"A letter to my husband, the father of my child": A mum's appreciation for her husband

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"I’m sorry for not communicating better. I’m sorry for taking you for granted, and I’m sorry for constantly being angry."

Okay, let's be honest for a minute: dads don't always get the credit they deserve. In fact, aside from Father's Day, how often do we really appreciate what dads and husbands do for their family?

Maybe you're one of the few families that regularly celebrate and show appreciation to the "man of the house", but it goes without saying that society doesn't always shine the light of gratitude on dads.

Well, Jessica Oakes--a proud mother, loving wife, and popular blogger--used her website to show her appreciation to the man in her life whom she believes seldom receives it.

Actually, she didn't just pay respects to her husband, she outright apologized for underestimating him, and taking him for granted!

"I’m sorry for not communicating better. I’m sorry for taking you for granted, and I’m sorry for constantly being angry," she writes in a post that she shared on her website.

A letter to my husband, the father of my child

Since being shared on Oakes' popular blog site, the heartwarming post has gone viral. As a matter of fact it's even been shared by major media outlets like The Huffington Post!

Obviously, Oakes' intention wasn't to gain attention, but to show how grateful she is to have a wonderful husband. However, the touching post has gained so much of a following, that it's worked to show dad's everywhere the thanks they deserve!

Moms/wives, take the time to read Oakes' loving, apologetic, and appreciative post and let it be the inspiration you need to show the same gratitude to the man in your life. He may not be perfect, but I'm willing to bet he's the best husband and best father he can possibly be!

Here's a look at Jessica Oake's viral open letter to her husband:

Dear husband,

Yesterday, I was pretty angry before we went to bed. Angry at you, angry at the world, frustrated, tired and, most of all, sad. I know they say don’t go to bed mad, but at the time I didn’t even care. I wanted to be mad at you, and I wanted to wallow in self pity. I was mad that you didn’t understand why I was mad. I was upset that you couldn’t just read my mind, and I had to clearly explain to you my feelings. And I was frustrated that I felt so alone in the entire thing. This happens a lot.

In fact, it’s happened almost every single day this week.

Why can’t you just understand how I’m feeling? Why can’t you just see that I am trying to work all day, take care of our baby, clean the house, pay the bills and everything else in between? I go grocery shopping. I try to at least figure something out for dinner, if not cook it. I cry a lot during the day, and I try to figure out how to balance it all while you sit back.

Read the rest of Oake's heartfelt open letter by clicking next to continue to page two!

Yesterday was hard ― like most days are, actually. Our cute child ― who don’t get me wrong, is the cutest baby ever ― was difficult. She didn’t sleep all night, then she wanted to party all day. She broke things. She cried, and she ripped the dogs fur out. I couldn’t keep up. After she dumped the dog food and poured her entire sippy cup of water on the ground, I lost it.

I cried. I cried so many tears, and I just sat there thinking, Why? This isn’t fair.

My patience was short yesterday, if not at all existent. I couldn’t handle the constant screaming every two minutes. Our house was a disaster, and we had so many projects that HAD to be done by the next day. I thought I was going to lose my mind. Then you got home from work, with a cool face on. You kissed us hello, picked up our beautiful baby, hugged her and set her down by our toys. You were so “cool,” not a care in the world, not a worry in the world ― just a happy face.

I was pissed. Actually, that’s an understatement. I was livid. I was a whole mess of emotions ― sad, angry, overwhelmed, frustrated, you name it.

A letter to my husband, the father of my child

Why in the world were you so cool? Don’t you know what I just went through all day? DO you care that I am over here working my butt off, watching my goals and dreams struggle, trying to care for a baby and balance our home life, being a wife and everything else in between? Don’t you see that?! But I didn’t say anything. I just let it boil inside, fester, you know… REALLY build up for the ultimate explosion later.

The night went on, we worked on our projects, we fed the baby and found dinner for ourselves, we spent family time together and then she went down for bed.

Bedtime for us rolled around. I laid in bed, looking at everything I had to do, looking at all the work I had personally been working on, getting frustrated it wasn’t better. I didn’t speak; I just laid there while you did your thing, and I did mine ― only I was getting pretty frustrated. I was really sad. It all started coming back.

You were laying there hopelessly next to me. You had no idea what was going on in my head. Then we started to talk, but I didn’t want to talk. I shrugged things off. You asked what was wrong, and I said, “Nothing.” I took a shower, climbed in bed and avoided all contact.

Then you said it, “Quit saying ‘nothing.’ What is wrong? Tell me what is wrong!”

Word vomit, just like “Mean Girls.” Word vomit happened, and I said every little thing on my mind in that moment.

You don’t help with our child.
You don’t clean the house.
You don’t tell me thank you.
You don’t care about me.
My work is failing.
I hate my body.
You only worry about yourself.

The list went on and on… and I went to bed.

 

Read the rest of Oake's heartfelt open letter by clicking next to continue to page three!

Then I woke up this morning, you got our sweet baby girl out of her crib, made her milk and brought her to our bed. Just like you do almost every other morning. You hopped in the shower, got ready for work and helped take the trash out, again, like you do almost every other morning. I made breakfast for myself and baby and we sat down to eat. You rushed to get things together for work and then came over, said you loved us and kissed us goodbye ― like you do every morning.

You do these things EVERY SINGLE MORNING. You do things like this everyday. You go to work just like I do, to help provide for us everyday. You do the yard work, you take out the trash, you make sure we are safe. Every day.

A letter to my husband, the father of my child

When I tell you I need help, you give me help. When I cry to you, you try to fix it. When I explain that I need things done around the house in a certain time, you do it. You’re so “chill” all the time because someone in this house needs to be, and it sure as heck isn’t me. You’re the glue that holds us together. You’re the happy that makes us laugh when I am so stressed and overwhelmed. You’re the peace and comfort that makes this family complete.

Why was I so angry? I’ll tell you: Because it’s 95 percent in my head. If I am throwing myself a pity party, everyone else around me is coming down, too. It’s not just me that is struggling; you’re doing things wrong, too. I expect you to read my mind when, in all reality, that is physically not even possible. Rather than asking you to clean up the kitchen, I just clean it up and get mad that you didn’t do it. If our baby is crying, I run to her rescue and then scold you for not getting up and grabbing her quick enough.

I don’t ask, I just do. And then I resent you for it.

SO I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for not communicating better. I’m sorry for taking you for granted, and I’m sorry for constantly being angry. It’s all about outlook. It’s all about how I’m going to tackle the day, whether or not I’m going to ask for help. It has nothing to do with you sitting there watching sports or being “chill” all the time. There are days that I just sit there on the couch, too, for an hour and watch the babe play. You don’t get angry at me for doing that, so I shouldn’t get angry at you for doing that.

It’s about explaining my feelings, explaining how I feel and expressing to you my worries, my stresses and my exhaustion, rather than bottling it up and holding it in only to get angry and lash out at you.

It’s about loving you. It’s about forgiving your imperfections, just like you forgive mine. It’s about focusing on the positives and asking for help. It’s about apologizing, saying I’m sorry for being wrong.

So here it is: I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for assuming the worst and taking you for granted.

Love,

Your wife

 

This post was originally shared by Positively Oakes and The Huffington Post

 

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