This post is about the man.
The man that chose me, took me for his bride, carried me three and a half years. The man who rubbed my back when I got sick daily, who kissed my forehead as I laid in bed all day long.
We walked together around the neighborhood, stopped when I had a contraction. I’d put my hands on his shoulders and breathe through it, apparently almost strangling him as my hands moved toward his throat…oops.
He never complained, never condemned, never shamed. He always encouraged, always believed.
In our Bradley class we talked about the importance of the coach’s role. He would need to be there, totally focused on me, totally ready to do anything to help get that baby out. I knew in the class that this man would be there; I knew that he would find an uncommon strength in those moments to pull me forward into a successful birth.
I knew how exhausted he was, and I watched as he held Eliot and slept for the three nights we stayed in the hospital. There were looks of wonder spread across his daddy-face. There was sheer joy mixed in with the tiredness. When he finally decided to go home and shower, he came back dressed up in his wedding shirt. He gave me a necklace, a token with which I could forever remember the days, the hours, the moments first spent with my love and my firstborn son.
Day after day we waited to go home, and day after day they wanted to keep me, “just one more night.” I was fine. I was ready to go home–I needed to go home.
The man that fought for me fought for his son. Fought for our health. Fought for our home. A new strength appeared that he had no idea dwelled within him, and it was powerful.
If ever I had a man to win my heart, a warrior to fight for my honor…it is the man who walked with me through dark, contraction-laden blocks; it is the man who stood outside the shower while I weathered that storm. It is the man who fed me crushed ice and held, held, held my hand. It is the man who literally never left my side, the man who kissed my forehead, the man who cut the cord, the man who said his son’s name just moments after birth.
The man I absolutely, adoringly love. The man I can never thank enough.
You showed me the video to this song last week and it’s been in my head ever since.
“And we’re dancing in the minefields
We’re sailing in the storm
This is harder than we dreamed
But I believe that’s what the promise is for.”
I love you.