To My Husband: I See You, Too

To my husband, first off, I’m not going to apologize. Mostly because you tell me to stop saying I’m sorry for everything and this will inevitably lead me to apologize for apologizing.

Here you are in the first year of this thing called parenthood. I’m sure being a dad is so much different than you imagined, even though we said we had no idea what to expect.

But more than just learning to be a dad, you’re learning how to be a husbandto a new mom as well. The old me is gone. The new me is here, and we’re both navigating her.

Let me tell you the words I regularly need to hear myself – I see you.

I saw you in the hospital lobby, wide-eyed and flustered. I saw you in the delivery room; your face and voice sticking out to me in the haze of labor. I saw you hovering over the bassinet in those first moments, talking to your daughter as the nurse took her measurements. I saw you at 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. and 7 a.m. sitting up in bed with the baby on your chest, letting her and I get some sleep while you watched over us. I saw you from the kitchen, taking the baby to give me a few moments to myself.

I saw you as you became baby’s primary caregiver for three months after I went back to work. I saw you as she laughed, rolled over, and crawled for the first time. I saw your glee when she adored you building forts as much as you adored building them for her. I saw you cheer silently as she started throwing a ball around {and I can tell you’re already thinking of what sports she might play}.

I see you being pulled in hundreds of directions and how difficult that is when everything takes you away from us. I can tell it is not easy, and I know I don’t make it easier. I see you putting in the long hours at work, on the farm, at home, and everywhere else in-between for us, for the dreams we have and are working towards.

I see you late at night when you finally sink into a comfortable chair for a few minutes after hours upon hours in those work boots. I see you peeking at the monitor to catch a glimpse of the sleeping baby on the nights you can’t get home before bedtime. I see you turn off your alarm on Monday mornings and turn over to hold me for a few minutes before the day starts.

Honey, the demands of being a parent are great. Sometimes I get frustrated with how unequal it seems for the loads we carry when it comes to our kid. Even for us, who are pretty progressive and share husband and wife duties in not so conventional ways. But I try to remember while one load may seem heavier for me, I know there is another load you are carrying more of in return.

I need you to know you’re doing so great. You take everything in stride and keep going. You handle me and the baby crying ALL THE TIME, and hardly ever lose patience, or at least don’t show you do. And you somehow navigate this new me with so much grace and compassion {any tips on that because most days I really don’t like her?}.

So while I give you a hard time and can be beyond difficult, I need you to know I see you, husband. I see all that you’re doing and how hard you’re trying. And while I forget to say it or show it before I move on to the next thing the baby needs or fall into bed and fall asleep immediately, I am so grateful for you.

You are strong and pour in your strength to me. You are driven and fan the flame to our dreams but also to my individual dreams. You are kind and listen EVERY.SINGLE.TIME I say I’m struggling and don’t know what I’m doing.

We adore you, husband, even if you do tuck baby’s pants into her socks when you get her dressed, in true dad fashion, or can never seem to hit the laundry basket with the dirty laundry {are you sure you were a hotshot in basketball because I’m having my doubts with your percentage at the laundry basket?}. I wish you could feel how my heart jumps when I hear you pull in the drive or see how the baby and the dog race each other to the window to watch you.

Today, on this very ordinary day, I want you to know I see you and I appreciate you, my dear husband.
Now go pick up your socks!