A Sweet Husband Story

21 Jan

It’s been a bleak day. The weather in Atlanta has been dreary. Many of the people I know are marching in protest of the President who was inaugurated yesterday. This, however, is a story about socks. Really great socks that make me happy every time I look at them.

When I was getting together my last minute things for the hospital while in labor, I picked out my favorite pair of socks to wear. I actually thought to myself, “Maybe they’ll be my lucky socks for labor.”

Once I was done with triage, the nurse had me put on super anti-slip, hospital-issued socks so that they wouldn’t get sued if I fell — I mean, so I wouldn’t fall. Because I was having contractions and my pelvis was still hurting from my huge belly (I hadn’t been able to comfortably put on a pair of socks or shoes for months), in an attempt to hurry I put the socks on over my lucky socks.

An hour later, while I was busy holding my newborn, the midwife or a nurse pulled off one soaked hospital sock in an effort to help me clean up. She didn’t realize that one half of my lucky sock pair was still inside said hospital sock. I had a brief thought that I could deal with that later, but alas, when I next thought about it, it was missing.

My husband, after our magic bonding hour with our new baby, spent a good 15 minutes donning gloves and digging through the biomedical waste baskets in an attempt to find my socks, which at this point had both gone missing. He found one, and I implored him to give up on the other, that it didn’t really matter.

Several days later, while at home, an Amazon box arrived at our door. It was a new box of Betsey Johnson socks (only the coolest socks ever), and the designs were even better than the socks I had had before. Some people might want diamonds for a push present, but this thoughtful gift from my husband means I now have seven lucky pairs of socks and a smile on my face whenever I look at my warm toes.

sock

 

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