survivng pregnancy

An ode to my fantastic husband:

I know an ode feels like it should rhyme or go along with some fancy classical music. This one doesn’t, but if I could write music or poetry, I certainly would have. I figure that this is the closest I will get to a poetical symphony, so it is a Sarah style ode.

Chris has been super husband through our whole trying to have kids fiasco started. The guy had to give me shots and discuss our sexual habits with perfect strangers but even so, he still had the compassion to tenderly love me and help me as I was having rough reactions to various fertility treatments.

Actually, I don’t know what we will do when we no longer have some form of reproductive drama going on in our lives. It seems like an integral part of life now, like the sun coming up. That is partly why it is still so amazing to me that he so enthusiastically does whatever he can to help. One of the latest developments is that with me on bed rest, he has completely re-arranged any and all forms of entertainment that we had spread throughout the house. They are all now hooked up to be controlled via remote and viewable from bed. I feel like one of those master computer guys you always imagine, tucked away in some basement with a dozen fancy screens. Anyway, it gives me absolutely no room to complain, I am living the dream every guy only wishes he could dream. And that is not to mention the gourmet omelet, French toast, or almost anything else high in protein, iron, or fat I happen to feel like eating. Gosh, Chris would even feed me ice cream all day if he thought I would eat it.

We found out that I was behind on my weight gain, and ever since, Chris has delighted in watching me get bigger and bigger, like it was his own personal accomplishment. In a way, I guess it is. He makes me enough food and then feeds me enough of the generous meals people keep bringing us. It’s good because it ups our chances of giving birth to three pound babies instead of one pound kids, but it is an odd ‘get fat as quickly as you can’ paradigm to accustom myself to. Points to Chris, though. He seems to love his fat wife just as much as his skinny one and I thank my lucky stars again that I somehow got him.