Stretching

I was talking to my Supervisor at work today about the mental and emotional stretching that goes into having a baby and postpartum, as much so, if not more, than the physical stretching.  Women...we are used to being stretchy.  And mainly I was talking about how I'm worried that Phil, who has taken on so much in the way of care for our new baby--more so with this baby than he ever has with the other babies--might not be able to stretch much more. 

Yes, I know, we women do it all the time.  But we can do it.  Men...well I just don't see them as stretchy people.  I'm afraid I might come home from work one day to find Phil rocking and shaking in the corner, completely exhausted and broken.  As for me, I'm used to rocking and shaking in the corner and I know that I'll stand up and resume normal life as soon as the moment passes.

I had a Ken doll once.  He was the groom to my Barbie bride Tracy.  I was young, about 5-years-old when I had these dolls.  This particular Ken had brown hair, an olive complexion and a new fandangled rubber band in his torso that made him able to bend over and turn from side to side.  I distinctly remember that the band (which of course I had to inspect) was a thick, black band.  Nearly qualified to be used as an industrial band.  A tough, blue-collar band, if you will.  And yet, after an afternoon of playing, some bending over, some twisting, some pulling, Ken broke in half.  Simply broke.

My mother thought it was awfully quick for Ken to call it quits.  She complained to Mattel and the Better Business Bureau.  Famous for her letter-writing, a replacement Ken soon came in the mail.  He broke fairly quickly too.

My mother and I were perplexed.  What the hell was wrong with this man-doll?  Why couldn't he hang with life?  Was he afraid to marry his bride, Tracy? 

See, that's my fear with Phil...he will keep giving until he breaks.  Men break right?  Women stretch.  The only man, until now, I know that stretches is my father.  He's a verifiable retired Gumby.  Sometimes a grouchy Gumby.  But Gumby all the same.  But most men, I fear, are like Groom Ken.  They eventually break under pressure. 

But I don't know...he (Phil, not Ken) amazes me.  He is so very good with the baby manchild of our's.   And so far, he just keeps stretching, and I'm impressed.  I'm also better rested than usual and able to take care of the baby better. 

What I see happening is that I stretch and stretch, and about the time I'd retreat to the corner to rock and shake back and forth, Phil stretches and takes over so I can retract and relax.  And about the time Phil is about to break, I stretch.

So maybe we'll just stretch this out, this whole postpartum thing.  We'll just stretch it out together and I won't end up in the corner and Phil won't end up broken in half, with a failed black band hanging from his torso.  Which is good...because that would be gross.