I did not feel a thing the day I got pregnant. I just went with the flow and then came the side effects. I fell sick, I was sad one moment and happy the next. Poor husband was trying to sail the same boat but the sailor (Of course me!!! Duh!) was being cranky and moody. Surprise Surprise!!! The wife (me) was finally about to deliver.
Through all those mood swings and long days, the husband comforted me, laughed with me, was quiet when I was crying, listened when I vented and bunked office for me. And yes, like the quintessential father-to-be, got all the food I wanted to eat and sat and watched, with a caring look on his face, while I gorged.
He also said “I love you” many times, meaning it every time, to reassure me of his love, and mind you it is no mean feat to say that to an engorged, cranky, can-go- crazy-any- moment woman who constantly doubted her looks and her capability of fulfilling the upcoming responsibility all the time.
And then one fine morning it was the day. Little Amaira was ready. I panicked but the Husband asked, “ Can I sleep in a bit”? That “Are you insane “ look from me told him it was time to go to the hospital, to let Little amaira face this world now.
It was a C-Sec. He could not handle the stress.Little Amaira arrived with much fanfare in the household and was the center of attraction and the husband basked in the glory of being a father. His paternity leave was spent in the hospital, with me, while we both learned to take care of the baby and he ensured that I took care to heal my scar.
The depression soared, the mood started swinging faster than the pendulum clock and the sleeplessness made me look and feel like a Robot on an auto mode. The only thing that kept me human was his wise reminder “This too shall pass” that was met with a crazed look from me.
It has been two years since little Amaira came. The routine gets better by the day and I even manage to win a few loving gazes from my girl, that makes this journey worthwhile. The little devil that shows the doubt of being a good parent every other day in my mind is shooed away- when I see my husband staring at little Amaira lovingly, his chest swelling with pride for she has passed a healthy poop successfully and is reassured that with him around, parenting will only get better. Because he manages to tell me how much he loves me while am being pooped or vomited on and struggling with a hyperactive little Amaira. The wife has now become a mom because the husband has made this transition possible by helping me to play all the roles with panache every day.