[My husband keeps me sane.]
I've heard that some women can't stand their husbands when they're pregnant. Not this woman. As independent as I think I am. As strong. As determined. As tenacious and scrappy. I'm afraid I'd be a tragic mess without Joe. I don't tell him enough. How happy I am that I married him. That I chose to have a baby with him. That he chose to marry me. Have a baby with me. How grateful I am for his unconditional love. Because believe me, there are moments when I wouldn't love me. But he does. And he tells me. Over and over. How grateful I am for his kindness. His compliments. That he tells me I'm beautiful. Even as I get bigger and crankier and dismiss every ounce of his flattery and crinkle my nose at the mention of beauty. Still he tells me I'm beautiful. And in moments of solitude, I think of that. And in moments of frustration, I think of that. And I think Damn girl, you're lucky to be so loved. And I think about my son. How lucky he is to have a father who sets his head on my stomach and says "Hello in there. How you doing? If you can hear me, kick me in the face. It's the only time I'll allow it, so do it while you can."