You are such a caring and loving husband, so funny and so simplistic. It means a lot to me that you stayed up late last night to finish staining the deck. (I hope that when you wake up this morning and find out that it rained like a mother last night, you can still be proud of that fact that 1) you did this for me and 2) it’s still an improvement over how the deck looked before.)
I’m so sorry for the stress you’ve felt this week. I feel completely responsible. If I had not totally freaked out last week over agendas, timing, to-do lists, etc., then you probably would have been able to enjoy yourself so much more. In this final stretch of pregnancy, I’m going to really try to bask in the wonder of what’s left of it and not let external factors affect my joy. In these remaining days, I’d like to build you up, not push, push, push you to check off every detail that needs to be fulfilled in order for our family to start out on “the right track.”
I want to spend more time with you. I want to enjoy more date nights, more game nights, more Bible reading, more silly banter with you. I want to nourish the connection that we have and not deplete your energy with my persistent requests (when I really ought to be helping you store up that energy for the future). Then – then! – more than staining the deck and filing your paperwork, will we be starting out on the “right track.”
There’s still a list that will remain in the back of my head (organizing, purging, thank you notes, overall nesting), but that’s my list. I’m sorry for having forced it to be your list and I apologize in advance if I go back to the crazy place where I try to pass it off to you again.
Just keep supporting me like you have been, telling me how beautiful I am, going on and on about my “big, magic eyes” and being a diligent and reliable administrator at our church. You ARE doing enough. And you know what? So am I. I guess that when it feels like we aren’t doing enough, perhaps rather than pushing ourselves to do more (and consequently depleting all enjoyment of life) and doling out every precious hour we have left in a day, we – as a couple – need to figure out when and where to say, “No.”
You’re going to be a great dad. If Bennett came tomorrow and there were dishes in the sink, our bed was unmade, our deck was splotchy and all of our unnecessary junk had yet to be toted off to Goodwill, he’d still be coming home to a loving, protective family. Bennett wouldn’t know the difference between good, better and best as long as he was well cared for; and you already DO care.
My hope is to look back on these remaining weeks of pregnancy (however many they turn out to be) and recall them as a time of lighthearted joy and anticipation. We only get to do this once, and I have great potential to ruin a moment with insignificant chores and worry. Please keep me out of the darker places and, more importantly, don’t let me suck you into that. God’s been faithful through this entire journey to provide for our every need and I trust He will continue to do so in spite of my best efforts to take the reins.
I love you!