Thursday, May 6, 2010
Sorry, he doesn't have any brothers.
Before I start my usual rambling, I just want to apologize to my husband. He hates when I write or say mushy stuff about him. Says it's like bragging and it doesn't look good. Hates when other people do it, too. So, for the most part, I keep it to myself, with an occasional good word to his mom, so she knows she raised him right :) There are so many sweet things P has done that I have never shared with anyone. However, I'm going to go ahead and do it anyway this one time. I don't want my husband to be my "unsung" hero. Sorry, hunny, but I'm about to open my big, fat mouth.
I had no doubt that if I were ever ill or disabled, my husband would take care of me. In sickness and in health, right? Even before we were married, P always took real good care of me. So, am I surprised that he is the same sweet, caring man during this rough pregnancy? Absolutely not! But every single day, it hits me just the same, how wonderful he truly is.
Since we found out back in January that we were going to become parents, P has been my rock. I can honestly and shamefully say that this pregnancy might not have lasted this long if P had been any different. There were times when I felt like giving up and saying...this is not worth it. But right then, I'd throw up and everything would be peachy keen again. It wouldn't be long before my insides were spinning and my knuckles would turn white from gripping the sofa cushions. I would sit there, shut my eyes and concentrate, slowing my heart rate, trying to relax my mind, hoping I could go another few hours away from the toilet. Finally, when I opened my eyes, there was my sweet P, looking so concerned and feeling so awful about my condition. That's all it takes, that face of his. It may not make my nausea go away, but instantly, it's a little more bearable. And each time, I care a little less about me and little more about Baby.
I think by now, P knows the supermarket layout better than I do. I lost count of how many trips he's made so far. And folks, P is not accustomed to going to the market by himself. Even he admits, at first he was like that guy from the Carl's Jr. commercial, wandering the aisles aimlessly, poking the raw meat, wondering how in the world that ever became a hamburger patty. What panic and pressure P must've been under! But he triumphed and conquered, my friends. My P would visit 2-3 different markets until he found a good watermelon! He'd not only complete his shopping list, he'd buy all sorts of new snacks for me to try. All fortified with some sort of vitamin, of course. :) He'd come home and research what foods were good for Baby and then go out and buy all those, too. He even scoped out all the daily supermarket ads to see who had the best deals. Even my mom was impressed at his newfound skill. Naturally, it wasn't long before our house looked like a supermarket itself!
Everyday, I would get a full body massage, complete with accupressure treatment from P. Normally, I'm too ticklish for any of this. You can come at me with wiggling fingers and I would swear I could feel them while you're still 10 feet away. But somehow, this pregnancy rid me of all that. Even after work and driving that awful 405 traffic, P would still have the energy to rub my back, legs and arms. It was heaven! And as soon as I was able to eat something other than mangoes and bananas, P would drive to Subway every single day after work and order 2 veggie footlongs for us. We've now moved to Yoshinoya, btw.
That's another thing. My poor husband's diet had changed drastically during the last few months. At first, he ate the normal food that my mom would cook up for him. You know, meaty dishes. But I couldn't handle the smell...not even his breath. Especially if he ate meat or kimchi. He would brush his teeth, rinse with mouthwash. All of it was in vain, sadly. My nose is that of a bloodhound's. I can smell a person's last meal through their pores. I kid you not. To make things worse, he had to eat every meal in the garage. The whole family did! He moved the microwave in there so that they could heat up food without stinking up the house. Let's not forget, the nights have been cold until recently. So, every day, P would have to bundle up just to eat his meal in the cold garage, all alone, with no TV. Sometimes he ate in the car. And not once, did he complain. There have been many nights, where P hardly ate anything at all. And as I lay awake with my nausea, I could hear his stomach growl as he sleeps. Then I would burst into tears, trying to keep my sobs to a minimum so as to not wake him.
Well, that is, not until he saw the rat. I know....EEEEK! That was the last meal P ever ate in the garage. He moved to eating in the front and backyard. Luckily by then, my senses were able to tolerate a little more. Still no meat, onion or garlic. Eventually, P learned to eat mostly vegetarian meals, stuff that wouldn't smell too strongly of anything. So, now he eats with me in the house. Anything that does stink, he wolfs down instantly before it has a chance to permeate the air. As a result, P lost some weight. Whereas, I've gained a few. Ain't life funny?
So as much as I've suffered throughout all this, P has, too. He's given up food, sleep, warmth, even his hard-earned time off. Just to make me feel better. His vacation time was spent cooped up in the house with me. He gave up an annual snowboarding trip to Mammoth. The only time he ever leaves the house is to go to work and get food for me. I know he'd rather be fishing, out with friends, or just plain not thinking about what I'll ask him to do next. But he hasn't said one word. He even tried to hide his awful cold from me, so I wouldn't worry about him. I, later, found a box of medicine in his jacket pocket that he had been taking when I wasn't looking.
Now that I'm much better, P no longer has to make those market runs by himself. But he still goes out to get dinner or whatever I'm craving. And he still gives me those wonderful massages. And he still asks me how I'm doing when we're just sitting there, watching TV. If anything, he's taken on a whole new list of responsibilities. Like researching the best baby furniture and gear. He's been doing his best to eat up all the food that laying around that I just can't seem to get down. Now, he tries to get me to be more active and exercise, ordering DVD after DVD on prenatal yoga. Whenever he finds the opportunity, he talks to co-workers and even patients about their experiences with pregnancy, extracting every piece of advice he can get.
My mom told me that back when she was pregnant, it wasn't all that unusual for the husband to just disappear. As if their presence made things worse. I'm pretty sure it was mix of fear, laziness, ignorance and, of course, selfishness. Boy, am I glad times have changed. That doesn't mean these awful men don't still exist, of course. She's very thankful for her son-in-law. I know it's a great relief to her knowing he's there to take care of me. What mother wouldn't be?
Before I go, I just want to give you another example of how sweet P is. I guess they're doing a Mother's Day special on the Ellen DeGeneres show. The entire audience will be filled with mothers. And not just any moms. First-time mothers-to-be!! There's supposed to be tons of giveaways, which we all know would be such a lifesaver!! Plus, it's Ellen! Who doesn't love Ellen! And the only way to get tickets was to write in, state your case and hopefully the staff will pick you. I had no idea this was going on. I don't know how P found out about it either. Well, I guess P wrote the Ellen show a bunch of times. He said he emailed them about me and how I deserved to be in the audience. He even tried to get tickets for my pregnant best friends! But he never heard back from them. And the taping is today. He was so crushed. All day yesterday, P was so upset and mad at Ellen. He probably still is. I tried to explain that Ellen is super popular and there is such a major baby boom right now, I'm sure we'd have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting Ellen tickets. And I told him that Ellen herself probably didn't pick the winners herself. But it didn't help. I realized that he must've really felt that I truly deserved those tickets more than anyone else. He even blames himself, saying his emails weren't good enough. Poor guy went to bed angry.
Just when I think it doesn't get any better than this....he goes and does something so thoughtful, makes me wanna shout to the world that I am the luckiest woman alive! So Phil, please don't be mad at Ellen anymore. I don't need those gifts and freebies. Maybe the staff figured out what I already know. That no amount of free diaper bags is going to make me happier than you already have.