A Long Time Coming
A post about my partner has been marinating since I first started this blog.
I realized that I’d never be able to write it if I didn’t just do it. And maybe, I’ll have to do it over and over again. See, as mamas know, there aren’t enough words, or enough sentiments, or the perfect Valentine’s card to thank your partner for helping to get you through the earth-shaking reality of becoming a mother. I knew he was good person, and I knew he would be a good father, but I didn’t know that I need and want someone so desperately by my side when our daughter came into the word – an event that sent me into the tailspin of my life. I didn’t know he’d have to prop me up on pillows to help me feed our daughter in the middle of the night because childbirth is akin to getting hit by a Mack Truck and then needing stiches only in your vagina. I didn’t know he’d have to convince me that life was worth living as I sunk deeper and deeper in postpartum depression. I didn’t know the people we would become to each other, and to our daughter. I just didn’t know.
I still don’t know what to say to him. How to thank him. For saving me. For saving our lives. For saving our future. I only know my indebtedness to his kindness. His patience. And his nerves of steel as he watched what was supposed to be the time of our lives crumble into tears and fear all around him. What do you say to someone who stands by you like that? Thank you? I honestly don’t know.
Also, scarily for him, I’ve become more myself than I have ever been as I emerge this-side of postpartum depression and anxiety. This side, I am this ferocious beast of a woman who is insatiable about her dreams, her plans, her future. And yet, he is calm. He listens. He tells me his plans, his fears, his dreams. He never makes me feel like the things I want are wrong. He never makes me feel wrong.
Maybe he did know what he was getting into after all.