You are the visual, baby.

You picked up one of the sugary delicacies, examining it before taking a bite. “Is this one peanut butter?”

“Yeah,” Morgan says, adding to his growing grocery list, “I made some of those, some oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip. Figured you’d need some options when you’re in the thick of it. Postpartum doesn’t have to be boring.”

“That’s what I keep saying! I—”

“What if he’s allergic to peanut butter?” Joe unfolds an arm, holding a finger to his chin. “Maybe we just stick to the oatmeal and chocolate chip?”

“Well I actually read that early allergen exposure helps a baby’s tolerance.”

“See?” You jokingly clap for the tattooed man who spent half the morning baking. “You’re not the only one that’s been doing research. Morgan can you just make sure you add oats, flaxseed and brewer’s yeast for my cookies, please? When you’re done decluttering or whatever the hell you guys are doing, please do not come back with more food.”

Joe nods. “She’s right. My mom, her mom, friends, teammates, neighbors—everyone’s gonna start dropping off casseroles. Then we’ll have your meals on top of that. The more we get rid of now, the less we’re drowning later. Oh and, get rid of most of the stuff in the freezers too. We need to add breastmilk bags to the list.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together on their own. “Joe, we don’t need breastmilk bags for at least a few weeks.”

“Okay,” he says simply, not looking up from the list he’d accumulated on his phone, “but I’d rather have them now than in a few weeks.”

“You are planning way too far ahead.”

“What if you need to pump in the middle of the night?” he asks, finally glancing up in your direction. “You can’t just dump it in the sink, babe. That stuff is liquid gold.”

Morgan snorts quietly while moving things out of the back of the freezer. He takes a mental picture and heads to the storage closet for garbage bags.

Joe keeps going anyway. “And if his skin gets irritated or he gets cradle cap or something, we can give him milk baths.”

You point at him immediately. “Do not wish cradle cap on our son.”

“I’m not,” he says quietly, hands raised in defense. “I’m just saying if it happens, we have stuff for it.”

“Well I appreciate you making sure we’ve got everything covered,” you let out a light laugh, shifting in your seat. Every part of you was starting to regret that giant water bottle you’d finished before coming downstairs.

Joe clears his throat, suddenly rubbing the back of his neck like he’s going to say something annoying.

“What? What did you do?”

“It’s not what I did, more like what else we need done.”

“Elaborate.” You tell him, stone-faced.

“I kinda need you out of the house tomorrow from one to maybe...six? Nikki has off and already has this great, super relaxing day planned for the two of you and—”

“That’s taking over prime nap time. You literally told me I needed to build energy reserves.” You gently remind him.

“Now you’re kicking me out of my house for five hours? Why?”

He sighs to bite back a smile. “I did say that and I meant it. You can nap at Nikki’s. And I’m not kicking you out. Remember when we talked about doing a real deep clean?” Joe waited as you acknowledged the previous conversation. “Found a crew to come in and get rid of every speck of dirt we have in here. And they’re bringing in heavy duty industrial cleaning supplies, I don’t want you breathing that stuff in.”

“So maybe I am kicking you out, but for a good reason.” He half argues half pleads.

“Fine. Maybe that is a good reason.” You slowly make your way back to your feet and pull him in for a hug.

“Got a lot to do before little man gets here,” Joe whispers, lips pressed against your temple. “Think we’ll get it all done in time?”

You look up at him, hands moving up to squeeze his shoulders. “I’ve never not seen you accomplish something you put your mind to so...yeah I think we’ll be fine. I do really have to pee though. Are we done?”

“Yeah we’re done,” his lips tilt into this soft lopsided grin. “Go pee please.”

As much as you hated admitting Joe was right, which you weren’t going to do out loud, not willing to stomach that smug look on his face, you took mental notes and made your own to-do list while the guys emptied out half the freezer and a good chunk of the fridge. You sat in bed and thought about all the clothes, burp cloths and swaddles that needed to be washed. And the fact that the nursery furniture wasn’t built; all that was done was the paint job, everything else was still in boxes scattered about the room.

The voice telling you to nap was louder than any other and you gladly listened.

Nikki strolled into your home the next afternoon at 12:30PM, exactly when she said she would. She made a beeline for Joe, who was standing next to Ivy, who was holding an iPad, no doubt full of notes of priority problem areas for the cleaners.

“So...are we preparing for the microbe Olympics or a baby?”

