Going From Two To Three

Dear Husband,

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

Make Me Willing (Prayers From the Midnight Hours)

A happy boy after some daddy-son bonding time.

Let me be clear:  I know I do not have it as hard as my wife does throughout the day.  I get to work in a shop all day, shipping stuff around the world, and she is home every day, each one being an unpredictable day, being dictated around by a little 12 lb boy.  That has to be humbling.  My big responsibilities right now during the week are the midnight hour changing "opportunities" as I'm calling them.  A chance to get up before Noelle to change this beautiful kid and see what he managed to do to his diaper this time. It's really quite a game he and I have going.

All that to say, these changing opportunities have not always been a smooth ride.  Sometimes he's weeping and wailing so loud I can't hear myself think, and even though I want to lovingly whisper sweet nothing's enter his ear so he'll be a happy little boy, nothing works.  By the time Noelle comes in to feed him, my blood pressure is up and my words are better left unsaid (even though, sadly, they usually still get said).  Other times I've just been frustrated that I have to wake up at 12...2... 4:30 or something like that.  After all, Noelle is about to get up to feed him, right?  Why am I bothering to change him when I could just stay in bed?  It only seems necessary for one of us to be up.  This sucks.

Those are some of the thoughts that