So you THINK you are a dad?

Earlier in the week I read a post by Living as a Bipolar Mother on Why Are Dads Allowed to Be Douches?  I was (and still am) rather drugged.  It didn't sink in what she was really saying.  Honestly, the first time I read her post, I do believe I misread it.  Like I said, it was probably the drugs reading and/or lack of sleep.

As I sit here in the weeeee frigging hours of the day, I'm reading blogs.  Re-reading blogs that I've read earlier in the week.  And even though, I'm still significantly drugged, I got a 3 hour spurt of sleep.  I may have woke up dying of pain...but 3 hours is gold when it comes to sleep.

You know....my husband was much like hers.  He still is a pretty decent dad.  And husband.  Sure we have our issues.  Sure there are things that need to be addressed both on parenting aspect and marriage aspect.  

We never had an agreement about who got up when in the middle of the night.  It was just something that he did.  Always. It wasn't because I worked early hours and needed my sleep.  It wasn't because of anything special.

Well, actually it was because of something special.

He is a Dad.

And that is what Dad's do.

They change shit-filled diapers.
They get up in the middle of the night when their babies wake up.
They feed their babies at all hours of the day.

There is nothing out of the ordinary...or is there?

I have friends whose husbands have never once changed a shitty diaper or picked up a bottle to feed their child(ren).  And to that I say "So you THINK you are a dad, huh?"

Bullshit.  Plain. Cut. Simple and Dry.

It is no secret that a majority of my mental health/depression issues surfaced after the birth of my daughter and heightened to an all new level and severity 3 yrs later when our youngest was born.  I can not even begin to imagine what life would have been like in those early years if my husband didn't do what he did.

Just a few of the things he did in those early weeks, months and years....

When our oldest was born...he would get up w/her every night.  Bring her to me to feed.  She refused a bottle or anything close to it.  I would remain asleep.  He would prop her up and have her latch on for her nighttime feedings.  He would then lay next to both of us...rubbing our backs and saying sweet nothings to both of us.  Attempting to wake me most nights worked.  Other nights not so much and I would have no memory of either one of them being up at night.  He would change her, her clothes and bed sheets if need be (she was very explosive when it came to her bowel movements at night).

When our youngest was born...he would do the same thing.

I cringe when I hear of men who refuse to get up at night (I TOTALLY GET THAT SOME MEN CANT because of work obligations and such), refuse to change a shit-filled diaper (and they better not tell me to my face they won't do it bc I may just shit on them...trust me the last man that said something to the effect...yeah he was regretting EVER talking to me), refuse to feed their babies....or any of that stuff.  Well that is for the birds and quite honestly I think you are the epitome of fatherhood.