The Eternal Guest Room

I think Father’s Day is this Sunday – although I’m not entirely sure about that.

Father’s Day doesn’t have anything near the effect that Mother’s Day has on me. Probably because there’s not as much hype, it doesn’t affect me quite as personally, and of course I’ll never be a father, so it’s not nearly as painful.

But I’ve realized something over the last year or so: there’s a “hierarchy” of what I find painful to be around. The first is definitely pregnant women, hands down. That just about kills me. The second is probably newborns, but the third isn’t moms with babies; it’s dads with babies.

For some reason it hurts much more to see a father with his baby or young child. I can’t really put my finger on exactly why. Possibly because I have a hard time picturing myself as a mom, but I can totally picture Darek being a dad. Plus, there’s something just terribly sweet about seeing a father interacting with his young child.

This is one of those things that I have a hard time putting into words, because I’m not entirely sure why I feel this way. I just know that when I see a dad playing with his kid in their yard, or see a new dad holding his new baby, I get tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. It makes my heart hurt.

Avoidance is my middle name these days, but I live in the world.

Stupid world.