Remembrance, Honor and HOPE

At the beginning of December we made a quick trip home to partake in the candlelight ceremony at the Angel of Hope to commemorate and remember our sweet daughter, Harper. Every year on December 6th they honor the names of children gone way too soon. It was beautiful. It was cold. It was sad. It was memorable. I can't fully explain how one 30 (ish) minute ceremony had so much impact on my soul and on my heart. There were many tears, there were smiles, there was heartache and there was of course my favorite of all; there was joy.

The president of the non profit organization began the ceremony, speaking eloquently and beautifully; he reminded us all of the meaning of the Angel of Hope: remembrance, honor and of course, Hope. He began to tell a story, a story that each and every person standing there that night, had somehow been affected by. As his voice began to crack we all knew what was coming, he too had lost a child. In 2003 his son was born still. The tears began flowing. I sometimes forget (or block out) the notion that these feelings will never go away. That 13 years from now, I will still be the mother of an angel. I will still ache for her every day until that day 13 years from now. And I will continue to ache for her for countless years after. Love. We can blame love for that ache and I am ok with that.

As the ceremony continued and the names of the children began to be read I looked around at all of the faces. There were hundreds of people there. Some were new to this game (like me) and some had been coming for a very long time. But what I noticed the most was how we all looked the same. We all had joined a "club" that no one wanted to ever be a part of. It's strange but true when I say: when you lose a child and you meet another mother of an angel, you may be a complete stranger and yet at the same time there is such a strong connection. It's a bond that I feel is given to us to help us get through the horrible times; to help lift us up when we need it the most. It's a part of our broken hearts, mending and grieving together. So as I looked around, I could feel that my heart yearned for each mother I saw standing there.

The music began and the tears began to flow, this was my new reality. At times I can hold the tears back, I can numb the pain inside, but this day, there would be no numbing. It was an official reminder: my daughter died. It was a beautiful song, reminding us all of the Angels around us. The names began to be read, for the first time I was thankful that my last name was at the very end of the alphabet. I needed some time before I heard her name. As the letters drew closer to W, I mustered up the strength and I readied myself. "Harper Lynn Wear", it was our turn to go stand in line and to place our flower at the foot of the angel. I was holding back the tears the entire time in line. As Levi, Adam and I finished placing our single white rose for our favorite angel I was stopped by someone I knew. Someone I hold dear in my heart and the tears began to flow and I couldn't stop them this time. We  both shared a pain now, one neither one of us ever agreed to bear, but yet here we were, still standing and still breathing. It was a much needed moment for this momma, to be able to let down my guard and to be able to breathe once again.

As the ceremony came to a close, I held Levi tight and I said a prayer. I know Harper is no longer suffering, that instead I am the one suffering for her. But every day that goes by, I can't help but wish she was here, I can't help but wish that I could see her smile, that I could hold her close that I could hear her giggle. So instead, I hug her brother and I blow a kiss towards her ashes each and every night. I know that she is still with us, I know that she is watching over us all and some days I remember that and think "how did I get so lucky?". She is mine and I am hers and for that I will be eternally grateful.

So for today, I will pick up another broken piece that had been shattered when I began this unimaginable journey and place it delicately where it belongs remembering my beautiful daughter and the joy she has brought to this family from afar.

Where there is Joy, there is also Sadness

Joyous Moments. They feel so different these days. They are happy, they are momentous, they are exciting. Yet there is more. There is a deep lingering of sadness that underlies the joy. Something I've never experienced before. How can someone be so incredibly happy and yet so incredibly sad at the same time? I've dreamed of some of these joyous moments my whole life (some of you know exactly  that one moment I'm talking about: Yes, the Cubs entering the World Series and WINNING of course) and yet here I am, jumping from the insides and wanting to hide at the same time. I've asked myself  "Is this feeling of sadness not really sadness, but rather guilt from feeling happy?" I'm not sure to be honest. These emotions are so raw and so new at times that it can be tiresome to attempt to sort them out. I'm pretty sure my other momma's of loss out there could raise their hands and say "Amen" to that statement.

