The involved husband

Papapotamus has been warming my overly emotional pregnant lady heart. He has endured far too many natural birth YouTube videos. He has completely dismantled and reassembled a stroller / car seat system in an aisle of Babies R Us. He remembered every single question that kept me up the night before my first midwife appointment, and he asked the midwife all of them for me while I sat there with pregnancy amnesia.

My husband does all of these supportive things, not because he wants to keep me from whining and complaining and bursting into emotional outbursts of mostly unsolicited tears, but because he really cares and is genuinely interested. It's not that I ever thought his intentions were less than pure, but I had suspected that perhaps he was going through a motion here or there to fulfill his husbandly obligations.

I stand corrected.

This morning Papapotamus had a nice, long conversation with my sister about (drum roll) placenta, afterbirth, breast feeding, and pulsing umbilical cords. During this nice, long conversation he was full of passion, full of zest, and full of incredibly useful information. He listened! He really listened!

Last night he read an entire article about the emotional signposts of labor. Then we talked about it. That's right ladies, be jealous.

When I cry at night thinking about the uncertainty of the pain, stress, and sliminess that awaits me in approximately 108 days, Papapotamus is always there to hold me and comfort me. He tells me that everything will be okay and that he will be there for me every step of the way. So far, he has been and I have no doubt that he is going to continue.

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