On being married to a Dad

I’ve always known I’ve never been good with stairs. I trip going up them and I trip going down them. Guess what? Believe it or not, this gets worse with a big pregnant belly making it difficult to see my feet. Last night, I was reminded to watch out for stairs, once more.

I spent most of my evening last night at the hospital. Granted, I had to be there for our first labour and delivery class. But before the class, I managed to take a flying leap while taking a few stairs, and I fell right on the belly. (This is the second time this pregnancy that this happened, but the first time I managed to catch myself with my hands.) I immediately started to feel some pains in my belly (although I had been feeling pains already during the day before the fall). We left to go to the hospital for the class, and I kept my mouth shut about falling. Halfway through the class, I decided to let Dan know that I had fallen, and he was furious that I hadn’t told him earlier. He was so worried about the baby and me. So, we left the class, and I was admitted and the baby was monitored. Luckily, the baby was in no distress and all was fine.

But, this just reminds me, as I continue to be reminded, what a wonderful husband I have. Of course, I knew I was with a wonderful man when I said “I do”. What I didn’t know was that there was more to this man than I knew. I knew the man who was funny and passionate and driven. I always thought that he would eventually be a great father, but I never knew the father. Since being pregnant, I have realized that the man I married is just another whole level of wonderful. He is so caring, so concerned about me and the baby. He is so gentle and kind and thoughtful. He loves his baby so much already, even though the baby hasn’t even been born. He talks to the baby and kisses my belly and lets the baby wiggle under his hands. Dan is an amazing man, but he is an even more amazing man as a father. And I had no idea I could fall in love with him more than I already had. But I did.