Last night was a repeat of what is starting to become 'the norm' in our household. Riley wakes up just after the point that we go to bed and cries ... and then screams. We rock her, reassure her ... make sure she isn't hungry ... make sure she has a fresh diaper ... and then soothe her back to sleep and lay her back in her crib. The second any part of her feels the crib mattress, or even the descent into the crib, she begins to kick and scream and the whole process starts over. Vicious cycle. Having a baby who has been a wonderful sleeper overall, this rocks our world a tad. It's only happened three times in the past four nights, but that means we're sailing at a 75% chance of a restless night ... not a percentage I like. Kevin and I can survive it, but I sit in the rocking chair and just feel so badly for my baby. If this is indeed attributed to the two new upper teeth she is slowly sprouting, I just want to take the pain for her. And regardless, I want her to sleep peacefully - she needs it.
So last night, as Kevin finally retreated to the living room couch at 1:30am to try to get some sleep himself while holding on to Riley so that I could get some sleep in our bed, I thought to myself for probably the thousandth time ... "My husband is an amazing dad. An incredible dad. An amazingly incredible dad."
He loves Riley with every ounce of his body and soul and I couldn't ask for anything more than that. I have to remind myself how lucky I am to have him. Sometimes he asks me to wait back about 15 seconds when we go to pick her up after work so that she can run into his arms for a moment. Sure, I wouldn't complain to always be the one whose arms she is running to, but I'm lucky to have a husband who wants his daughter to run into his arms. I'm lucky to have a husband who wants to be the one to give her the bedtime bottle and read her book to her. I'm lucky to have a husband who sports swimming trunks into the bathroom so that he can play in the tub with her from time to time.
I'm lucky that a frequent morning bicker between the two of us is who is going to get the pleasure of carrying Riley into Grandma and Grandpa's house ... not who has to carry her in. I am lucky that I have a daughter who is loved equally by her daddy and myself. I'm lucky. I'm blessed. I'm so in love.
Sure - there are times that I grow frustrated. Maybe he isn't sure where something of Riley's is that I ask for; maybe he dresses her in something that isn't season-appropriate. Sometimes I've been frustrated at bedtime as I am re-diapering Riley because a regular diaper was put on her instead of the extra protection diaper ... but last night, as I laid in bed and listened to her cries turn to soft jibber jabber as they both fell to sleep, I thought about those re-diaperings. And I smiled to myself. I'm lucky to have a husband who even changes diapers. And dresses his daughter. And is an active parent. Period.
My husband is an amazing dad. An incredible dad. An amazingly incredible dad.