I've been waking up with leg cramps lately and Dear Hubby has been obliging with massages. I do appreciate how he struggles up, bleary-eyed at 6am and tries his best to follow my instructions. "Left please.. no, more to the right now... okay.. up a little, a little.. too much!" etc etc etc
But over the weekend, we got a sneak preview of how things might just unfold when real labour kicks in. I woke up with the worst leg cramps I've had in a long time AND back pains AND pains between my shoulder blades. Ouchies. Dear Hubby was promptly poked awake and pressed into massage service. As I yowled and howled in pain, he tried his best to lighten my mood by keeping up a string of jokes as he attempted to massage my aches away. But I wasn't in the mood to listen to jokes and just felt like clobbering him with my bolster, "SHUT UP! JUST MASSAGE!"
But I didn't.
I'll remember to tell him not to joke when it's labour for real. I may not be so lucid by then, so I might just end up murdering the father of my child. Which is not good for all three of us.