A Thank-You To My Husband, From Your Postpartum Wife

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A Thank-You To My Husband, From Your Postpartum Wife

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To my husband after we’ve had a baby,

It was impossible for us to know what any of this would be like, this new season. We went into labor as delivery rookies, relying on our childbirth classes and Google for our limited knowledge.

You calmed my nerves and held my hand through every contraction. You prayed us through the scary parts and ugly-cried as we met our baby girl for the first time. You told me how proud you were of me and my “superhuman strength,” and you helped me with, well, everything in the tough days after when I felt like my strength had left me.

So here we are now, with a 5-week-old who has a smile just like yours, and you still tell me how proud you are of me. Of us. Of our little family. Day in and day out, you tell me how beautiful I am even when my hair is 97% dry shampoo. You turn your head when I eat five of the lactation cookies we both know I made just so I can have cookies. You never protest when I tell you I need Starbucks and to walk around Target for a couple hours. Never speak a word of my mood swings. Never flip out when I say I’m crying for no reason or because “she’s growing too fast.” You listen to me. You help make the major changes not seem so major. You take me on dates because you know we need time to focus on us.

You love me just the same. No, scratch that — you love me more. You carefully push me to be the best version of myself. This new version of myself.

Some days are hard, and some nights we don’t get much sleep between the diaper changes and feedings. Some days I don’t get a shower and I walk around for hours with dried milk and spit-up all over me. You never hesitate to jump in and finish dinner when she decides it’s time to eat — again — and you never complain when I pass her to you with a dirty diaper the second you walk in the door so I can pee. You change basically all the diapers and have learned to make the best half-caf coffee. You wake up extra early to clean the kitchen while I feed/pump/feed because you “don’t want me to have to worry with it.”

And so I thank you.

For telling me I’m a good mom. For loving me. No matter what I look like or how I feel. Thank you for always thinking I am the prettiest. The best. The sexiest. Even when I don’t feel like it.

I am going to work hard on loving myself the way that you love me because the way you love me is the greatest way of all. I love being your wife, and I love doing this parenting thing with you. I thank God every day for this sacred season, and I know the best is yet to come.