Let me just preface this by saying that I am the baby whisperer. That might be a slight exaggeration, but I have held about a million babies. Okay, that too.
I’ve held my share of babies. And my friends’ shares because they get all nervous around babies. I remember the first baby I “put to sleep.” He was this adorable little twin, and I was so proud of myself. I was probably about 8. Since then, I’ve grabbed every baby that I am within ten feet of to hang onto. My first niece was born when I was 16, and since then– twelve more kiddos have entered our family. I haven’t dropped one.
So, dear husband, understand that when you tell me, “Hold the baby’s head!” I am taken aback.
And I reply with swagger, “This ain’t my first rodeo.” (Pretty sure that was lost on you…)
Oh, I love your concern–don’t get me wrong. Today when I doubled over in pain after sneezing (ah, pregnancy), I thought we were going to run to the hospital. I had to literally Google “I am pregnant and it hurts when I sneeze” to explain WHY this happens.
I’ve had a runny nose all night, and during our movie night, every time I gave a little sniffle you would pat my leg and ask how I was. Then, when I kicked off my shoes when I came home, you quickly got me my slippers because I “shouldn’t walk around barefoot.”
Oh, heaven help us.
This is why I get up and fix you breakfast. You’re too dang sweet! I have to do nice things in return (plus I am really, REALLY hungry in the morning). I WANT to do nice things in return. And when you offer to help when I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I just love you more.
Raising a baby with you is going to be amazing. Unless you tell me to hold his head… Then you’re going to see a little of my Mamaw in me. (You might not understand that, but know this: it won’t be her good side.)