I remember in those first few days after losing Harper the sense of feeling numb was about all that I could take. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to feel. I didn't know what to say. And I knew part of me was afraid to feel. I remember thinking at one point "I can't believe that I will feel this sad for the rest of my life." I knew at that moment how much of a life changer losing Harper would be. My worst nightmare had officially become my reality. It would be an unwelcomed change at first and it would be a change that I knew would never go away. It was what I labeled as my "new norm". There would now be the "before Harper" era and the "after Harper" era and I was going to have to find a way to cope with that and to understand that. It has not always been easy. In fact, it's been really really hard.

I find myself these days, when re-living my past, labeling each memory and each picture as "Before Harper" or "After Harper". My sense of myself and my family has changed drastically. I have grown. Some for the better, and some for the "yet to be determined" column. Mostly because I'm still exploring, I'm still figuring this new life out and I'm still mourning. Heavy mourning. And that's ok. I once thought I was immune to great sorrow. That surely there was no way it would ever find it's way into my life. But I was wrong. That was the "Before" version of myself and sadly that part of me doesn't exist anymore.  Sure, I still believe that life is filled with happiness, love, and joy... I haven't lost that, but I know now that life is full of so much more. Life is full of deeper meanings, of understanding this world we live in  and living it in the absolute fullest. It's about taking our experiences, growing from them and honoring them. It's about living with no regrets. It's about discovering that life is not black and white. Life is full of gray. So much gray. And if we allow ourselves to open up, to flourish and to nurture this life that we live, it will be the gray that gets us to the other side, that humanizes us. It will be the part that defines who we are.

So don't be afraid of the gray. I was. I was absolutely terrified of the gray. It's full of the unknown. It's full of the unimaginable. It's unorganized. It's rough. And yet, it has been so rewarding. So incredibly healing and I know I have grown immensely from my time there. 

Explore. Know that each day is a new day. A day in which we have been given life. A life that is full of so much deeper meaning and understanding. A life that is full of unimaginable moments. A life that is full of love, joy, laughter and cherished moments. A life that experiences sadness, darkness, despair and confusion. A life that challenges us. A life that strengthens us. A life that God has given us. Walk it. Live It. Love It and Learn from It.

That means today I will continue to walk this long and unfamiliar path on this unimaginable journey, I will walk through the gray and smile through the sadness and I will  pick up a broken piece and I will place it gently where it belongs knowing that one day I will see my little one again up above. *I Love you Harper Lynn

Can I really be "Thankful" at a time like this?!

I've taken a little break from writing lately since my emotions and life have been getting the best of me. It's been crazy. It's been messy. My motto the past few weeks has been "to stay as busy as possible" because when one is busy, one doesn't haven't to stop and reflect as often. And let's just say reflection has not always been my friend these days. As I was going through my fall decorations to start prepping for Pumpkin Spice and Football season I was taken aback by a sign I forgot that I hang every year above the fireplace. A sign that has always been a simple reminder to me, one that I've tried to live my life by fully. A sign that simply reads...

THANKFUL.

It's a sign that I hate to say, I have not had the courage or the strength to hang yet this year. It's a word I've been reflecting an awful lot on...  THANKFUL.

 Am I thankful? How can I be thankful after everything that has happened? I am blessed and I am grateful, but am I really thankful? Am I really suppose to read this word everyday? Why does this word taking my breath away every single time I see it?

"I just can't",  that's what I've been telling myself. I'm not ready, it's too much. I need time.

Oh that ache, that deep ache that tugs at my heart over and over has been working overtime lately. It's making me feel feels that I know I am not ready for at this moment. I'm grieving, I'm trying to move forward and I'm trying to see the good in each deed and each person that comes my way. I'm trying so hard some days, and now I am somehow suppose to be THANKFUL?

I looked at Adam the other night and said "I think I need to buy a new fall sign for the fireplace" and he stared at me puzzled (partially because I'm pretty sure he has no idea what our "fall" sign even says until it's put up, but that's totally ok) He quickly uttered the word "Why?". I told him exactly how I felt, "It's because it reads "Thankful" and I just really don't think I feel Thankful this year."

