Why My Best Friend is My Son's Father

Nearly 9 years ago, I met my best friend. He was a quiet, goofy, bass singer, and pianist who turned my world upside down. Being the assertive, and also demanding, person that I am, it was easy to suck him into the whirlwind of my insanity. Within weeks I had him eating out of my palm; harsh right? But so true.

He was just like any other guy I came across. Flirt, chase, chase, flirt, chase....snag. The only difference was that he refused to let me go when I started to get bored. He wasn't just like any other guy I could throw myself at and dust my hands off post-coitus. He wanted to make me happy, truly happy.

Achieving happiness with me is not an easy task as I sway from one emotion to another within seconds. Some days, being cuddly and lovey-dovey will send me into a euphoric bliss. While others, I don't want to be touched let alone looked at, and would much prefer a bucket of candy and Netflix. It is not an easy job.

Some of you men might be thinking, "Well, isn't that every woman?" Well yes, and no.  It is one thing to have this happen once a month, ya know around menses, but not within the same day. Eight hours with me is something like this:

First: Oh hey! I love you. You are awesome, let's hang out!
Second: You wanna do your own thing and ignore me? How dare you! You a-hole.
Third: Wait...I love you...can you come cuddle with me?
Fourth: Stop touching me.
Fifth: HEY LET'S GO SHOPPING!
Sixth: Eff off.
Seventh: I'm sad...really sad. I just want to watch Orange is the New Black and eat yogurt.
Eighth: I'm okay now! Let's have sex.

How he has been able to put up with my crap for this long, I have no clue, other than the simple fact that he loves me.

When I wanted to have a baby, he wasn't that excited about it. I screamed, fought, and bawled until we both agreed to just go with the flow. If I got pregnant, awesome, but we weren't going to go out of our way to make it happen.  Yet, when I peed on that stick a few months in a row and nothing came of it, I was torn to pieces. I don't mean like, "Aw man, that blows. Well better luck next time." I am talking about uncontrollable snot-filled heaves of "my life is literally over" tears.

Eventually, I did get a positive result, and I almost fell off the toilet when I saw it. I was shaking with excitement and went to announce the news to my best friend. He sat there with an absent look on his face, ready to hurl. The fact that I didn't see immediate happiness form on his face resulted in inner rage.  Which, resulted in a demand from him to be left alone and me in an anxiety-filled heap on the floor of our apartment.

It has been almost two years since that day, and now we are parents to a rambunctious 14-month-old. My best friend is the best father my son could have for a multitude of reasons:

• He makes my son laugh harder than anyone.
• He is gentle.
• He plays with him in a way that only fathers can. Get's down on the floor and talks his language.
• He always shares his food with him.
• He dries his tears.
• He kisses his nose.
• He makes bath time an adventure.
• He snuggles with him till he falls asleep.

Probably my favorite part of the day is when my son's father, my best friend of 9 years, my husband of almost 4, walks through the door, and my son's eyes light up with the anticipation that can only be explained by the unconditional love of a son for his papa.

He is the hardest worker I know, and deserves all the appreciation he could possibly get. He works 45 hours every week and still finds time to make me feel loved while being the best father to my son. He has dealt with my PTSD from rape and my personality disorder without tossing me out the door.

Greg, I love you, and thank you for your continued support as a husband and father. I am certain no one else in this world would be able to withstand my craziness and for that I will be forever indebted to you.