Need dinner in a hurry? You’re covered with this butternut squash spinach and tortellini soup that is done in less than 30 minuets!!
Dish Count :: 1 Cutting Board, 1 Vegetable Peeler, 1 Stockpot
It’s getting real. My best friend is having a baby in a month, and I got to meet her doula last night making this whole even smack me in the face with oh-holy-crap-it’s-happening. You’d think it would be mama-to-be that is feeling this, but dang she’s calm as a cucumber and I sat there like a dear in the headlights about what my role that day will be. I’ll be there, and hopefully not pass out. And I’ll have a camera. But not having been through a birth, my own or anyone else’s I’m pretty much green to this whole thing.
I mean, I spent 5 years working a large animal hospital, so it’s not like I’m unfamiliar or uncomfortable with birth, odd sounds, cranky, 1,500 pound animals, or blood. But I know it’s different with a human. And her husband is determined to get me to watch a pre-birth video to make sure I know what I’m in for. Bless.
It’s becoming a running joke that he brings it up every time I see him. “When are you going to watch the video?”. As a woman, I think I’m pretty familiar with the event of birth, and yes, I know it’s not like TV.
But his chest puffing protective side has most definitely come out and he wants me to be the best friend, and presence I can be while my (as the doula calls it) HPL – hetero life partner – and best friend goes through a transformative and difficult experience. But the mansplaining of a women’s experience just gets me every time. So next week, it’s my mission – to take a six pack of beer over, sit with him, humor him, and give the father to be the confidence and assurance that I’m equally as prepared for what is going down in less than a month. Because right now, I’m more worried about him than I am about her.
She’s a champion, always has been, and on that day when the newest addition to the family, and he can be assured that no one will need to pick me off the floor. They’ll just need to bring me a truck load of tissue, because I’ll be a puddle of joy.