“Both.” Ivy says in a matter-of-fact tone, Excel spreadsheet consuming all of her attention. As the house manager this is the kind of stuff she lived for. This was her Super Bowl.

Joe wasn’t going to respond at first, but he felt compelled to prove to your friend that he wasn’t just doing this for shits and giggles. “Don’t know if you know this but babies have delicate immune systems and I don’t want my son breathing in whatever dust has been collecting in the air vents.”

“Okay that’s fair,” she agrees but decides to continue tormenting him anyway, “but you do know that he’s not gonna yell at you if your baseboards aren’t spotless, right? He’s not a violent dictator.”

You scoff. “You sure? Why don’t you ask my ribs what they think, I bet they’d say otherwise.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is your husband needs to chill before he loses the last of his fucking sanity before the baby even gets here.”

He shoots her a disapproving look. “Language. Do you mind? We have young ears in the room.” Nikki laughs as she watches you jokingly cover both sides of your lower belly to be a supportive partner.

Before this turns out to be an all-out battle, you hold out your hands for Nikki to help you off the couch. “Let’s go get pedicures while Joe deals with World War III: Germageddon.”

“Good one,” he huffs out a fake laugh but tells you he loves you on your way out anyway. He turns to Nikki. “Drive safe. Safer than you usually do.”

“Yes dad.”

“I am not your father.”

“Okay Darth Vader,” she laughs. “I’m gonna get French tips while you inhale dangerous amounts of degreasers.”

He shakes his head with a smile, giving your hand a squeeze. “You guys have fun, I’ll see you later.”

Ice blue chrome on your fingers and toes felt fitting. The lady doing your toes marveled at the swelling in your ankles, Nikki made a small joke about how your toes looked like little sausages and bought you lunch at Crisp and Green to make up for it. Because you had something healthy for lunch, you ate your post-meal Cinnabon without an ounce of guilt. While you indulged in your second MiniBon in the afternoon and your third Scandal rewatch, Joe might as well have been touching surfaces with a white glove to make sure each surface was comparable to an OR. He and Ivy walked side by side tossing out old sheets and towels while the well-equipped cleaning crew tore the house upside down, even cleaning inside and underneath the oven.

After they were done with his office, Joe sat down and secured his crew for tomorrow, the next huge part of his never-ending baby list. He knew his strengths and weaknesses and knew that hiring a crew to build the furniture in the nursery would be better than if he tried to do it himself. He had an important setup project of his own to complete tomorrow and took some time to review his study material before the final exam.

Back at Nikki’s, you settled into the guest room ready for your mandatory midday nap.

“Is that my pillow?” You asked her wide-eyed. “How’d you know?”

“Joe must have dropped it off when we were getting lunch. I had no idea, I swear.”

Your eyes watered a little, touched by the gesture. “He really thought of everything.”

“Well yeah,” Nikki deflects the praise, although she’s secretly slightly impressed. “Don’t know if you’re aware but you married one of the most elite control freaks I have ever seen with my own two eyes. And he’s entering a phase of life that is literally impossible to control. He’s gotta make sure everything else is up to his standards. Including your nap quality apparently.” She laughs. “Parenthood is chaos so yeah, he’s definitely overplanning.”

You sigh, hands clasped your belly, slightly lifting the weight off your hips. “Okay yes. But it’s sweet that he cares so much he doesn’t want to mess any of this up. And he knows my back will hurt really bad if I sleep without this and he’ll have to listen to me complain.”

“He did this to you. He better be saying how high when you say jump at this point.”

“This is true.”

Two hours later you’re back in her car, pillow tucked safely in the back, on the way to your home. It must’ve been divine timing that the cleaning crew was exiting the driveway. You hugged Nikki and thanked her as she handed the pillow to Ivy and hugged you.

“I’ll see you soon,” she bent down and poked your belly button, “you be nice in there dude or we’ll have words when you’re out.”

Joe gave you a side hug. “You feeling okay? He’s not doing jumping jacks or anything?”

“He’s been pretty relaxed all day actually.”

“Good. Cause I have a surprise for you,” he nods towards the garage. “You good to go see it now or do you need a minute?”

“I’m good, I just napped and got in the car so I haven’t been on my feet for very long.”

He smiles, standing behind you and placing his hands over your eyes. You instinctively lean into him, a little confused but mostly concerned about what’s behind the door.

The garage door opens.

“You ready?”

