Another one of the "it's a given" sort of posts, but I am so thankful for Tarzan.
For his determination to do good, for his work ethic, for his effort to be a good, fair bishop, for his talents, for his love of Cheeta and of me, for his efforts and plans to be a good father, for his desire to be a better person everyday.
Even though it drives me crazy at the time, he keeps me grounded and makes me laugh. He doesn't let me get hung up on the details, as I am wont to do. He has a much larger "big picture" view than I do and I appreciate that.
He was solid throughout the pregnancy, coming to all appointments he could, being part of the conversations and discussions, supporting me and what I wanted to have happen.
When it came to labor and delivery I don't think he left my side once. I don't know how he avoided needing the bathroom for 30 hours, but whenever I needed him, he was there. There to hold my hand, to talk to the doctor, to report how I was feeling, to sign the paperwork, to fetch a nurse, or some water, to hold the baby and to tell me what was going on.
It hasn't stopped since we came home. He's happy to change a diaper, get up in the night, hold Cheeta and hug me too. He always asks how the day, or night, went. If there's anything he can get or do to make a situation easier. Some things he volunteers or gets, just because.
Whatever I need is okay and he'll move heaven and earth to get it. It helps me be a little more humble knowing that he's there.
He was and is amazing:
This is me and my eternal companion.