I remember the first time I ever saw my husband with a baby. I found myself in a daydream in that moment, as love struck young women do, of what it would be like to raise a family with this kind, servant-hearted, steady man.

The daydream crumbled shortly after we came home from the hospital with our newborn son four years later.

Those first few weeks were really difficult. Caring for our child came much more naturally to me. Gradually, I started to just do things myself instead of asking for help because it was easier that way, but it didn't stop resentment from growing in my heart. I had looked forward to all the ways that parenthood would make us closer and more in love, but those first few months were nothing like I had imagined.

It was so much lonelier.

I wish I could sit down for coffee with that grieving, disillusioned mama and offer her the encouragement in this article, but instead, I pray that if you are struggling the way that I was in that first year, that this article would meet you in that place and offer hope.

Your Father sees, hears, and knows.

Your Father has given you all that you need.

Your Father is sovereign over this season.

Your Father is able to change hearts.

So this Father’s Day, if you have experienced something similar, celebrate your husband for what he is: the father of your children.

Reach deeply for the things he is doing well. Encourage him with the ways that you see God working in him and through him.Tell him that you know what a great responsibility it is and how much of a challenge it is and how you are committed to supporting him and praying for him.

Most of all, feel the blessing of your heavenly Father loving you not according to what you have done, but because of who you are in Christ, and extend that same patience, grace, and favor to your spouse.

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.” “But even the hairs of your head are all numbered,” Jesus assures us. “Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” The argument here is not: people matter, therefore sparrows are insignificant. Rather: sparrows are significant, so how much more valuable are those created in God’s image?

God’s voice—not the voices in my head or those of my neighbor—is the final word on the matter: If he values the hairs of my head more than sparrows, how much more must he care for my child—his own image bearer?

And when that child falls to sleep, hidden in my wife’s womb, will the Father in heaven not notice the father on earth? God cares for these little ones. God cares about mothers. God cares about fathers. Both moms and dads have every right to mourn.