Anyone who *chooses* to be a pregnant single mom is either crazy, stupid, rich, or incredibly brave. There's really no in between here. Why do I say something that might make me incredibly unpopular (I feel like I can smell the comments coming)? Because I can't IMAGINE being pregnant without Christian, my husband.
Christian is amazing. Really. Actually amazing. When I feel exhausted, which for the first three months was constant, he didn't bat an eye. He started cooking dinner. He started doing the laundry. When my legs started to swell, he massaged them before I went to sleep to literally push the fluid back to where it was supposed to be. He's put lotion on my calves and painted my toenails. He's cleaned the bathtub (which he HATES with a burning passion). He's rubbed my back when I was sore, and he's held me whenever I fell apart weeping. He's grabbed me bottles of cold water when I start to get thirsty and he's given me the extra meat at meals to make sure I was getting enough iron. Of course, he's done late night grocery runs to satisfy crazy cravings, but he's also gone on walks with me when he's bone tired from work to make sure I'm exercising enough.
I know few men are like this with their pregnant partners. I know I'm blessed beyond belief with him. I thank God every day for him. I do.
And even though I know he is a rare find, I also know, this is what husbands are meant to do. Just like wives should take care of their husbands when they're sick etc, husbands are meant to care for their wives when they're pregnant. It's part of their job - a job that we wives don't even know they're supposed to do until we're in the middle of needing it done.
When we're young girls, we're taught to want some kind of handsome prince or knight in shining armor who will come and rescue us, take us away, marry us and then we'll live happily ever after. The thing is we're never taught what happily ever after looks like. We're taught that we should have children, but the process is abstract, hazy - completely undefined.
We don't know the reality of the thing. We know the prince or knight story is a fake, but we don't know about that happily ever after. We don't know about pregnancy or childbirth. We don't realize what a number it will do on our bodies. We don't know how hard it will be. Going in, we don't realize we won't be able to bend at the waist, or touch our toes, or have days when we can't do more than sleep, eat, and poop (sound familiar?). We just don't know how much we'll need that other person who helped us start this strange journey to stay by us, helping us every single second of every day. Because the reality is, while we might be able to force ourselves to get through it, painfully, horribly, the whole thing is a hell of a lot better when someone is there for every leg cramp, every sob fest, and every late-night craving (Oh! PB&J is happening in like 2 minutes!).
Husbands - partners - spouses are meant to be there. They're meant to care for us waddling prego ladies. And personally, I wouldn't have it any other way.
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