His response to this is exactly why I love this man. He has always been my clarity when my emotions become too involved. He has always been my strength when I feel weak in my knees and in this moment his words found a way to pick me back up. He looked me straight in the eyes and said.. "Kate, that seems a little harsh. Aren't you thankful for Levi? Aren't you thankful that you are alive? Because I am"

{A part of my story I haven't shared yet is how the day Harper was born, my body began to fail. My placenta began to pull away and my body went into shock, I was bleeding out and my blood pressure was dropping fast. As soon as Harper was whisked away to NICU and as soon as my doctor could get as much of my bleeding stopped my epidural was pulled and I was escorted by my doctor and the rest of the surgical team to ICU where I would spend the next 30 hours. I was immediately started on a blood transfusion and later followed with a platelet transfusion. I didn't realize how serious the situation had turned until my follow up appointment when my doctor told me "You were the last person I thought I'd ever have to worry about losing on the table." My eyes were opened. That day, I lived for a reason. That day I remained here on earth, a wife to the most perfect husband and a mother to two beautiful children on earth.}

When I look back at this moment, I remember. I remember that I was left here for a purpose and I needed Adam to remind me of that, to remind me that I can be THANKFUL this year and that it's a word I shouldn't be ashamed to use. I will never be thankful for what happened to my daughter, I know this. But I can be thankful for so much more.

I am thankful for life.

I am thankful for joy.

I am thankful for Levi's laughs, his hugs and the love he brings.

I am thankful for my amazing husband.

I am thankful for friends and family who have picked me up at the lowest of times.

I am thankful for loving a tiny soul so much that I have a reason to be sad.

I am thankful. I can be thankful.

I've learned and accepted now that "Thankful" no longer has to be a scary word for me and I've discovered how it means something so much more to me. I've stopped looking at the superficial some days and found the deeper meaning to life. I have to open my eyes to my surroundings, I have to live in the moment and I have to treasure each and every day. Harper opened my eyes to this world and for that I am Thankful. She helps me flourish as a mom and a wife each day of my life and for that I am so thankful.

So today I am going to be thankful, thankful that I am able to pick up another broken piece on this unimaginable journey and place it delicately where it belongs enjoying each and every moment with my incredible family and knowing that this journey will bring me one day closer to seeing my little Angel.

Harsh Realities

Right when you think you are finally getting a grip on this new life you are living, right when you feel like you have control of your emotions, right when you think the deep sadness and darkness that once surrounded you has began to lessen you feel it again. That ache that is so deep within you it's impossible to escape. It's as if the outside world knows exactly when to throw at you that harsh reminder that your child has left you. As much as you try to escape the feelings, as much as you try to escape the pain and as much as you try to escape the dark memories; you can't.

The other day at work I was walking down the hallway when I saw an adorable little boy who I imagined was pretty close to my son Levi's age. Since I work in a skilled nursing facility a small child under the age of 10 is a rare sighting. In front of him I saw his mom pushing a stroller and walking behind him was what I could only assume his grandmother carrying a beautiful chunky little baby in her arms. As I walked behind these adorable kids I saw what could have been my future flashing before my eyes. But instead of dwelling in the sadness I decided to ask the mom how old her little boy was

"He is so cute, how old is your oldest?"

"2 years and 2 months"

"How perfect, I have an almost 2 year old at home and I thought your little man looked to be about his age."

"Oh man, you must have a pretty big guy if he's about the same size as this one and not quite two."

I responded with, "Yea he's not the smallest of the bunch."

The grandmother then turns to me and says: "But I bet you don't have one this size at home" and held up the cutest little blue eyed, pudgy baby I had seen in quite awhile.

My eyes, just like they have experienced much too often these days started to well up, so I quickly answered "You're right, I don't have one that size."

The daughter turned around at that point and said "See Mom, she was one of the smart ones."

I can't even write these words without tears streaming down my cheeks. The pain I feel when I re-live this conversation is just so real. So incredibly real, that sometimes I wish parents who have lost their children could wear a sign that says "I'm a mother/father to an angel." I wish that mother had known that I would have given anything to have what she had. To hold two perfectly healthy, happy babies in my arms, to have them close in age and to watch them grow up together. I struggle every moment of every day with the fact that I will never get to see Harper grow up, that she wasn't healthy while she lived her earthly life and that I had to witness her take her last breath in my arms.

