To my dear husband Dav, the father of my daughter

These past few days have been pretty hard, and you've stepped up to do everything needed, plus be by my side. I think you are more tired than I am! I knew you'd be a great partner and father, but the immediate involvement and attention to detail in caring for both Tesla and I have made me fall in love all over again. To stay in the sterile hospital, waking up at 3am to take Tes in your arms so I could doze, following all the care instructions (you are the diaper king far and beyond), being patient that I have the boob goodies and you don't no matter how much you want to comfort Tes, and just being here with me all the time is the best gift of all. Not anyone can or would do this.

And now I'm in recovery, with a crazily bloated body that even I don't recognize, with engorged boobs that must make you wonder where the hell your former wife is, with an inch deep gouge across my belly that you have to clean and dress 2 times a day (very gross, I know), and having to help me get up, sit down, even put my undies on. I am completely relying on you with no luxury of embarrassment or playfulness. This is at its most basic, like I imagine we'll take care of each other when we're 90 years old. Hopefully, we'll look back on this soon with a sense of humor, amazed at how trashed my body is over post-partum, post-surgery, and becoming an instant milk-machine.

I love the way you talk to Tesla; it's a soothing voice I've never heard from you before. I know she's listening and is already Daddy's girl. She is lucky to have a father so involved. Right now it's just about swaddling and a clean butt, but it will lead to more very soon. The way she stares into your eyes will just get deeper, and I'm very much looking forward to seeing you two continue to bond.