The Magic Coffee Table
He has many names:
The Curve-Breaker (coined by our group because he is so amazing at pretty much everything)
AirWolf (remember that 80s high-tech helicopter show?)
And in the last two weeks, a new one has emerged:
The Magic Coffee Table
Yes, you read right. The Magic Coffee Table. Just check out this short video and you will start to understand why:
Having lost three times the normal amount of blood during delivery along with the typical wears and tears (literally; ouch) that occur with a natural birth, I was pretty wrecked and exhausted once Hugo joined us. The second we arrived home to Hurd House, the day after Hugo was born, Stéphane was in instant caretaker mode.
Knowing how I hate clutter, he is in a constant buzz around the house: folding baby blankets, re-arranging pillows that had been tossed to the floor after failed breastfeeding attempts, and washing Hugo’s pee-stained onesies (we’ve since figured out the penis has to be pointed DOWN before closing the diaper; the pile of pee-stained onesies has greatly diminished since this breakthrough).
Stéphane zooms around the house in constant work mode: sweeping up the never-ending piles of Myra’s hair, baking amazing oatmeal and walnut breads, making homemade yogurts, and cooking up fabulously tasty, nutritious meals. Washing clothes, dishes, floors, and butts (Hugo’s thankfully, not mine); caring for Hugo so I can catch up on sleep and get my strength back.
The second he learned that the proper position for breastfeeding is 90 / 90 (ninety degrees at the knees and then again at the back – straight posture), Stéphane disappeared down to the garage. The whirring of drills and other such tools ensued and a short time later he emerged with a stool – topped with a scrap of carpet – for my feet: to help me attain the 90 degree knee bend while sitting in the La-Z Boy chair (my legs being too short otherwise).
Waking up for the fifth time that night for my hourly pumping, I entered the living room which had been transformed into a calming environment: la-z boy chair prepped with boppy pillow and supporting pillows, fire going, mellow music playing softly in the background. Lactation tea in a mug next to my pump, and a zip-lock baggy holding buttered, homemade oatmeal bread as a snack and delivering a special message: I Love You! You may think “cheesy”, but let me tell you, when your body is torn up and exhausted along with your emotions and you are trying to figure out how to take care of an actual human being that you grew; throw in a little sleep-deprivation and hunger and make it 3am: tell me THEN how amazing that zip-lock baggy and its message becomes. It’s all about perspective. And it’s looking pretty fabulous from mine.
So yes, this post is super braggadocious on my part but I am just so proud of Stéphane; proud to call him mine and proud of the amazing husband and father that he is. The Hefti Clan of Maine, now numbering three, is hanging tough and figuring it out.
Some more pics of our sweet little Hugo: