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Dads Don't Get Enough Credit

It's my husband who is helping me up and down the stairs, in and out of the shower, cooking every meal, washing every dish, helping me up from the sofa, being chief chauffeur, doing all the shopping, handing me Baby Boy when I can't bend and lift, settling the toddler next to me for cuddles whilst trying to mind my scar.

Every so often I feel the need to have a bit of a slush fest on the husband. Generally to let everyone know how amazing he is. But he isn't the only one out there.

The role of the Dad is changing. No longer is it the whole stereotype of the pacing outside the labour room as the woman "gets on with things". No longer is the baby all "women's work". Dad's everywhere are taking a stand and parenting is now a 50/50 partnership in most cases. Dad bloggers are on the rise everywhere championing the Dad movement. And rightly so.

Alongside this - I want to shout out as well. My amazing husband inspired this back in April when our second bundle of joy arrived and we entered the fuzzy phase of life that is know as bringing a newborn home aka "The Newborn Phase".

Dads definitely don't get enough credit in the newborn phase. I mean I know that they physically can't push the baby out or go through the surgery. But still, I think their role is under played.

My husband has been a complete godsend.

Not only was he awake, and supportive, through my whole attempt at labour, all 17 hours of it. Hand holding. Offering not to eat because I couldn't. Worrying about me. Reassuring me. Making sure that I was happy with what was going on, especially with my epidural. Standing up for my rights and wishes. He had spent the time before that running up and down Sheikh Zayed Road settling and reassuring the toddler. Picking up and packing my hospital bag.

Then he had the added worry and stress of another emergency c section. I can't imagine what it's like to see someone you love out of it on drugs, flat out on an operating table, oxygen mask attached. Again, he was amazing. Kept me calm, even when words like rupture floated over the sheet, brought our Baby Boy over to me and introduced us, held my hand, moved Baby Boy off my face which was where he ended up, shouted up and asked people if it was normal for me to be shaking. If it was normal for me to be slightly yellow. Constantly talking to me to keep me awake as my eyes desperately tried to close as they took over an hour to stitch me up. Carried Baby Boy out of the operating theatre and helped me hold him as I tried to breastfeed. Then, as our poor, swollen baby began to have a lack of oxygen from his lips blocking his nose, ran with him at my request as the midwives rubbed him to bring his oxygen levels up. In the bay away from me. When I couldn't move from the spinal Where I could just sit there sobbing. He brought him back into me, and continued to tell me it was OK to feed, it was OK to cry, it was all OK.

Back in my hospital room my blood pressure readings had a hit the roof, but the two deciding factors for that may have been that I pulled all the monitors off myself in an attempt to feed Baby Boy again after our first disastrous attempt, then the cuff was put round my ankle and readings were taken from my leg. My leg which I had started to move again because I was excited to have feeling back. The nurses rushed in and told me I needed to have Magnesium Sulfate to bring my pressure down.

My husband once again, stood my ground for me as I lay bewildered in the bed, as they were getting ready to administer Magnesium Sulfate, which apparently would make me feel horrible. He told the nurses to back off and monitor for another 20 minutes as the readings could have been off. And he did all this holding Baby Boy and containing the toddler terror (who'd arrived at this point).

You know what? He was right, they were wonky readings and I didn't need any extra drugs.

Those hours in hospital he was amazing. Yet everyone focussed on me and how I was doing. True I have had major surgery and I do love a bit of sympathy. But my husband went through the same ordeal without being cut open. Imagine what it must be like to see someone you love lying on that hospital bed. Someone you care for being so out of it their eyes are rolling in their head. Being told that the person you love more than anyone else in the world would have died has the surgery happened 30 minutes later. He most definitely deserves some credit.

And then going home. My poor husband hasn't just got a new baby to help look after. But a toddler too. And a wife who can't do much because of surgery. He is busy looking after all 3 of us.

He is the one who is looking after the toddler terror with limited input from me. Doing every bath time, bedtime, wake up, tantrum, reassurance. He is the only one of us who can pick the toddler up at the moment as I am not allowed too. Thankfully the toddler appears to be in the midst of a massive daddy phase. He is also right in the middle of his terrible two's and attempting to assert his independence over everything, eating, sleeping, napping which is frustrating to deal with to say the least, and again it's all on the husbands shoulders.

It's my husband who is helping me up and down the stairs, in and out of the shower, cooking every meal, washing every dish, helping me up from the sofa, being chief chauffeur, doing all the shopping, handing me Baby Boy when I can't bend and lift, settling the toddler next to me for cuddles whilst trying to mind my scar.

It's my husband who wipes away every tear I shed. Who tells me every day how proud of me he is. Who says to remember that it doesn't matter how Baby Boy got here that we need to focus on the fact that he is alive and safe. That c sections don't make me any less of a woman or whatever notion is going through my head at the time.

It's my husband who does majority of the nappies for Baby Boy, that takes him and burps him, that let's him cuddle with him for an hour between feeds so I can sleep, that wakes up with me in the night to support me with breastfeeding. That stayed awake with me the first night home when Baby Boy did nothing but feed and cuddle from 10pm to 5am and still got up with the toddler the next morning.

Yet again people only ask how I'm doing.

I'm doing amazingly well, but that's because of my husband and all his help.

It's my husband who is holding the whole show together.

And so my message to my husband, and to all Dad's out there, you don't get enough credit, you too help with the sleepless nights, the existing chores, the other children, the poor broken mum. To you all I say thank you.

And to my husband.

I say, I couldn't do if without you, I am so grateful and appreciative even if I don't tell you often enough.

I love you xx

This post originally appeared on Life with Baby Kicks

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