October 19, 2011
This past Monday, we had a family outing to the Doctor's office. Both Rafaella and I had appointments to make sure our junk was working right. And when I say family outing, I mean it. Baby in carrier and I were escorted by my husband, mother, and grandmother.
Since the birth of Rafa, should I say since the conception of our daughter, Mike has been on the verge of breaking into tears as easily as a Broadway musical breaks into song, but since the birth, the tears come for almost anything. If she hiccups, if Jersey smells her feet, if she's wearing a hat... When she grows up, she'll see the pictures of the night she was born with me smiling and her dad's eyes red and watery.
When we got to the doctor's office, for a reason I can't remember now, he teared up and our doctor, Dr. Fernandez, after slightly making fun of him said to me, "Oh, you lucked out."
I know.
I knew when we started dating. I knew when we got engaged. I knew when we got married that there is no one sweeter, better, more loving, more attentive, more amazing, more "in it" than Mike. Where many husbands/dads leave it to their partners to handle things, he has been through every step of everything with me. From planning our engagement party, to pulling off our wedding. From being at every doctor's appointment to sanitizing nipple shields and giving me foot rubs during feedings - he is the most stand up, supportive man that exists.
In the case that I don't say it enough, Meeks, I love you and I know that "I lucked out".
