A Word About My Husband
For eight months now I have been sharing my journey through Pregoland with you. I have told you about my fears of getting pregnant. I have disclosed the super speedy conception success. I have shared the picture of a stick I peed on with you. You have seen my biggest nightmare of repeated hyperemesis gravidarum coming true and read about the changes my body and mind have gone through. Sometimes you laughed, sometimes you cringed and I imagine sometimes you wondered if I lost my mind.
But as much as it is I who has been growing the baby inside of me, there is another person who has been there all along dealing with this pregnancy - my husband. I think a simple fact of him knowing about this blog and still sticking around says it all. But I want to spell it out for the whole wide world today. He is amazing. You can now jump to Thesaurus and find all the synonyms for amazing and he is all that and more.
He is a rock, if rock can be sensitive and caring at the same time. He is supportive and encouraging but without the annoying cheerleading approach. When I am mad and crying and yelling I can't do this anymore, he takes me in his arms and thanks me for growing our baby for us.
He works longer days than you can or want to imagine, then rushes home to take care of Kai so I can crawl in bed and feel sorry for myself (and when Kai is in bed, he continues to work some more). He is insanely patient and never complains. I have been thinking about this a lot lately - I complain all the time! I blog about my frustrations, I share them on Facebook and Twitter, I tell everybody who is willing to listen. He just keeps going.
For 236 days now he has been listening to "I am not feeling well" and he still gives a shit and responds and asks what he can do to make it better. He deals with work stress and bills that need to get paid and a toddler that throws tantrums and an empty fridge and a moody wife and some random dog that keeps pooping in our driveway every day and he is never mean.
I met Peter in a very strange time of my life, very shortly after my marriage ended in a (for me and at the time) shocking and unexpected way. And I often think about that timing and the fact that I was this close to never meet Peter. Or to never start dating him. I was THIS CLOSE to missing out on the best guy in the Universe who makes me laugh and love and trust and be daring and do insane things so that he can get a good snapshot of me skiing down the mountain.
I would end this with some sappy heartbreaking romantic quote, but I don't have one, so I will just say cheers to him and cheers to me for being this lucky.
PS: And he is hot. Have I mentioned he is really hot?
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