I don't remember very much about the first month of my son's life, which makes me sad. I was an emotional and physical wreck. I was physically recovering from my unexpected c-section, I was having miserable gastrointestinal problems as a result of my surgery, I was learning to breastfeed, which proved to be unsuccessful thanks to my ever-faltering milk supply. My nipples were sore, my incision hurt, my pride hurt, my expectations had collapsed. Ouchie. The worst was my lack of any kind of workable sanity. I had terrible post-partum depression, the worst of which was in the first six weeks of my son's life, although the depression lasted six months (and still sometimes it comes to haunt me...stupid hormones). I didn't sleep for something like 99 hours straight after he was born, with little dozes here and there, because of my anxiety. I felt like a failure because my milk supply was so low and my son was starving and crying all the time. I was angry because my birth experience was flailing and painful and not beautiful and not natural and definitely not the happiest day of my life.
But, I had a savior through it all.
The thing I DO remember about that first month is my husband took over quickly and flawlessly. He did everything I was unable to do because of my physical limitations and almost non-existent sanity. He learned how to change diapers, change onesies, feed, swaddle, bathe, have constant patience with, and love our son much sooner that I was able. He could swaddle with the best of 'em and he is the one who taught ME, THE MOTHER, how to wrap up our little burrito. He was a champ.
He took our son to his first two doctor's appointments by himself. He went to the store and bought nipple pads, nipple soothing cream, nipple guards, nipple medicated cream, and everything else nipple-related for me.
He made me lunch and heated up dinner. He rocked our son. He gave our son his first baths.
He helped me through my serious breakdowns. He suffered through my torrential tirades and night sweats. He told me I looked nice in the weeks after the birth when my clothes didn't fit and I know I still looked fat and five months pregnant.
He covered for me when I was sick. He went to the pharmacy and picked up embarrassing meds for my butt-tastic side effects of pregnancy (you mommies out there know what I'm talking about...).
When our son cried and I couldn't take it anymore or at all, he immediately stepped in. If our son had breakdowns in public, he was the one to calm him down. He knew our son's personality before I did.
He has gone to every single one of our son's doctor's appointments. He's never missed one. He went to all my prenatal appointments.
He was the first one to get peed on when changing a diaper and he just laughed and laughed.
He took our son to Baby Bookworm at the library on Thursday by himself. One of the only dads there.
I love that he can make our son laugh harder than anyone...and he lives to do it.
I love that he goes the extra mile everyday to make sure our son feels safe and secure, that he is cozy and warm, comfortable and happy. I love that when he goes to the store alone, he usually comes home with new clothes for Peanut because he just can't stay out of the baby aisles. When he feeds our son, my husband opens his own mouth with every spoonful, as if he is sharing the eating experience with Peanut or showing our son how to open wide. I love how my husband has to touch our son every night when we go in his room (2 or 3 times a night) to watch him sleeping (all parents do this, right?)...he has to stroke his head, rub his back, touch the bottoms of his feet to see if they are cold, cover him up and tuck him in.
My husband is an amazing father! He is what I believe a father should be: safe, strong, protective, kind, gentle, funny, silly, resourceful, and full of unconditional love. I hope my son someday realizes how lucky he is to have my husband for a daddy. I know how lucky I am to have him as a partner in parenthood. Happy Father's Day, Babe! You have definitely earned this one!
Go BD, Go BD, Go!