There is nothing like being a new parent.
It’s hard enough to read people when they can talk to you. It’s even more difficult to try and figure out what they want in the middle of the night solely based upon a blood curdling scream.
It’s hard to feel like a good parent when most of your successes were just guesses that turned out to be correct.
But I have to say that if I had to do this fancy guess work with anyone, I’m glad it’s Andrew.
I hope that I paint him like an angel-man. One in a million. I hope that I make you really jealous every time you read a blog about him…because that is exactly how he is.
Yesterday, Andrew woke up with our baby at 5, stayed awake and rubbed my back while I fed her, changed her diaper and then got up and dressed for the day. He then proceeded to go to Pennsylvania to chop wood and load it in our car, drive it back and then take all of this said wood and stack it neatly in our yard so that we could save money on heat this year.
If that wasn’t enough, he cleaned out the refrigerator…
And on the limited amount of sleep he already had, he proceeded to help me out again last night – rubbing my back when I sat up bleary-eyed to breast feed, changed Clare’s massively poopy diaper (the entire thing was poop) and then attempting for 45 minutes to bounce her to sleep.
After all his efforts Andrew didn’t get Clare to fall asleep last night. He didn’t breast feed her (thank God). But this morning he woke early and went to work where he sacrificed time he would rather have spent doing a million other things to provide for our little family.
It is hard being a good mother. But it is just as hard, if not harder, to be a good father.
I’m proud of my husband for all that he does.
I’m thankful that he loved Clare from the start despite the fact that he could have been blazing mad about the pregnancy as I was.
I’m overwhelmed when I come around the corner of our house and find him cooing quietly at our little raspberry.
I haven’t made dinner since we had Clare; Every night Andrew pulls something together. Andrew changed every single diaper in the hospital while I was too weak to get out of bed. He has been to the store countless times for diapers, wipes, feminine pads, breast cream, breast pads, stool softener (!) and any number of cravings I’ve had…
What more could I ask for in a partner?
What more could Clare ask for in a father?
Who the hell cares if she didn’t fall asleep last night after he bounced her for what seemed like hours?
He’s exactly what we both want…and need.
Thank you Andrew for everything you do and for cleaning out the refrigerator.
In other parts of my world: Just got Clare’s social security card. Don’t know that it will mean anything by the time she gets to the age to use it but it is rather exciting to have her name on an official document. Now I have to try not to lose it.