Honest Confessions from My Husband in the First Trimester

This is only what I imagine my husband is thinking, what I believe he would confess as I grow our third child during the first trimester. We’ve been here before, after all. And I know we can do it again. 


I’ve kissed her cheeks two times now. It’s pushing the time I need to head out the door, and she’s still peacefully sleeping, despite our son crawling over the two of us hours ago. Sleep has been hard to come by for her, and she desperately needs it. I just want to be able to leave her there, lying in the sheets. But we have two children on the outside that need her just as much as the one she is growing on the inside. The kids are all set with their requested breakfast choice. Finally, she makes her way down to the sofa in a state that is almost considered awake, and I’m heading out the door with a kiss goodbye. 

My Honest Confession?

I come home and she’s right where I left her on the sofa, and possibly has been most of the day. I know the first trimester is the toughest for her. Between the nausea and the exhaustion, she isn’t left with much energy to keep up with the mundane tasks of life. It is no secret that I’ve been doing the majority of work to keep things running around the house. It might not be the smoothest sailing, but I’m just trying to do my part of this pregnancy. These first few weeks of pregnancy are hard for me too, despite my super dad and husband efforts. 

The first trimester is the most unpredictable. One moment she’s content and the next she’s in a state of hunger, and we must get food ASAP. I’m lucky that usually, a food craving can solve her pregnancy hangry-ness. I’ve gone through great lengths to satisfy a craving. Red meat cravings at 9:30 at night and I’m at the steakhouse by 9:45 to pick up the to-go order.

During her first pregnancy on Valentine’s Day, I took her to three different restaurants to get three different types of food. All because of her cravings. I knew it was a small way to help her feel better in the moment. I hope that my wife can see my effort to help her make her way through these nine months. That every food run I make, I make because I love her and that child she is growing. Even when I didn’t get the exact thing she had her heart set on and then, inevitably started crying. 

Growing a child inside of me is impossible, and I’ll never truly know the sacrifice her body is making. I do however know the sacrifice of giving. In her eyes, I see the desire for a foot rub, and the begging is coming. Of course I’ll rub them, even though I’ve given a lot more than I have received. I do it because I want to help, and actually, that woman missed her calling as a saleswoman. I literally can’t say no. Serving her in this journey is all I want to do and I hope she sees that above all else. 

I don’t complain, and I don’t envy her. I know this is, as women say, is a season. Eventually, she will be past this first trimester and move onto to other pregnancy struggles that I’ll attempt to help her through.

We’ve been here before, and I know we can do it again. 

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