I got up because I found myself writing this post in my head while lying in bed. I’m supposed to be napping–you know, that whole “sleep while the baby sleeps” theory. But it’s 11:30 and the sun is streaming in through all the windows and 29 years of the whole “awake during the day, sleep during the night” programming is hard to ignore after just a week.
While we’ve all heard plenty of stories of dead beat birthing dads, my husband worked hard to prove himself NOT one of them. This post is for him–his credit for all of his work in our 9 1/2 month journey.
Thank you for holding my hair and rubbing my back every morning for 20 weeks as I violently vomited. Thanks for willingly cleaning out the barf bucket when I didn’t make it to the bathroom. Thanks for holding me while I bawled, and thanks for holding back your extreme excitement when it was obvious I didn’t feel the same way. Thanks for completely and sincerely agreeing with me that we’d never do this again because I was sure no kid was ever going to be worth this torture.
Thank you for reading and researching and learning with me. Thank you for attending 12 weeks of birthing classes. Thank you for your input and ideas in preparing for the birth. Thank you for supporting my desire to have an unmedicated experience. Thank you for committing to not only watch me in such pain, but to encourage me in it.
Thank you for staying with me for 33 hours. Thank you for staying awake and never once mentioning how tired you were even though I saw the exhaustion in your eyes. Thank you for driving slowly and carefully to the hospital and for missing every pot hole and bump in the road. Thank you for holding my hand, for stroking my hair, for rubbing my back, for holding me up, for walking me back and forth across the room. Thank you for supporting my feet with yours whenever I sat on those stupid “comfort height” hospital toilets.
Thank you for getting another towel every time I’d drop the dry one in the tub. Thank you for grabbing the warm blankets when I was shivering, and thank you for pulling them off 2 minutes later when I was crying because I was too hot. Thank you for helping me breath and coaching my moaning, just to make sure I was doing it right. Thank you for going as hoarse as me.
Thank you for getting the cold wash cloth for my head. Thank you for getting more water, more water, more water. Thank you for hardly stopping to eat or drink yourself.
And at that critical moment where I had absolutely no more faith in myself, where I had reached what I was sure was the end of my ability, thank you for having faith for me. Thank you for the perfect words and the perfect plan. Thank you for “just 20 more minutes” that you were sure I could do. Thank you for coaching two more hours of pushing.
Thank you for whispering your love and support over and over. Thank you for announcing “It’s a Girl!” with tears in your eyes and so much love in your face. And thank you for letting me hold her first.
This birth was just as much work for you as it was for me. You really are The Warrior, and I’m so humbled and grateful for all you invested in this birth without even doubting that it was your duty and your joy to fulfill.
I love you forever.
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