For the past few months of first trimester craziness, I have pretty much sucked at being a wife as well as terrible at all of the duties I typically take care of. Maybe that is an understatement. I’m sure we both know it is.
For weeks on end, it was all I could do to eat carbs hopefully curbing some of the first trimester nausea and take any given opportunity to sleep (daytime naps included). I barely changed out of my pajamas and looked (+ felt) like a zombie. Of course you know I still stayed home to care for our girls and upheld the commitments to my freelance work, but the rest? You are fully aware; I didn’t do much of it.
I let so much go. I let our house go, and our schedule go, and our meal planning go. I didn’t do too many activities with the girls, I more than slacked on cooking, maybe did about three loads of laundry total and said goodnight to you immediately after those little ones were finally in bed.
We lived in a little chaos. We lacked quality time together. We ate takeout more than I’d love to admit. We got by… thanks to you.
You picked up the slack and not because I ever asked you to. You stepped up and I didn’t even have to say a word or give a glance. You gave me the time and space to feel awful and take care of myself + our growing babe. You were there to comfort me when I was fearful of another miscarriage, especially as I was spotting for weeks on end. You brought me water and nausea medicine and tums while tucking me in before 8:00p, when we would usually be spending time together.
You did loads of laundry between your busy work schedule and never once mentioned the not-so-nice glances I gave you when the colors weren’t separated and everything was wrinkly as it was put away. You picked up the house at the end of the day and cleaned up the kitchen most of the time. And when I would walk downstairs with our darn early risers in the morning, scoffing a little when it wasn’t done, you still wished me a good day and went off to work with a smile asking ‘what you could do for me that would make my day better’. You cleaned the whole house when it got to a point that I couldn’t take it anymore but didn’t have the heart to tell you to do it (or hire a cleaning lady). You just knew exactly what to do, because you love me – and you love us. You, my husband, have a tremendous capacity to show me grace. I wish I could be more like you.
I haven’t been the best wife these past few months, but the thing is, it makes me realize just how much of a team we are. You are my rock and you are an extraordinary partner. I know you don’t expect a public expression of gratitude, or anything in return for that matter. You did it all because you wanted to do it for our family. I am so thankful to have you as a husband and love how the role of daddy looks on you. I can’t imagine going through this wild-hormone-crazed, crabby, tired, zombie-like, sick-filled, body-changing phase with absolutely anyone else.
I think I can speak for both of us when I say, Happy Second Trimester! But, I’d also like to speak for myself and say t-h-a-n-k-y-o-u. I’m sure it hasn’t always been a pleasure, but you put up with it oh-so-well.