You nod slowly and he moves his hands, revealing a Corinthian bronze Land Rover with a dark, almost gray undertone.

“You got me a new car?”

“I got us a family car.” He explains. “It’s got four-wheel drive, great in the snow. Great crash ratings and gas mileage.”

“When did you even find the time to shop for a new car?”

Joe simply shrugs, then pauses for a while, thinking about how he wants to say this next part without making this gesture a huge deal.

“I’d feel better having him in this car than anything else.”

“It’s a great mom and dad car. Way better than the Rolls-Royce, unfortunately.”

He shakes his head with a laugh, handing you the keys. “You wanna go for a drive?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I do.” You drag yourself into the driver’s seat, immediately adjusting everything to fit your current condition. The belly didn’t exactly make for a perfect steering wheel fit but you could work with that. You reached around to buckle your seatbelt and moved the mirrors until you could see behind you clearly.

“Is your seatbelt okay?”

You glance over, noting the look on his face.

“What?”

“Does it feel too tight?” His eyes flick briefly to your stomach. “Is he squished?”

“I’m pregnant, he’s always a little squished. There really isn’t that much more room for him. He’s fine.” You reached over and grabbed his hand, pressing it to the side of your stomach where the baby had decided to stick his foot out. “Totally doesn’t care what’s happening out here. Now let’s take this mom car for a drive,” you tease, pulling out of the driveway.

“It’s not a mom car, it’s a very safe unisex vehicle.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, babe.”

Driving around the block didn’t take long. The drive was smooth, the GPS system in the front was like a mini computer and you loved the details inside the car. The little stars on the ceiling were endearing, making you think of times when you had a little passenger in the back mesmerized by the indoor constellations. Maybe his dad would pull out his telescope and walk him through real stars one day.

The mere thought of Joe looking at stars with your son created a massive lump in your throat.

“You good?”

Clearing your throat, you nodded, back at your house. “Do you wanna drive?”

“Sure.” Joe says, walking around to help you out of the car. He waited for you to get comfortable before settling in. “Can I ask you a stupid question?”

“You’re gonna ask me anyway.”

“Okay...do you think maybe we could drive to the birth center real fast?”

“And why would we do that?”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “Because I want to see how much time it’ll take us to get there. It’s the middle of the day so we’ve got moderate traffic. Great benchmark for when it’s really time.”

“We’re already here dude, might as well. But you are getting me ice cream after this. Two scoops and don’t make a face about sugar or anything, I’m not in the mood.”

The drive was complete and your scoops of rocky road and a scoop of raspberry sorbet in a bowl were in hand, all within the next 27 minutes.

Less than 24 hours later, another crew had entered your home. This time they’d arrived to finally finish setting up the nursery, which was a relief. To both of you. But Joe wanted to be productive, a couple of handy projects of his own...kind of.

First up, this tiny supercomputer he was calling a white noise machine. The thing was equipped with a million different settings, the rainforest, the ocean, a tiny camera and multiple light features. Joe wasn’t the only person who had been reading parenting books and knew that if you had a light on it should be red because it minimally disrupts melatonin production, supporting sleep and circadian rhythm. You almost literally patted yourself on the back pulling out that fun fact. But Joe was still on step one of the setup so you didn’t want to distract him just yet.

“Can I see your hand?” He randomly asks after pressing a bunch of strange buttons.

“Why...”

“I’m not gonna stab you,” he jokes. “Just let me see.”

You placed your hand in his palm and watched as he placed a pulse oximeter on your pointer finger. “Bill Nye, please explain your latest experiment.”

“Bill? Alright. This little thing is gonna record...” he lifts the machine and turns the knob, a rhythmic thump filling the room, “...your heartbeat. It sounded when I was shopping around. White noise is supposed to mimic the womb and I figured—”

“You’d record my heartbeat in case he needs extra help soothing?”

You almost cried at the thought.

“If he ever misses home, we have a piece of it right here.” He watched you grimace and laughed. “That was a little too cheesy, huh?”

“Extremely. Who are you?”

“Someone’s dad in a few weeks, hopefully sooner rather than later.” He played the recording back and you felt a kick, immediately resting your hand there. “Seems like it’s working already.”

There were tears in your eyes as Joe rested a hand on top of yours, his own eyes a little wet. “We should uh—we should probably do our homework assignment now.”

“Yeah we should,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. “Thank you.”

