"I'm home!" I say as I leave the keys on the hall table and grab the bouquet of flowers with my other hand. I felt like giving you a little treat today because you've been having a rough time with your new pregnancy—your second.

The pregnancy with Charlotte and Oliver, our seven-year-old twins, was literally wonderful. You had almost no symptoms, no discomfort; you were like a queen for the entire nine, almost ten months. But this one is proving a bit more complicated. The first two months you vomited nonstop, and now you're tired practically all day long. So my duty as your husband is to take care of you and make sure you exert as little effort as possible.

I follow the sound of cutlery into the kitchen, watching the three of you preparing some kind of cookie-like dough. I place the flowers in the vase on the table and approach you, placing a kiss on your lips while caressing your baby bump with my hand.

"Ugh, gross." we hear our little ones say and we laugh.

"What's wrong? Are you guys getting jealous? I have kisses for everyone!" I say, pouncing on them and showering them with kisses as they try to slip away.