17w6d - World's best husband

So, it's 3 am and I'm wide awake. I'm feeling cranky, tossing and turning, rolling over a million times in bed without being able to find a comfortable position. I adjust the pregnancy body pillow, sigh, and try again.

My husband wakes up from the commotion, gently strokes my back, and asks if I'm okay. I whine about my swollen hands and feet, the heartburn, the uterine pain and how restless I'm feeling. He says, "I wish I could do something to help you. I'll call NASA first thing in the morning and we can go live on the International Space Station." Aaah, weightlessness.

He cracks me up and always seems to know just what to say or do to make me feel better in an instant. I love him. His comment makes me think of the selfless, considerate man that I married. So I get up to write it down instead of staring at the wall. Someday, when the triplets are old enough to understand, I hope I can remember all of this:

I came home from work one day - during the first few weeks of the pregnancy - to find that he had spent his day off redesigning and raising our low platform bed to make it easier for me to get in and out as the pregnancy progresses. At the time, it didn't seem necessary, but now I'm incredibly thankful that I can just swing my feet over the edge of the bed to get up and not have to lift myself and three babies off the floor three times a night as I head to the bathroom.

Without any prompting from me, he replaced our missing stair railing to ensure that I could get down to the basement and back safely.

My husband bought a night light so I wouldn't bump into our bedroom furniture (or the wall!) during my nightly bathroom escapades.

He installed a new threshold over an uneven part where our hallway meets our bathroom floor, "because soon you won't be able to see your feet anymore and I don't want you stubbing your toes."

He is frantically working to finish renovating our 2nd bathroom, nursery, and guest room before the triplets arrive.

Ever since we heard that I'm pregnant and expecting triplets, he has taken over all of the cleaning duties in the house. Vacuuming, cleaning with chemicals, and basically anything I don't feel up to doing. He has never made me feel guilty, and although I often feel like I'm not contributing, he'd just say, "No, you're doing the most important thing. Growing our babies."

He helps to make dinner when I'm wiped out. When I was so nauseous somewhere between week 7 and 10 that I suddenly couldn't stand the smell of the dinner we were preparing, he retrieved a fan from our basement, opened the windows, and solved the problem.

There's much much more, but suffice it to say that he gets it. All of it. And more importantly, he gets me. Our kids are so fortunate to have him as a father.