While this site celebrates the mothers and Mother’s Day every day, I would be remise if I did not recognize the fathers on this weekend. Moreover, I want to especially recognize my husband, the father of my son.
Like most fathers, my husband enjoyed all the sex necessary to make a baby. What made him extra special was his support during the infertility treatment. In fact for a trauma present, he bought me my first Prada handbag (which I had wanted for many years). Hearing our son’s heartbeat for the first time during the ultrasound made it all worthwhile.
Trying to keep a straight face, he sat in the birthing classes with me. We couldn’t resist laughing when the breastfeeding coach referred to breast milk as fast food. “Do you want fries with that shake?” I mumbled, which almost got us kicked out of the class.
To be prepared, we practiced breathing for months before the delivery. We even practiced what he should say. “My friend said her husband said that’s gotta hurt when the baby came out. Don’t ever say that!”
And, when that day came, all of our preparation went out the window. “Give me drugs,” I screamed when the hard labor started.” I finished with “Screw the breathing. You try breathing with these contractions.” It was a long and draining day. At 10 hours and counting, the nurses urged him to take a break. He leaned over to say “I’m really tired. Is it okay if I take a break?” To his credit, he stopped leaving when I shot him a look and said “You need a break!” When he stayed, I never felt so loved.
Returning home with our boy, we took shifts to make sure that we each got sleep. Rushing home from work each day, he would feed my son and hold him in the evening while I slept. Waking up one evening, I came into the TV room to find him smiling with my son asleep on his chest.
When it came to teaching our son nothing was beneath his dad. One day I walked into the living room to find my husband on the floor with our son, “see how you get up on your hands and knees to crawl. Come on you can do it,” he encouraged my son to crawl. In my secret stash of pictures, I have a picture of my son’s tiny butt next to his dad’s as they were crawling together. I would show you but I have been strictly forbidden to publish it.
Don’t get me started on the challenges that he has embraced with our son’s allergies. Although much of what our son eats is foreign to Dad, he drives miles out of his way to buy vegan cheese, ice cream and bake goods. Since his favorite activity as a child was to go for ice cream, he has started eating Vegan ice cream with his son as a one of their bonding experiences. “That’s the kind of love I have you,” he said.
Another bonding time for them has been roller coasters. Because he couldn’t wait to start riding roller coasters with our son, he started when our son was 18 months on the little caterpillar at Edaville Railroad. Graduating to the Polar Coaster at Storyland and Rudy’s Rapid Transit Coaster at Santa’s Village, they have been working their way through roller coasters. Last year they rode the Aerosmith coaster at Disney, which led to all of our concerns with the dreaded 80’s gene.
When our son was old enough, they started taking Taekwondo together and practicing at home. At the first testing when my son looked like a deer in the headlights, my husband sat next to him with his arm around him. Now that they are in weapons class, I have to be careful when I am walking through the house. “Sorry mom,” I have heard on more than one occasion.
When I was tucking my son into bed one night, he asked me “why did you wait so long to have me? I was waiting in heaven for soooo long.” My answer to him was “I waited until I found the perfect daddy for you.” I continued, “I only want the best for you. I love you,” I finished and kissed him on the head. Smiling he nestled into his blankets and said, “Thanks mom.”