Let’s play a game.
It’s called, “What I See When I Look At A Newborn Vs. What My Husband Sees.”
As a mother, you might think I’d look at a newborn – particularly my own child – and see a crotch-splitting head and nipple-wrenching lips.
But I don’t.
When I look at Eliza, I see a sweet, wobbly noggin filled with curiosity about what the world is.
I see a gummy little mouth making sweet baby noises.
I see teeny hands and toes that before I know it will be gripping the ground and crawling or walking.
I see the cutest baby butt in the world that I can’t keep from patting every time I hold her.
I see a baby who is changing so quickly I worry I am missing precious moments.
My husband, on the other hand, doesn’t see those things.
He sees a s*** machine. And I’m not just talking diapers.
He literally sees a human that is broken.
He sees a wobbly head poised upon a weak neck that is liable to snap and break at any moment.
He sees a mouth that can’t chew real food or tell us why she is crying.
He sees fingers and toes that somehow have developed the sharpest nails in the world and are used as weapons when she is fussy.
And while he might think she has a cute butt … well, I don’t really need to explain this one.
In short, he sees a newborn and wants it to grow up.
And this is why he says he doesn’t want any more kids, and this is why me holding up Eliza and saying, “But this CAN’T be our last baby! Look at how cute she is!” isn’t working.
Within hours of her birth, I announced that I couldn’t wait to have another one. David laughed and said, “No, we’re done now.”
What? WHAT? WHAT?!!!?
This is the same man who said he’d like enough kids to field the starting lineup for the Cleveland Cavaliers (and I’m not into basketball, but I know that means we’d at least need to have a third).
But David hasn’t budged. He really doesn’t want to have any more children. I’m not saying I want another one now, but I’d like to have the option.
After holding up the baby didn’t sway him, I told him – in detail – what a vasectomy procedure entails. That didn’t work, either.
Is this man made of stone? If a cute baby doesn’t get him, how does a needle thrust into his nether region not at least give him pause?
And what’s more shocking is that it’s the newborn who has him shutting down, not the unruly toddler. The baby is the easy one! Babies don’t say, “No,” don’t kick you in the face when you are changing their diaper and don’t run away from you in a parking lot.
David sees Eliza as a lump who needs constant attention, and it’s attention he can’t give (breastfeeding) or doesn’t want to give (blowout diaper changes).
I love the lump. I want another lump. And when I tell David that and he says, “No. End of discussion,” I just have to laugh.
Oh, you’re in for a battle, my sweet husband. The lump will prevail.