I met a man.
I fell in love with that man.
We had a baby.
When the baby was in my belly, my man took care of me.
He drove me home when I was in tears because it hurt.
He did a 10pm dash to the pharmacy for pain killers.
He gave me a hug when I said “I just want my body back”.
He didn’t necessarily buy everything on my Amazon list but took care of me he did.
Then when my bubba came.
The nurses said to me “Why is your husband sleeping? They all sleep when the mum is up all night.”
I didn’t tell her he was up at every feed, up at every cry.

The health nurse said, “Why are you here? Your wife should be here.” 

When he showed up for the first weigh in. He showed up for me, because I was too scared to be alone in a car with my crying bubba.

Then one day he was doing the diaper change and when he stepped away, I took over. Just like that. I told him he wasn’t doing it right. 

Because in that moment, I thought I knew better.

My way was better.


In a sea of women that just can’t let a Dad do his thing – I promise to let him be the one to take over. 

I won’t backseat drive this dad and I won’t nitpick when he forgets the wipes or uses the pacifier.

Because I want him to be more than “around”.