“You’re sure you’re gonna be able to watch and write things down? I don’t want to scare you but, it might be intense.”

“Babe, I get chased by grown men who want to take my head off for a living. Intense is my middle name. I don’t need notes.” He places the notebook on the table and ditches the writing tool, haphazardly placing his arm around you before starting the video. “Ready when you are.”

You shrug, pressing play. “You have no clue what you’re about to walk into.”

Joe’s relaxed posture slowly turned a bit more tense as the video went on, the graphic image of the baby crowning was unfortunately going to be ingrained in his memory for a long time. You had to stifle a laugh as his usual cool, calm, and collected demeanor shattered into a million pieces like a glass plate hitting the floor.

“Is...is it supposed to stretch that much? I didn’t even know it could do that.” His voice was shaky, as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Yup,” you emphasized the ‘p’ sound. “That is literally how childbirth works, Joseph.” You could practically feel his discomfort radiating off him.

“Oh my god.” Joe muttered, his eyes wide in disbelief as he tried to mentally recover.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You know, it’s not all that bad. It’s just...well, it’s a lot. And it’s very messy.”

He blinked at the screen, still not sure how to process what he’d just witnessed. “You’re gonna have to go through that? With no epidural, no...nothing?”

You chuckled, wrapping yourself up in the blanket and snuggling into his side. “Yes I’m positive. People do this every single day. And you’ll be with me the whole time, I don’t need anything else.”

Joe leaned back, a hand clasped in yours as he processed the visual overload. “You sound pumped. But little man needs to keep cooking for a minute. Dad’s not ready for that yet.” He watched you shift in your seat with a groan. Joe immediately sat up. “That didn’t sound good.”

“At ease soldier, it’s just lightning crotch. Not labor.”

“And what the hell is lightning crotch?” His eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of his head.

“It’s this sharp, sudden pain down there,” you explained, gesturing vaguely toward your lower half. “Totally normal. Just your kid punching my nerves, practicing his UFC moves I think? Doesn’t feel good.”

He looks at you like you’re about to tell him you’re joking but you shake your head. “Pregnancy is sick. And not in a good way.”

“Thank you for your support.” You laugh, hearing the sound of faint hammering and a drill coming from upstairs. “Didn’t you have another DIY project to do today instead of worrying about my ligaments?”

“I do. Is your lightning thing done?”

You smacked him in the chest and pushed off on his thigh to get to your feet. “You’re an idiot.”

The number of times you’d been in the garage in the last 48 hours was starting to get annoying. Today’s workshop included a singular project that had defeated first-time parents since the beginning of time. And Joe stood over it with his shirt tucked into his shorts, his grandpa sneakers with extra support, and gym shorts.

“Are you setting up the car seat or starting OTAs early? I genuinely can’t tell.”

He looks at you like he’s unimpressed with your joke. “I’ll have you know I took an hour class. Online but still, I’m certified.”

“Did this course have a test at the end?”

“It did. I got a 93.”

“Oh my apologies, proceed.”

“Thank you.” He claps his hands. “Okay first, the base.” Joe opens the car door and surveys the backseat before removing the carrier from the base and placing it in the center seat like instructed. Then he anchored the base to the seat and fed the seatbelt through the bottom, only after checking the box instructions...twice.

You looked on in awe, he really sat there and took a class and remembered every single detail. He shook the base to make sure it didn’t move before setting the infant carrier onto the base until it popped into place. He let out a satisfied sigh and stepped back to admire his work.

“That’s probably the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Let’s wait until I take it to Dr. Chen’s for a final check tomorrow before handing out compliments.” He crosses his arms, tilting his head to the side like he’s making sure the car seat angle is appropriate...or something. “But thanks.” Joe says, blushing a little.

You gave his arm a squeeze and smacked his butt on your way back inside.

Half the time, you wanted to tear apart the house and redo the entire kitchen. Some days you wanted to sleep all day and eat three popsicles for breakfast. Today you were feeling like the second thing, which was unfortunate because Joe had a look on his face that screamed he was about to disturb your peace.

Again.

“What do I have to do to convince you to get out of bed?”

“Did you make coffee? And not the decaf kind?” You peeked out from under the blankets, eyes narrowed at him, ready to negotiate.

“I can make coffee.” He promises. “And I have something better.”

“What’s better than a caffeinated, perfectly sugary drink that will make me feel a lot better about being unable to see my feet and the embarrassing amount of acid reflux?”

