Thanksgiving for the Mr.

Mr. Cookie puts up with a lot.  Frequent emails within which I moan about my newest symptom.  Constant bellyaching about how huge I feel (I’ve heard some nasty rumors that I’m supposed to get bigger?).  Whiny requests to go get that thing that I forgot, inevitably on another floor of the house. 

Whenever I throw something negative at him, he’s standing there, at the ready with something positive.  What’s that?  I was just woken up by my wife at 4 in the morning because her ribs were really painful?  No prob.  I’ll just suggest that she start getting more frequent massages.  My wife just complained for the 50th time today that she was pretty sure I’d never find her attractive again?  Let me rub her belly and kiss her and tell her how excited I am that she’s growing our family. 

He really is the best.  The other day, I announced that the baby is a sweet potato this week (a sweet potato!  That’s, like, so big!!) and instead of rolling his eyes that I was on that stupid pregnancy app again, he came over and started gobbling my stomach (what can I say?  The man is a fiend for sweet potatoes).  This morning, when I emptied the contents of my stomach (a very nice broccoli and cheese omelette he’d just made me) into the toilet, he looked at it and, instead of showing me how sad he must have been that I hadn’t kept his delicious food down, offered that maybe I’d like some crackers instead.

All this to say that I and Stowaway are incredibly lucky people.  I am lucky because he stands with me so firmly in this pregnancy.  I always used to think it was so weird when I’d hear people say “we’re pregnant” about their partner and themself but now it makes so much sense.  Mr. Cookie really does carry a share of this pregnancy because he remembers to take care of me when I forget to.  He’s one step ahead of me when I have a problem.

I looked back to last November in my archives to see if I’d posted about Thanksgiving last year and, of course, I had not.  I was too silly and caught up in problems at work and body image shit to see how good life was right then.  Life is so insanely good!  It was then, too, but maybe I hadn’t had enough hard stuff to make me appreciate the good. 

Pregnancy is hard.  Anyone who says differently may be considered as a surrogate for my next child.  But, no matter what, at the end of the day, I am so excited (and feel so lucky) to have a child.  On the days I forget that, I’m glad that my husband remembers.  He’s going to be a great dad.

I had a dream the other night (my first baby dream) that our child (a son) had been born.  I won’t tell you about the parts where the baby could talk and was very vocal about his feelings regarding breastfeeding (let’s just say he was very opinionated and felt I was not sating him) but I will tell you about the part where Mr. Cookie and his dad took him to a football game and I started sobbing, not because I was sad they were leaving but because they were such a tight little group and I knew that our child was incredibly blessed to have that.  Girl or boy, I know this child will have a special bond with his or her dad (and grandparents). 

18 weeks down.  I am so thankful for those weeks, hard as they may have been.  More importantly, I am so thankful for my husband, who made them easier.  Love you, Daddy-to-be.

2 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    So beautiful to know that you two are truly “growing a family together” — and don’t worry, you are and will continue to be insanely attractive. Keep the glow even as you grow, and never stop sighing or smiling… it’s all for good in the end. Yours, -Sunny

  2. 2

    Jenn and Ben said,

    I felt similarly about Jon during my pregnancy…he emptied out countless trashcans full of vomit throughout all nine months without any complaint! We are so very lucky to have such supportive and awesome hubbies!

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