Pickin' a P.I.C.

A lot of people look at people they are dating or are in relationships with and often think to themselves, "Can I really see myself spending the rest of my life with this person?"  If the answer is yes, then congratulations.  But what I have quickly learned is this particular question is not as easy at it seems.

Being married is more than just walking down the aisle and living happily ever after.  There are bills, chores, deciding what to eat, balancing your individual freedom and working at your ever evolving relationship, and worst of all...sharing a bathroom.  There's a lot to factor in when deciding who you are going to marry.  Can you deal with them getting liver spots?  Getting so comfortable that they release wretched smells from all parts of the body every 5 minutes?  Constantly have food stuck in their teeth? It all seems like small trivial stuff, but it definitely matters in the end.

One question you should definitely ask BEFORE you get married/committed, especially if its something you want, is if this person would be a good parent.  Not just if you're willing to have kids with them, but that they will provide your children with whatever they need under any circumstances.  From conversations I have had with other people, they usually wait until after they've made their vows to worry about this.  But it is sooooooo important to do ASAP.

I kind of lucked out.  When my husband and I first got together, I knew he REALLY wanted kids; I was pretty much indifferent.  I had never been the type of girl who felt the need to get married or have kids.  Whatever happened, happened.  But the more time I spent with him, the more I got excited about the idea of being a wife and a mother.  Now let me make this clear, I still don't want to have kids for the sake of having kids.  There is no maternal clock screaming at me, telling me that I need to start popping out babies.  I want a child with my husband because I know that we will make an amazing team raising our kids.  He is gonna be my perfect partner in crime.  Or as the "kids" call it these days, my P.I.C.

Let me tell ya one thing, being pregnant is the ultimate test to see if you have a good P.I.C.  As women we go through crappy things in general.  Puberty is hell (where did those boobs come from!).  Having your period sucks.  Having to shave is awful.  It's just an annoying gender, but not one I would trade for the world.  But out of all the things I have experienced as a woman, being pregnant is one of the most annoying.  And I'm only 8 weeks.

Luckily, I have a fantastic P.I.C.  My husband has put me in a constant state of awe of how "there" he is.  He is so with it.  Sometimes annoyingly so, but still.  The man loves me, and he loves his future child.  He's carrying stuff.  Cleaning the litter.  Food shopping.  Dropping off my laundry.  You name it, he's doing it.

The best example of his awesomeness as a P.I.C. was this pass Sunday.  The last few weeks I had been experiencing a crazy amount of nausea.  So much so that I lost 9 pounds in two weeks because I couldn't really eat anything.  I could barely move.  And there was a lot of crying involved.  Sunday found my nausea at an all time high.

I knew something wasn't right first thing in the morning.  It was way more intense than usual.  I tried to spend time with a friend, but had to end up rushing home because a huge wave of death passed over me.  I spent the rest of the night on the couch with my husband, catering to my every need.  At around midnight I finally got in the shower to get ready for bed.  All of the sudden, my body started convulsing.  I thought I was going to go into my usual dry heaving routine that I had been experiencing the week before, but my tummy had different plans.

All of the sudden I could feel the prunes I had just ate a couple of hours ago start to come up.  And before I could even have any kind of reaction, everything decided to make a reappearance.  I'm standing there, butt naked in the shower, water still running on me, simultaneously crying and puking like I had never puked before.  The worst part was that I had those prunes, so it literally looked like I was puking old people poop out of my mouth.

My darling husband rubbed my back the whole time.  After I was done he wrapped me in a towel, sent me to my room, and continued to clean up my mess in the shower.  My knight in shining yellow cleaning gloves.  After he was done, he brought me water, a snack, my progesterone, and helped me go to sleep.  The best part about it?  That man did not grimace once.  He was practically giddy to help me.  I could tell, down to the bottom of his core, he WANTED to help me.  No obligation.  No annoyance.  He wanted nothing more than to see his baby momma happy and comfortable.  It was a gross yet wonderful moment.

So although that Sunday was completely awful and I will probably never forget it, I am so grateful for it.  My man's true colors shined bright that night.  And I am so glad I found him.  He's the best P.I.C. a gal could ever ask for.