So, as you can see from the past few days, we've all asked our wives, our better halves, the mothers of our children, to extol our virtues as fathers...as Dads. I am no different. When I asked Mrs. Big Dubya to drop some knowledge, to put into words why I am the bestest Dad on the face of the earth, she asked, "Well, what am I supposed to write about?" "Tell them how funny I am and keep our kids constantly entertained. You know. Things like that." "But, you're not funny." ::blink, blink:: "Um...well then tell them something sappy that shows I'm the strong/sensitive type." "But...." "Just tell them something so I don't look like such a schlub."
So, here's Mrs. Big Dubya's "he's-not-a-schlub" entry. And for the record, I am to funny.
Growing up, I knew my Dad loved me. But, how did I know?
Well, I knew he loved me because my mother told me that he did – and that was enough.
The Big Dubya is different from my Dad,
and I don’t mean different in the better or worse sense, I just mean
different - not the same - you catch my drift, right? I decided early
on that my husband would be a good partner in marriage and I also knew he’d be
a good dad – but man, back then I had no idea the transformation that
would take place when the time came for us to become parents.
Let me go back a little – give you some
history. See, we were thrust into parenthood rather abruptly. Yes, of
course we knew we were expecting a baby – a baby that was most
certainly wanted and planned for. But a baby that was born
unexpectedly early and with some medical issues? Yeah, we were naïve –
we simply never contemplated that possibility…..really, who does?
So, that fateful night – I got sick. Really sick. The big guy convinced me that we needed to go to the hospital. I
thought he was being an alarmist, but I was in no condition to argue. He
called the doctor himself when I refused. By all accounts, his
insistence probably saved my life that night – mine and our son’s. 88
minutes (give or take) after leaving the house, we were the proud,
albeit terrified, parents of a beautiful and tiny baby boy – and I was
in stable, but guarded condition.
The days and weeks that followed were
hard – hard on me because I was in one hospital recovering from an
emergency c-section and a nasty case of HELLP syndrome, while our li'l man was in another hospital (one with a world-class NICU) trying
to get some bradycardia and apnea spells under control. That time was
also difficult for The Big Dubya because he was torn between the two
locations – not wanting to leave either of us alone - yet, he never
complained. He traveled back ‘n forth several times a day to ensure we
were both hearing, in person, what we needed to hear – that we were
loved. He got answers to all my questions and even took a video of the li'l guy in his incubator and brought it to the hospital so that I
could see him. It was probably the most emotional week of my life. Instinctively he knew that I needed to see my baby, needed to touch
him, hold him and tell him that I loved him and I couldn’t – and I that
I was worried that he wouldn’t know that he wasn’t all alone in the
world….the video helped so much. Seeing him and hearing Dubya’s voice
telling him we loved him. During that first week I saw a
transformation – from the guy I thought would make a good Dad some day,
to a great Dad.
When I was finally discharged we went
to the NICU – it was hard for me because Daddy and son already had a bond – a
level of comfort, something I was going to have to establish.
For that first week the li'l Dubya knew his mother loved him. But how did he know?
Well, he knew I loved him because his daddy told him that I did – and that was enough.
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