Joe sits on the edge of the bed and places a hand on your leg. “I don’t think the coffee will help. Might make it worse.”

“It might. But it’ll make my heart happy.”

“And I want that for you,” he assures, squeezing your calf, “which is why I will get you the coffee and also deliver more good news.” He smiled. There was entirely too much satisfaction in his expression. “Nursery’s done.”

Your ears were pulsing, that’s how excited you were for him to open the door.

First thing you noticed was the couch. It looked softer than it had on the website, the perfect place to nap after a midnight feed with enough space to seat multiple people. You were half surprised Joe hadn’t set up a TV in here. The high-density, non-slip memory foam rug looked too soft to step on and the little touches of blue fit perfectly with the soft yet luxurious theme you both had agreed on. Joe didn’t want to be overwhelmed with so much blue it looked like a Thomas the Tank Engine exhibit and you wanted decor that was flexible enough to grow with your baby. One day he would want decorations in the room, maybe superheroes or music notes on the walls, and you wanted to give him a relatively blank canvas to start with.

The builders really had done an incredible job setting everything where you pictured it. And Joe couldn’t wait to give you the full tour.

He gestures toward the window. “Blackout curtains. I read that they can help babies and toddlers sleep better. They can also help regulate the temperature and reduce noise. For temperature though, I got a Dyson fan obviously. It’s supposed to be the best.” He walks you over to the next spot. “Over here we have the changing table.”

“Does this...have a built-in warming pad for wipes?”

“Yeah, isn’t it great? So his little butt is warm when we change him in the middle of the night.”

You let out a soft laugh at how much of a softie he already is for someone he hasn’t met yet. “He’s gonna be mad we’re changing him either way, warm wipes or not. But I know you’ll be using it so it’s fine.”

He opens the top drawer of the changing table. “I put some miscellaneous stuff in here. All organic. Silk-blend crib sheets, swaddles, and burp cloths. Ivy washed and sorted through everything yesterday so it’s good to go. Over here is the feeding station and the mini fridge, which I’m pumped about.”

“Why do we need a mini fridge in the nursery?”

“Think about this. I’m on overnight baby duty and you’re catching up on sleep. Our baby is sobbing because he’s hungry. Instead of making him wait while I go downstairs and grab a bottle, we just have the bottles in here. And then this little compartment on this side is a freezer so we can have milk storage bags in here too since the bottle warmer is right there. And watch this,” Joe said, pressing a button on the bottle warmer. “It’s like a Formula 1 pit stop but for babies. Two minutes tops, and he’s good to go.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at his comparison.

“You know what? I’m not mad at that. Keep going.”

“Right next to the fridge is the actual feeding station so we’ve got a couple pillows here next to the chair, burp cloths and then a little table in case whoever is in here needs water or to set something down. White noise machine is over here. You already know how that works.”

Joe is going through the various assortment of baby blankets, one of them being from his high school coach’s wife. She’d turned a bunch of his old shirts into a quilt. His dad cried giving it to him.

The thing that caught your attention though was the bookcase.

You stepped closer to it, running your fingers over the smooth edges. “Are these...collector’s editions of Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are?”

“Collector’s editions,” Joe corrected with a sheepish shrug. “My mom used to read these to me,” Joe explained, his voice soft. “I figured...maybe I could do the same for him. Only with the fanciest versions.”

“Of course,” you affirm him. “You’re adorable. This place is...a lot. But it’s genuinely perfect, Joe. I can’t believe you and your crew pulled it off so fast.”

“You’re doing the hard part. I’m just the assistant.”

“Well you need a promotion because seriously, being in here and seeing it finished makes it feel more real. There’s gonna be an actual person using this stuff. That’s insane.”

Glancing at the books again, you couldn’t believe he’d gone out and looked for these special edition children’s books. And then you saw something else resting on the shelf.

“What is that?”

“Huh?”

You held up the jewelry box. “This?”

“I don’t know. Open it.”

A gold necklace rests in the box, in the center is a small emerald square pendant. It isn’t covered in diamonds or super flashy, something you’d casually wear on any given day. An understated, timeless piece.

“Joe...”

“Our baby is due in May.” He explains like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “May’s birthstone is emerald. And we met in May. I figured...May’s been a pretty solid month for us. This is a good way to remember that.”

“Do you have one too?”

He nods, pulling out a gold chain of his own with a similar green pendant looped through the middle.

