Phew, today has been a long day. A lot of denominational work (3 separate, long meetings), a career assessment lunch and a Lenten Bible Study.
And yet I want to give some explanation to the post below.
I always knew TDH's hesitance to have children was a confidence issue rather than anything else it could have been. Everyone knew he would be a good Daddy, but him. Still, I did not want to do anything without him being on board with the decision.
So we went to marriage counseling. My thoughts on that were if we did decide not to have children, I wanted to work through all of that now so that well into our marriage I was not bitter about what we never had.
He had various reasons for not wanting children and in different conversations about it he made clear that he had never changed a diaper and was NOT into bodily fluids and would not be able to help with any of that.
Then came the surprises.
One of his fears was of getting hurt. So my first surprise came when after we lost Baby Snowpea instead of saying no more pain, he instead was convinced that he indeed wanted to be a father.
If we were going to have a baby then he wanted a girl. It was very quiet in our car coming home from the ultrasound that clearly showed 'boy'. So again what a pleasant surprise to have him enthralled with his son since the's boy's first cry cut through the delivery room. I still remember as they were sewing up my c-section telling him to go with his son and the doctor to the nursery. The sentence was not finished yet and he was out the door.
Remember the 'no diapers' clause in our agreement to have offspring? We were home three days before I was finally allowed to change our boy's diaper. TDH did all of the yucky, tar ones in the hospital and then also at home. He also did them with such patience and precision (a TDH trademark) that the dirty ones were like origami projects whose art unfortunately was not fully appreciated in the Diaper Genie.
And then the other night, another surprise. The Boy was in bed and I went to check on him and there was barely digested ham and peaches and Lord knows what else EV-E-R-Y-WHERE. This was not cute, baby spit-up. This was nasty.
TDH came up and helped me give The Boy a shower and then with a fresh shirt on both of them I could hear 'The Noise' from down the hall and waited for the exclamation of disgust and the plea for me to come get our child. I even half expected him to just put the poor boy on the floor.
But instead as I rushed around the corner I saw a man holding his boy close to his body, rubbing his back and telling him it was going to be ok.
I feel like I witnessed one of those 'soul' moments you hear about.
These moments of joy no longer shock me, but I do enjoy that this relationship between father and son has become such a pleasant surprise.