feel the need to. Men, on the other hand, try their best to bottle up those tears because they do not want to show signs of weakness. I have only seen my husband cry a total of three times since we have met. The first time, was when he saw me in the hospital bed getting ready to deliver our stillborn son. The second time, was when he was speaking his eulogy at our son's funeral. And the third, was the day after we buried our son. Since then, I feel that Jason most likely has cried on a rare basis... but chooses to do it when no one else is around.

When a baby is lost in a tragic and unexpected way like ours was, people tend to give their utmost, heartfelt sympathy to the mother. She is, after all, the one who nurtures and bonds with a growing baby for several months. Not to mention, goes through the aches of labor, and the aches of a traumatic separation. Where does the father fall into place? Although many do give their deepest condolences, fathers in a way, go through several unknown (unappreciated) challenges.

After my labor to Joshua, I was pretty much dead inside and out for two straight weeks. The epidural administered to me was done poorly, which caused the needle to profuse excessive fluids to my spine. Thus, resulting in "Spinal Headaches" for the next two weeks. To alleviate my discomfort, I was under several forms of pain killers and ordered to have constant bed rest. In exception of my son's funeral and memorial services, and the usage of a bathroom, I laid in bed for about two straight weeks. Crying on my pillow in the darkness of our room for several days, Jason was the one who had to make the funeral arrangements, care for our confused sweet girl, and care for a train-wrecked wife. He cooked, cleaned, and with a warm smile for our daughter.. managed to play despite the hardness of it all. During the nights, he would hold me tight in bed as I cried myself to sleep.

Looking back, I never realized the many things he did for us to get through the painful ordeal of losing our son. At the time, I was simply too broken to take the time from my endless grieving to say, "I love you, Jason. Thank you for everything that you are and everything that you do." A couple months after that depressing period of our lives, I did let him know how much I appreciated the things he had done for us in those weeks. I remember saying, "You took one for the team." He looked me in the eyes and told me the same.