You hand him the box and he clasps the necklace around your neck. You rest your hand on the jewel, turning to look up at him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you close the distance as best as you can and give him a kiss, then a few tiny kisses afterward so he knows how much you appreciate the gesture.

“So I’m guessing you like it?” He watches you nod and lets you kiss him again.

A timely kick brings you back to reality.

“Someone doesn’t appreciate not being the center of attention.”

Joe places his hand on the spot and chuckles. “God that’s still crazy how active he is.”

“Especially when he hears you talk,” you add. “He already knows your voice and is probably gonna come out looking like a tiny version of you. At least, I hope he does.”

“You really want him to look like me?”

“Of course I do! I’ve seen your baby pictures. You were such an adorable little kid.”

He doesn’t look impressed. “No matter what he looks like he’s gonna be cute, he’s ours. He could come out looking like an alien and we’d still be convinced he’s perfect.”

“Because he will be.” You defend.

“Right, what was I thinking.” He says, adjusting your necklace. There probably wasn’t anything wrong with it, he just needed to ground himself in the moment. “How mad would you be if I told you I have one more surprise?”

You groan, forehead lightly hitting his chest. “What did you do now?”

“I think it’s better if I just show you.”

Joe leads you downstairs to one of the guest bathrooms. There are a bunch of bathrooms in the house but this one is rarely used. Except, when he flicks the light on, the room looks completely different.

“Been doing some research, and before you say anything I had help. Ivy’s been pretty clutch the last few weeks—technically years. But especially with this.”

The room is filled with postpartum recovery items. Witch hazel pads, peri bottles, first aid spray, hot and cold gel packs and other things you didn’t even think about, like fuzzy socks and a super soft new bathrobe that felt like you were being hugged. But still light enough not to sweat through since you’d heard about postpartum temperature regulation. Or lack thereof.

“All you need to worry about when we’re home is feeding him and recovering,” Joe continues. “We figured this would be one less thing for you to think about. Your body’s doing something really cool right now, it’s gonna do something even cooler later and I wanted to help. I can move this stuff upstairs when you need it and restock when you get low.”

“Little dude has everything he needs,” he sighs, feeling accomplished. “Wanted to make sure you were taken care of too.”

You’d done such a good job keeping the emotions at bay this week. Had a few almosts but you’d managed to push the tears down. Now, imagine putting up a brave fight against getting emotional over recording your heartbeat, getting an emerald pendant and seeing collector’s editions of your husband’s favorite childhood books only to lose the battle at the sight of stool softeners and nipple cream.

Warm tears streamed down your face before you even registered you were crying.

It was too much.

The thought behind it, his mantra of knowing you’d be in pain and exhausted and just wanting to make that better, was the most Joe thing ever. On top of everything else he’d done this week.

He turns, wanting to see what you think and his face drops when he sees you cry.

“What? What’s wrong?” He’s scanning your entire body like the answer’s just gonna jump out at him.

“Nothing,” you sniff, wiping your eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

You shake your head, letting out a deep breath as his hand finds your lower back, rubbing small circles there.

“Actually yes I do. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me. And you keep being sweet. I’ve almost cried like five times the last three days and I kept it together but this? Babe, you sat there and bought me adult diapers and I’m also pissed because hormones are beating my ass.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it isn’t.” You let out a short, wet laugh, fresh tears escaping. He thumbs them away with his free hand. “But I can’t help it, you’ve been a pretty perfect husband this week.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Joe says blankly. “I left a bowl in the sink yesterday, could’ve put it in the dishwasher, didn’t feel like doing it. And my Lego set has been sitting down here on the table the last eight days, untouched.”

“That’s not perfect husband behavior,” he says in a matter-of-fact way.

You shake your head, wiping your eyes one more time. “You’re ruining the moment.”

That gets him to laugh as you let out a shaky sigh, holding onto his arm as you take another look at your postpartum recovery headquarters.

“Seriously though, thank you. I’m really, really lucky to have you.” You rest a hand on your belly. “And so is he.”

He places a hand on top of yours and leans down to kiss your forehead.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about any of this stuff,” he gestures around the room before putting his hand right where it was. “I’m just glad he has a room, a car seat, and the house is clean. Now we can breathe a little easier before he comes in and creates a bunch of chaos.”

“You know what I just thought about?”

“Hm?”

“We have these emerald necklaces. What if he’s born in April?”

He shrugs.