One thing I've learned for sure in the realm of grieving is that reality is so harsh sometimes. You can't escape it and you can't avoid it, it doesn't stop for you and it doesn't always cater to your needs. When you've lost your child you have to learn to survive within reality. You have to re-learn how to breathe, how to walk, how to function and how to strive without a piece of yourself. It's unfair, it's unthinkable and it's tragic but it's also necessary. Mothers of infant loss most definitely learn very quickly what true strength feels like; not because they want too necessarily but because they have too. My soul has never ached so much in my whole life and yet here I am: still standing, still breathing and still moving forward. Some days I'm not really sure how it is possible. Reality wants to knock me down at times, wants to remind me of the darkness and the sadness that floods my being but strength is knowing that there is light and strength is believing that one day that light will shine through again and that one day we will be reunited for eternity and all will feel complete. So when reality comes knocking at my door, I've learned to take a deep breath, roll with the punches and picture my beautiful baby girl shining down on me from up above.

So with that image on my mind, today I pick up another broken piece on this unimaginable journey and place this particular one where it belongs with the hope that one day this journey will look complete once again and I can hold my beautiful daughter in my arms and tell her how much her mommy misses her and loves her.  *Harper Lynn*

I Hope You Dance

This past weekend we got to witness the most beautiful wedding ceremony, one where you could just feel the love that filled the room from each and every corner. It was such a special day for such an amazing couple and when it came time for the Father/Daughter dance I could feel that little tug in my heart that I've been feeling so often these days. That little tug that sometimes pulls a little harder each time and causes my heart to ache a little bit longer.  I could feel the emotions creeping up: the sadness that tries to take my breath away and the darkness that attempts to overshadow the light. But then the song started to play. It was the most beautiful melody, a melody that enabled the light to shine through and show the love that had once encompassed the room. As the lyrics began to play I found the words to be so incredibly soothing;  they were finding a way to encourage joyfulness through the immense sorrow.

" I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted..."

"Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
and when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
                I HOPE YOU DANCE"

These words started to fill my soul and the more I listened to them and watched the loveliness of a father and daughter dance before my eyes the more I began to allow myself to see the beauty again. I could understand how easy it would be for me to sit this one out though, to cower in the corner or quickly walk away in order to spare my heart from feeling that little tug again; but instead, I was learning to accept these feelings and I was finally learning to dance through them. At times it feels like the most awkward dance, where my arms may not be in rhythm with my feet or my movements might feel totally out of sync with the music but yet at the same time I am so proud of myself. As the song tells us, I know that I have not picked the path of least resistance and I have promised myself to not sit this one out.

I know that I will always wish for there to be an extra person with me while I'm dancing. I will always wish that with each family picture we take these days you could see four visible people. That when I speak of my daughter you could picture a beautiful, happy, and smiling almost four month old. I will always wish that I didn't have to leave that hospital with completely empty arm, with a heart that was shattered into too many pieces to count and a soul that felt like it could collapse at any moment. I will always wish I could still live that naïve life where these types of feelings felt impossible to imagine and even more so out of reach. But I can tell you there is ONE thing I will most definitely NEVER wish for. You will at no time find me uttering the words "I wish this never happened." I am forever grateful for those three whole days that I got to soak up what life on earth with two amazing children felt like. I always joked when I was pregnant with Harper that having a girl felt like such a "game changer" and how true those words ring in my heart right now. Harper was a definite  game changer in our family, but within all the sadness of her leaving she has brought us so much joy. Harper has taught us to appreciate the small things, to cherish each breath we take and the ease that comes with it and to give thanks for the beauty in which we live. To say it simply, she has taught me to keep dancing and to love without limits.

Today, my husband Adam and I celebrate five years of marriage and today is undoubtedly one of those days where I remember and acknowledge how truly blessed I am. Sometimes it's been hard for me to see the "blessings" through the gloominess, but with this celebration comes a joy that words will never be able to describe. This is not how I ever imagined our marriage to look like when I said "I Do" five years ago. It's been messy, so much more than I could have ever believed and yet through these messy times we have found a love so much deeper and so much fuller than my imagine could have allowed. Adam and I have been through more than someone who just turned 30 should have ever experienced, we have seen more sadness than a happily married couple of five years should ever have felt and yet we have made it through and we have found the light in what will hopefully be one of our darkest moments. I'm not saying that because we survived this tribulation that the road before us will be easy but I am just so grateful that every morning I wake up next to this man and I thank God that I get one more day on this earth to spend with him. There is nothing I would change about the "Kate and Adam Story" because it is our story that has helped me develop into the woman I am today, the mother I am today and the wife that I am today. I know Adam is always and will always be by my side and I know he will always be the one saying over and over to me ... "I hope you dance."

