Summary: I’ve noticed a group of principals trending on Twitter lately using the hashtag <a href="https://twitter.com/dadsasprincipal" target="_blank">#dadsasprincipals</a>. <br> And my friend Daniel Bauer recently interviewed a group of these dedicated dads at last month’s National Principal Conference. <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/bonus-introducing-dads-as-principals/id1036167679?i=1000390121924&mt=2&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=postplanner&utm_source=twitter.com" target="_blank">You can hear their talk here</a>.<br> These dads have picked up on the <a href="https://twitter.com/momsasprincipal" target="_blank">#momsasprincipals</a> movement they saw happening among their female colleagues, and they wanted to encourage one another as dads to stay as invested in their own children as they were to the ones in their schools.<br> I’ve been thinking a lot about fatherhood this week because my oldest daughter just went to college. Eighteen years ago, I was standing by her hospital crib when she been delivered prematurely. She was six and half weeks early and weighed a healthy 5lbs, 11 ounces. But she struggled to breathe, so nurses asked me to push her cart and follow them to the NICU. Here they moved her into a crib with a ventilator and connected her to wires and leads.<br> For the next two weeks, my wife and I spent our days at the NICU or the “NIC-unit” as the nurses called it. At first, we could only stroke her and hold her little hands. Then she was able to try nursing. Eventually, they gave Missy a room where she could sleep in the same room with Emily at night. It was Thanksgiving Day when we brought her home. My wife’s family had spent so much time out-of-state visiting her in the hospital and helping us prepare for her arrival, they had all returned to their homes to give us space. We forgot that it was Thanksgiving so I ran to the store and we had a simple dinner and just basked in the joy of having our first baby safely home.<br> During the two weeks of her hospitalization, the hardest part was sleeping at night without her there. It’s odd how I could live my whole life without knowing I would someday have an Emily to love, but the moment she was born, I could no longer imagine a world without her. We had bought a CD of Michael Card’s Sleep Sound in Jesus. So, we’d play it at night as we held one another and prayed for her.<br> This week our 18-year old went to college. It was a delight to see her filling the house with shopping bags and watching her organize books and clothes. The night before she left we gathered all four kids in the living room. I brought out a bottle of sparkling grape juice, and we all made toasts to Emily, and then we prayed for her. The next day, her mother was the hero of the day when we moved her in, and she helped her unpack and settle in. We are so proud of her for the full-academic scholarship that allows her in the school’s honors program. But the last few days have been harder than I imagined they would be.<br> It’s a different feeling than I’ve ever had before. I know she will come home again for breaks or long weekends. I know we’ll have her home for the holidays and talk her into vacation getaways. But there is more than an empty bed in our home. I’ve tried to compare it to finishing one of the best books you’ve ever read. You turn the page, and it’s over, but you still want more. And you find yourself grieving that you don’t get to be there for stories of the characters that must keep going on.<br> And I’m having all these memories of Emily. The nights we snuggled in the blue chair to read books. Playing with her in her first kiddie pool. Watching her play sports. Peeking into her classrooms at school. Driving to games together with her face paint and lucky blanket. Having her there after a school event to lay her head on my shoulder or tell me she was meeting her friends at IHOP. Hearing her sing in church.<br>
