When my husband and I got married, we chose this poem (by Hovis Presley) to be read during the ceremony. And my goodness, I don't think either of us quite realised quite how important the content of that poem would be during the coming years, as we became parents.
Without my husband by my side during our first three years of parenthood, I have no idea where I'd be. With Father's Day around the corner, it's time I said thank you. Thank you for so many things.
- For understanding my body was going a little crazy in pregnancy. For always being on hand to nip out for Gaviscon. For not minding being asked to pop out of the office to buy constipation remedies. For sleeping in the spare room or on the sofa during the last few days/weeks because I couldn't get comfortable. For comforting me when I cried about silly things because my hormones were going mad. For asking the questions I hadn't thought of during appointments with the midwife. For listening to accounts of my crazy pregnancy dreams & not laughing (much). For understanding my immediate need for a Slush puppy.
- You were a brilliant birthing partner. You always understood my fear of labour, and you did everything you could to alleviate that. You had just the right level of humour and care to get me through childbirth. Thank you for not fainting at the sight of blood (even when it splattered across the midwife's face). You were always as involved as you could be from the off. You whipped off your top and had skin to skin with our babies both times as quick as I did. You listened as intently as me when the lovely midwives explained how to change a nappy. You helped and adjusted the baby on my breast as we tried to get the right latch. You stayed in the hospital with me as long as you possibly could, till the midwifes eventually kicked you out. And when you left I cried and you cried.
- Breastfeeding didn't work out for me. You knew how this broke my heart. You did everything you could to make it better. You researched. You did everything possible to try and make it better. But ultimately, you made me realise I could still be a brilliant mum and it was ok. You recognised my guilt and pain and you made me realise that in the grand scheme of things it wasn't important. I could see how cross you were that I'd gone through this and no one had prepared us for the possibility.
- When we discovered we were going to have another baby when our first was just 3 months old you were as scared as me, but your first words were “it's going to be OK Sal, it will be fine”. I knew I had your 100% support and it made everything ok. We would cope and we would love those babies. And that's exactly what we've done.
- Possibly the one thing I can't thank you for enough, dear husband, is your night time brilliance with those babies. You have jiggled, paced, cuddled, swung, held and comforted those babies at every hour of the night. For hours and hours and hours. Just imagine how many hours we've clocked up pacing the floor with babies, dear husband?! Oh my goodness. And yes, we complained. My god we complained to each other. But you NEVER suggested I should do more because I wasn't technically “working” or because I'm their mum. Not once. You are the most patient man alive. When I felt I was going INSANE pacing the carpet with those babies you were gentle and calm. I still have no idea how you did it. Our girls still call for us both in the night. For a long time you were the only one that could comfort our darling Ruby. That's because you were always there for her. Your ability to cope under severe sleep deprivation still astounds me. I will never be able to thank you enough! It always makes me think of this little poem that I saw in the paper
- My husband the feminist. You make me believe I can be whatever I want to be, and you have exactly the same attitude with our girls. You are the one that pushed me when I said I wanted to start my own business. You are the one that encourages me to go for it. And do you know what? Our girls see that. They already see that. And they know you feel the same about them. You encourage them to do everything they show an interest in. You will happily get your nails painted by them, and buy them toy trucks and lorries too. You are determined that their gender will not define them. I am so proud of your attitude and I am so happy that they have such a beautiful and kind, but quietly fierce and ambitious soul as their role model.
- My rock during PND. You knew I was falling apart at the seams even when I couldn't see if myself. You knew that, and had to cope with that, whilst having to deal with work and 2 non sleeping babies as well. You remained calm. You comforted me. When you saw me going to dangerous places, doing crazy things like screaming into pillows, you never once made me feel like I was mad. You gently persuaded me that we needed to seek help. Always “we”, never “you”. You comforted me and reassured me. You made me realise I was still a good mum. It scares me to think of what would have happened without you. I was close to becoming really poorly, and without you, I would have been. You helped cure me.
- For loving the kids completely and entirely, and for loving me too. You have loved me through everything. Through spinal blocks and the first poo after labour, and the breast pumps and the crying, the sitting on doughnut cushions, the ringing of 111 at 4am, the breaking down at the doctors, the tears and stress of blood tests and the “I'm a crap mum, I cannot do this”. The hysterical laughter at 2am when they're both up AGAIN. The desperation of “let's drive her in the car and see if that makes her sleep”. The boiling hot summers of jiggling babies to sleep. The books on “how to get a baby to sleep”. The hand, foot and mouth. The slapped cheek. The chicken pox in pregnancy. The going to work on the train after literally 40 minutes sleep. The punching of the walls and the near loss of your wife's sanity. Through all of that (and so much more) you have loved me. And I'm so very very grateful. I didn't think it was possible to love you more than I did when I married you. I was wrong. Happy Father's Day Paul Edward Bunkham.