we’re sitting on the couch together, watching some show or another, as we do so often now. you stay in a lot when only one of you can drink and the other one has trouble staying up past 11:00pm. it’s just more fun that way, plus you can wear your soft clothes. so we’re watching our show, relaxing after a long day of cleaning the house (me) and working on the nursery (him). the nesting has started with a vengeance in both of us, with every inch of the house getting scrubbed and dusted and polished. it’s our way of controlling the very uncontrollable parts of this new chapter that’s speeding into our lives.
all of a sudden, he puts his hand on my belly. or as we call it in this household, the baby. my belly has ceased to be my belly, it’s now the baby’s house.
he does this a lot, but for some reason it makes me stop and notice this time. so much has changed in just a few short months.
***
in the beginning, me being pregnant was nothing but an abstract for him. it was something that could only be proven by two pink lines on a stick, and a couple blurry black and white pictures of what the ultrasound tech assured us was our baby. he had to take me at my word that the reason i couldn’t stay up past nine was because there was a little human inside me taking all my energy to grow its fingers and toes and eyelashes.
none of this was “real” to him. the idea of being a dad was just that – an idea. a hypothetical role to be filled at some point in the future, but not just yet. then one day, he put his hand on my belly and he felt our baby move. and that’s when the pieces of the puzzle started to fit. this was no longer just an idea, something that was going to happen, but hadn’t yet. this was something that was actively happening, now, right in front of him. it ceased to exist in the abstract and became real.
***
now the hand on my belly is a nightly tradition. he plays with baby z. to see if he can get a response back to his pokes. he lays his head on my belly to talk to the little one, mostly telling baby how he’s going to be the fun parent and to always listen to him (baby usually gives him a little punch to the face to set him straight, don’t worry). goodnights always include me and the baby.
and on this night, for whatever reason (maybe all the nesting), it hits me that this is him embracing fatherhood. he knows he’s a dad now, and even though that little boy or girl is still tucked away in my belly, this is his way of spending quality time with them. as endearing as they are, all the nursery prep and diaper lessons in the world can’t compare with how wonderful it is to see that hand on my belly.
i love this man more than words can describe, and to think that i will love him even more when we get to meet our baby? that takes my breath away. so i smile, put my hand over his, and let the moment wash over me.
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