I’ve been on bed rest for three weeks now, due to repeated bleeding in pregnancy and problems with the placenta. My doctor told me not to lift more than 10 pounds and to camp out on the couch.

Of course, this means Mama is almost useless around the house and with the kids.

In these three weeks, it’s been beautiful to see family and friends surround us to offer support. My mom, also a local missionary, has set aside her life again and again to help with our kids and home. Friends from church have offered to cook, clean the house, and watch our kids. I’ve swallowed my pride and felt helpless, but so thankful for the people who are sacrificing their time.

But more than anyone, I want to thank my husband. He won’t know about this post until it goes live. Because he’d say he’s just doing his part, that this is the role God gave him.

And in some ways, he’s right. When we got married, Josh promised to love me as Christ loved the Church, willing to lay down his life.

But for a guy who married a strong-willed, independent woman, he’s had to take care of me far more than either of us anticipated. Difficult pregnancies, other health problems, repeated bouts with depression, wrestling with anxiety. We didn’t expect any of this, but he’s graciously walked through them all with me.

So, Babe, I want to say, “Thank you.”

Thank you for cooking most of our breakfasts, lunches and dinners for three weeks straight. Thank you for doing laundry. For grocery shopping. For cleaning the house. Thank you for working from home so you could take care of our family, too.

Thanks for taking Nora to her dance classes, for reading books to the kids, for playing games. Thank you for dealing with the whining, every argument, and each temper tantrum our strong-willed kids could throw at you. Thank you for never loving them less, no matter how they act and despite your exhaustion.

Thank you for bringing me food and drinks to the couch, for finding my clothes when I can’t walk to the closet. Thank you for watching me closely, to make sure I’m ok physically, because you know I’ll just tell you I’m fine. Thanks for making run after run to the drugstore. Thank you for carrying me up the stairs to bed every night.

Thanks for coming home when you knew I was crying last week. Thank you for telling me every day that I’m ok, that baby is going to be fine. Thanks for praying for me and with me, and for holding me when I’m scared and overwhelmed. Thank you for telling me I’m strong when I feel so weak and helpless.

Thank you for loving me so well.

Because a less godly man might have given up, and surely would have complained. You have been a rock in our marriage, as you’ve stood on the only Rock who can truly support us.

Thank you, Babe.