There is nothing quite like being heavily pregnant and woefully dependent upon your partner to make you appreciate every little thing about them. As much as I whine about how much I hate being pregnant, I know that I am not the only one suffering for forty weeks.
When I was nauseated to the point of gagging just at the mere thought of chicken, Zach took over the weekly menu planning, almost all the dinner cooking and much of the grocery shopping. As my belly got bigger, my back and hips achier and the Braxton-Hicks contractions more frequent, Zach took over pretty much all the grocery shopping to save my body the additional strain.
He leaves work in the middle of the day to meet me at the doctor’s clinic for my appointments. He is there to ask questions and hear how things are going, as well as to corral the girls so that I can interact with my doctor uninterrupted.
Throughout the pregnancy, Zach has gently encouraged me to eat as well as I can, never judging when he catches me indulging in obscene amounts of junk food.
Without complaining, he has conceded two-thirds of the bed to me and my giant pregnancy pillow. Still, he allows me to put my icy cold feet up against his legs at four in the morning to warm them after I’ve gotten up for a snack.
When an intense contraction hits, he is there to hold me up, squeeze my hand or place just the right pressure on my hips.
He does all this without my needing to ask. So many times, he comes home from a long day at work and, instead of seeking out time for his own projects and peace of mind, jumps straight into playing with the girls and finding ways to help me. In so many ways, every day, Zach shows me so much love and support. I know I am extra hormonal right now, but I also know that the intense love I feel for this man is more than a product of this pregnancy. His patience and devotion are clear as day and I would be insane not to be head over heels for him.
It also doesn’t hurt that he is incredibly good looking.
I definitely married the best man in the world.