There are certain times in life when you see more clearly the person you married. Circumstances are such that you are provided with an unusual glimpse into what he or she is made of. Life throws a curve ball and suddenly what you thought you saw in the future up ahead, isn't so clear...if you can see up ahead at all.
Our curve ball left the pitcher's mitt around the beginning of June, and has yet to leave the park. At first I had my eye on the ball, certain I could whack it out of there. But over time, the curve became more extreme, harder to follow, and eventually, I lost sight of it altogether. I could swing my bat wildly, but never come close to the ball. And then I just quit swinging. I couldn't see the ball and as far as I could tell, there was no hope of getting that wild pitch out of my game. I was stuck with it.
It matters little what my analogy refers to. It really could be anything, but in this case it's medical. The baby is fine, but mama, here, has had some pretty rough weeks. No details necessary (or given, either). It's enough to know my curve ball just happened to hurt a lot.
We are so blessed that Michael has the summers off and as I reflect on decisions that were made months ago, I'm so grateful he didn't take on a summer job. God knew we'd need him here. During this past week in particular, he had no choice but to become Mr. Mom. And he's a lot better than the guy in the song!
As I lay upstairs in the evenings, I could hear shouts of laughter and giggling, followed by Michael's taunting and over dramatic "Ugh". I knew there was a rousing game of 'knock daddy over' underway - probably surrounded by every pillow, blanket, and couch cushion in whole downstairs! Later I'd hear the freezer door open and he'd pass out Popsicles or bowls of ice cream. Some nights I heard loud obnoxious noises coming from the living room, which I later found out were 'monsters'.
During the day Michael took the kids to the park or out to play in the yard. He filled the swimming pool for them and moderated their fights. When we needed groceries, he went...taking both kids with him. He made breakfast, lunch, and dinner, then cleaned up from all three. He's been managing our ant problem until the bug guys come next week. He's done nearly all the laundry and made sure the kids got a few baths. He put them down for naps, and did bedtime routines on his own (something I dread by the end of one long day alone, let alone four or five.).
One night I eased downstairs to be on the couch and I listened as he and the kids took turns putting on a puppet show with the theater I made some time ago. Brenna's stories were funny, and Michael egged her on. Then he gently drew her to a close so Daniel could have a turn.
All of this has been in addition to taking care of me and essentially being available whenever I needed him. And since curve balls have no sense of time and know not day or night, he really hasn't had a whole lot of sleep either.
On Friday, my ball came back into sight. Just as I geared up to smack it hard out of my life, it got a little shaky and very hard to predict. I swung anyway. I know I hit it. Whether it was hard enough, far enough, or just a pop-up into the clouds destined to return at any moment, I don't know yet.
But what I do know, is that I married well. I married a life partner, who meant what he said when he vowed, "in sickness and in health". Someone who tried to be everything to everyone this week, even if it wore him out. I'm thankful for his patience and his attentiveness to my pain. I'm ever so grateful that he's such an active and involved dad. I caught a clearer view of my husband this week and I love him so much more.
I only hope that if ever the game switches batters, I'd be half the support team he's been for me.