Most pregnant women have a particular pet peeve that I think I better nip in the bud before this post starts: “We” are not pregnant. Just I am. But, you, my dear husband, are most definitely carrying this baby too.

I see that light in your face when the official two pink lines show up. I watch you as you see our baby for the first time on that screen. What I see is anxious willingness and drive to make everything as safe and comfortable as it can be for me. I see the eagerness to help in any and every way possible to ease my burdens so I can bring this baby to full term. I may hold this baby in my pelvis, but you carry this baby more than you know. Much more than society realizes a husband does.

You put shoes on my feet when I can’t reach.

You run to the store for a food craving you know that I need right now.

You make supper for our kids and yourself when you know I can’t bare the smell of anything but salt and vinegar chips.

You clean out closets and vacuum floors when I haven’t the energy, despite my strong desires to nest our house.

You bring up the baby stuff from the storage room and even wash all the newborn clothes.

You allow me to take my anger out fully even when I’m making no sense.

You don’t ridicule me when I ask the same questions repeatedly because my memory is gone.

You console me as I cry for no reason.

You call me hot even when I’m wearing a moomoo dress.

You pick up the groceries and put them all away.

You help me walk when I am too sore to move.

You let me sleep in without guilt.

You give me strength and confidence.

You help silence my darkest fears.

You carry me, so I can carry our babe. Dear husband, I hope you know how much I appreciate that you’re carrying this baby too.