I know when I told you in your work parking lot that I was pregnant, late summer of last year, that you were excited. I'm sorry I didn't include what would follow for the two of us. Now I know...
I would have told you that everything I am about to say for the next nine months will sound ridiculous and crazy, but you are never allowed to admit that in the moment.
I would have told you that
despite loving to talk about our future together over meals, suddenly the conversation would revolve around my bodily changes... daily, and in detail.
I would have warned you that my skin would itch, my boobs would hurt and my butt would grow, and while you know I want you, please don't touch me right now, I'm feeling emotional.
I would have apologized for waking you up four times a night to pee, and then moan as I turn my ever-growing self into a new sleeping position.
And then he came. Our son. That first night we just kept looking at each other and saying "he's ours?!" We were in for it! Looking back, I probably should have...
...warned you that the first trimester was just a foretaste of the postpartum craziness you were about to witness.
... told you I would need cues and prompting to talk about anything OTHER than poop and nursing at the dinner table.
... prepared you for while you were excited to finally get your wife back, she would be unsure of herself, exhausted and that her body was rather dedicating to meeting Colton's needs at the moment.
...told you that yes, now you too would be getting up that many times a night, not to pee, but to cater to our little someone's bodily calls.
But, you didn't know any of this ahead of time. And we're doing okay.
Thank you for gracefully taking on this new role while remaining my man. Thank you for the efforts made to make me feel like more than a dairy cow/ babysitter/ entertainer. I know I may not always express my gratitude when I'm cranky, over-heated, unshowered and hungry- but you, my love, are amazing.