I’m The Milkman

Let’s face in. When it comes to pregnancy and the first few months of a child’s life, your wife is the starting quarterback and us guys are the 3rd stringers, desperate to get in the game. At least some of us are. I’ll never understand fathers who want to be on the sidelines, content to watch from a far. Anyway, to get back to my point, women have to endure changes to their body, constant nausea, difficulty in breathing, and slew of other things that usually make pregnancy very difficult to endure. Same with a starting QB. He gets hit, tackled, stepped on, blindsided and just plain ol beat up. The 3rd stringers would LOVE to get a small piece of that. I can’t imagine what it’s like to grow a human inside me. I can only observe and to me it’s beautiful. Even now, I watch my lovely wife feed our boys and it leaves me in awe. But still, I want to get in the game. I want to do anything possible to help, or be a part of the experience. So I make deliveries. Since the #BrunoBrothers are still in the NICU, Jenny, my lovely wife, is pumping during the night. I can’t really help here but what I can do, is deliver the milk to the hospital every morning. Essentially, I’m the Milkman. And I love it. Every morning I get to see my smiling, beautiful boys and contribute in an ever so small way. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m changing diapers, soothing their cries, reading to them, and having my own bonding time, but being “The Milkman” makes me feel part of the magical experience of providing important nutrition for my boys. I know it’s nowhere near the experience a woman feels but it’s as close as I can get for now… At least until I’m able to give them a bottle. For now, I’ll gladly be “The Milkman.” 


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