This past Monday, we had a family outing to the Doctor’s office. Both Baby Rafa and I had appointments to make sure our stuff is working right. And when I say family outing, I mean it. Baby and I were escorted by my husband… and my mother… and grandmother.
Since the idea of Rafa began, Husband has been on the verge of breaking into tears as easily as a Broadway musical breaks into song, but since the birth, the tears come for almost anything. If she hiccups, if Jersey smells her feet, if she’s wearing a hat… tears galore times a thousand. When she grows up, she’ll see the pictures of the night she was born: me smiling, her dad’s eyes red and watery.
When we got to the doctor’s office today, for a reason I can’t remember now, he teared up and Dr. Fernandez, after slightly making fun of him said to me, “Oh, you lucked out.”
I know.
I knew when we started dating. I knew when we got engaged. I knew when we got married that there is no one sweeter, better, more loving, more attentive, more amazing, more “in it” with me than Husband. Where many husbands/dads leave it to their partners to handle things, he has been through every step of everything with me. From planning our engagement party, to pulling off our wedding, to being at every single doctor’s appointment and sanitizing nipple shields – he is the most stand up guy that exists.
Hello? Why do you think I married him?
