We were in the waiting room for two and a bit hours and we got called in to see the anaesthetist, nurse and surgeon. Again, no question that I was the parent who went in.
Then it came to the time to take the little guy through to be anaesthetised, I went with him.
My husband did take the last big medical thing. When the little guy was born he had to be resuscitated and was whisked away to another room. My husband was asked to go and ‘connect with him’ so he sang to him whilst he was being resuscitated. I, on the other hand, was getting stitches. Lucky me. So, we joked it was my turn this time round.
I would have found it incredibly difficult to be on my own in that waiting room but equally I’m sure that my husband would have liked to be the one to go in.There is something within us that sometimes makes us ‘want our Mums’. If I’m sick, or having a bad day then I often want to talk to my Mum. And, as a Mum I now want to be there in those moments for my little one. But there is no reason really why is has to be me over my husband.
Dads get a raw deal.
I am so proud of the Dad my husband is. He is incredibly capable, he can easily do all the things I do with our little guy (sometimes better…sssh! Don’t tell him I said that). I am so grateful for his generosity and willingness to step out of the way for me to ‘mother’. When I’m tearing my hair out at my angry toddler I am grateful for my husband who goes to work full-time and allows me to get all the happy moments too. I wouldn’t want to do it. (Obviously in the actual moment I’m not particularly grateful but overall I am!)