Lydia is a Super Mom, because she convinced me to become a Dad.
My whole life, I didn’t want kids. I saw them as money and time drains. This was all rooted in personal issues and a childhood not worth going into, but when Lydia and I started dating we seemed to be on the same page.
“Do you want kids?”
Unfortunately, that wonderful power known as “The Biological Clock” soon started ticking, and Lydia realized the only reason she had never wanted kids was because she hadn’t been in a loving relationship yet. Once she discovered the joy of a union devoid of drama and nonsense, she knew the only thing that could make a coupling better, was a family.
So, before we were married, she told me: “This is a deal breaker. No babies, no me.”
I was intimidated, but ensnared. I put all my previous fears on hold because I understood that if I let her slip through my fingers I would never find love again.
Sadly, it turned out making babies wasn’t as easy for us as it might be for your average high school student. Lydia couldn’t ovulate; she could make the eggs, but they wouldn’t travel down the fallopian tube to be fertilized. Infertility was a struggle for several years of our marriage, and through it all Lydia was stalwart. Through the struggles, she had her eye on the prize, and never gave up.
Our daughter, Hillary, was born two-and-a-half years ago. Our son Truman followed two years later.
There is a philosophy that argues that when you earn something, rather than having it given to you, you respect your accomplishment more.
Lydia respects her position as a Mother. She fought for it every step of the way, and shines bright in the role.
I travel for work, and Lydia takes on “Single” Mom duties full-force every weekend I am away. Feeding, bathing, clothing… Given that our daughter is two-and-a-half, it’s like dealing with a mini-diva. Irrational demands, specific hairstyle instructions—“NO MOMMY! TWO PONYTAILS, NOT THREE!”—a mood that changes on a whim… The only difference between our daughter and Jennifer Lopez is that our daughter wears Elmo panties, and is a decent singer.
On top of that, our son refuses to sleep for more than two hours a stretch. Lydia gets up with him every single time. Breastfeeding is that important to her. When he refused to take solids—and by “refused” I mean he swung his left hook at any spoon anywhere near his face—Lydia kept at it. Where I had given up long ago, Lydia persisted, and after weeks of failed attempts finally got Truman to chow down on solid food.
Little Truman endured seven straight weeks of ear infections before he was able to get tubes. Once again, Daddy was off wandering for work, so Lydia attended the minor surgery alone with him. Ever the strong woman, Lydia is constantly taking on all the duties she has to so her kids get whatever it is they need.
Lydia deals with all of the above with the grace of a ballet dancer and patience of a saint.
And, all of the above aside, as stated: she gave me the opportunity to be a father.
I owe her everything for that.
If she hadn’t pushed, I might have never known what it is to be a Dad, and I would be an incomplete person.
They say that behind every good man, is a great woman. I say nonsense. My wife isn’t operating from the shadows; she is front and center, leading by example. Imagine what good she will instill into our children, given she will place her values into them from birth, considering the way she was able to shape me, a grown adult.
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This was written in order to nominate my Mrs. for the title “Super Mom.”
Thanks to all you kind folks who voted for her, she won a pretty awesome prize package.