So within the celebrating that today will bring, I will pick up another broken piece that has been scattered along this unimaginable journey and I will place it where it belongs knowing that I have been truly blessed with the most amazing man by my side, the most beautiful baby girl in heaven and the most inspiring son here on earth.

* HAPPY FIVE YEARS OF MARRIAGE, ADAM: Let's dance all day long!! I LOVE YOU *

Just Keep Swimming

The other day Levi had his first "official" swim lesson and boy was he ecstatic. As soon as we entered the pool area I couldn't get him to calm down, he incessantly pointed to the pool, screaming "Wa Wa" at the top of his lungs while squirming ferosciously to wiggle out of my arms. Levi loves to take on new adventures, sometimes keeping Mommy and Daddy on their toes a little too often but we welcome it nonetheless. He's just so amazing, usually a very happy kid with a strong will and yet so incredibly loving. As I watched his Dad take him into the pool for his "waterbabies" class I watched with a full heart at how much this little child had grown up and how much life he gives to us. I watched as Levi learned to turn his head to the side, as he put on little flippers and learned to kick in the water and how he unwillingly floated on his back for a few seconds (not his favorite thing!) While I watched Levi learn all of the new and exciting movements and experience sensations he had never felt before all I could think of while watching is how much learning to swim reminds me of life after loss. A bunch of un-natural movements and feelings that when learned and accepted turn into something beautiful, something that allows us to move forward and onward through rough patches, allowing us to breathe if we know how and sometimes throwing a bit of unexpectedness our way.

Learning to swim is not an easy task. I know the difficulties it has since I taught it for such a long time (learning from the best since my Dad taught swim lessons for over 30 years). It's a lot of unusual and odd motions, it's learning to breathe and stay afloat , it's learning to move forward when your body just wants to sink and it's putting all these acts into one glorious movement to get you where you want to be. It usually starts with a kick, the most common of all the kicks is the "flutter" kick, where you quickly move your feel up and down.  It's what helps propel you through the water, it's the piece that brings power to this new experience . But that's not all that it takes to keep you afloat, it's just the first piece of the puzzle to helping you learn. Then comes the arms, large screwy movements that are in an entirely different rhythm to your legs. A movement that when performed perfectly helps push the water down and behind you in order to move you faster and faster; allowing you to achieve your goal much more efficiently and smoothly. When your fingers don't grasp the water in just the perfect way though or your elbow doesn't bend at just the right angle when coming out of the water you may lose momentum. One small abnormal movement may hinder your progress forward and require you to work a little harder to catch up. But alas, even with all of this you still have one more key component to be taught... You need to learn to breathe.

Continuing on with life after losing Harper has to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to, it's a daily struggle to find the beauty within this experience. It's learning to ride the waves and power through them when they decide to hit; it's knowing ahead of time that some waves are bigger than others and you must find a way to breathe, even though it may be difficult at times. It's learning that sometimes you may not have the strength to power through, so instead you flip to your back and float through them, watching them carry you as you go. But the hardest part of losing Harper, and the hardest part of swimming, is learning and remembering to breathe in this new environment. It's Hard. As soon as I feel like I've discovered how to power through, a new wave hits and I find myself gasping for air; looking for the fastest way out of this wave of emotions. And sometimes I'm able to power through, kicking with all of my might and sometimes I've learned to let the emotions take me on this journey and I willingly flip to my back and ride them out.  Sometimes that's the safest route to get to where you are going, because the more you fight the more resistance you might encounter. Similar to being sucked into a rip tide, where it is safest to swim parallel to shore until the tide brings you closer to land.

Harper has taught me so much about myself, she's helped me understand that suffering and pain come from a beautiful place, a place where love is so abundant and so flourishing that it can become endless. She's also taught me that pain is pain, and sometimes that pain will never go away but that doesn't have to stop us from leading a fulfilling life. You can't let pain be the wave that pulls you under and never lets you breathe again. At times you will find yourself holding your breath as the water pours over you, but with each breath will come a new breath and new understanding of what you just encountered. You come out stronger and better because next time you will understand the fight a little bit more. Never Give Up.

So today I will kick a little harder and breathe a little deeper as I put together another broken piece on this unimaginable journey. Today I will bask in the glory of finding a love so deep and so pure; a love that will one day bring me back to my daughter again.

Daddy's Girl

Lately, I haven't been feeling very strong but in true "Kate" fashion, I've been trying harder than ever to not let it change me, to not let it affect me and to not let it control my life. But there is one person in my life who sees it everyday, one person who knows that I struggle often and knows that sometimes the darkness tries to prevail. The same person who I also know will never let the darkness overcome, who will pull me up every single time that my knees make me crumble to the ground and who will willingly stand next to me each time and willingly do it all again. That person, as most of you might know, is my husband, Adam and it only feels fitting to tell you all about the amazing man that he is while celebrating Father's Day.

There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that tells me I would not be where I am today, living the way I am today and finding the beauty in today if it were not for the rock that stands next to me each and every day. There was no way Adam was going to let this devastating situation change who we were in a negative way, there was no way he was going to let the sadness conquer us and there was no way he was going to remember his daughter in any other way but as a fighter. He was there to comfort when I needed to be comforted, he was there to hold my hand when it needed to be held and he was also there to say "Kate, get moving" when all I wanted to do was hide. But not only is he an amazing husband but also an amazing father.

Before we had Levi I had never watched Adam hold a baby. I would always wonder what kind of parent each of us would be and how we would cope with all of the new responsibilities. We had met so early in life that sometimes I still think of us as our 16 year old selves and it's hard to imagine us any other way. When Levi was born though, it was natural, it was instinct and it was pure love at first site. Adam was on top of things, I honestly don't think I changed a single diaper in the hospital. He was ready to take on this new adventure and he was seriously the best at it with such little practice. I remember I would watch in awe as this strong and independent man would cradle our newborn so delicately and so effortlessly.  How could I seriously love this man anymore? and yet there I was, finding myself falling more and more in love with him.

This past year, Adam's parenting skills were most definintely put to the test when I was hospitalized for four weeks while Harper and Mommy were under strict orders to take it easy. I was so fearful of how this would all play out because Adam was in the middle of busy season and Levi was beginning his "Mr. Independent" stage. Adam never flinched though, he never called me in a panic, he never complained and he made being a parent look so incredibly easy. He made sure we could face time each morning (when Mommy was awake to do it) and they would visit every single night in the hospital. Levi continued to flourish in school and everyday life and I watched that little 18 month old grow up so much with the guidance of his Dad along the way.

I have to admit though,  there were times I was terrified that I was having a girl because after having a boy I felt that a girl was just a complete game changer. I'm not sure why I would get these sudden urges of fear but it would usually distance itself within a few moments. There was one thing I did always look forward too when we found out we were having a girl; that was watching Adam become a dad to a baby girl. I couldn't wait to watch their relationship blossom and used to always joke with Adam that I bet Levi would turn into a "Momma's Boy" and Harper would turn into a "Daddy's Girl".  Adam would unknowingly light up a bit when we would talk about this because I knew he was ready. When I would ask are you excited it's a girl he would always answer without hesitation "Yes". I can't even begin to describe how amazing this man is because I don't think my limited vocabulary will do him justice. I seriously am so blessed, have I told you that enough times yet?

To this day my favorite memory will always be when I put little Miss Harper into her Dad's arms. Adam never took his eyes off of her sweet face and each time he kissed her a piece of my shattered heart was put back together. This was what I was going to miss most, the bonding and the completeness that our family was never going to feel again. We are always going to feel a little empty with Miss Harper so far away but we know that she is here with us each and every day holding our hands and helping us in every way she knows possible.

So this Father's Day I want to acknowledge all of the Dad's out there who are missing a piece of themselves today. I want us all to remember that behind every "strong" bereaved mother there is most likely a Dad helping to the put the pieces together as well. I know Dad's don't tend to show the outward signs of healing, but their insides were just as shattered as ours and require immense mending to heal the brokenness. So this Father's Day I'm going to pick up another broken piece on this unimaginable journey and together Adam and I will rebuild this path so that one day we are able to see our sweet daughter once again and Adam can hold his "daddy's girl" faithfully in his arms.

Happy Father's Day Adam!! * Love Levi and Sweet Harper *