Well, today was a bust. Nothing was done and I didn't go to my parents for the fatherly type's birthday. All this ruined because HRH is sick. Superboy and Photoboy were little champs for the most part by behaving themselves. While we were chilling at home, Superman went and got a superman tattoo, so I thought it would be a wonderful time to tell the story behind my hubby's nickname.
In 2010, I was pregnant with our third child. Both of us were beyond thrilled even though it was a surprise pregnancy. Things seemed to be going well other than my hyperemesis until the day of the gender ultrasound. No heartbeat. I was devestated and could hardly speak. Superman came rushing from work to my side. We spent several hours in labor and delivery only to give birth to a beautiful stillborn baby girl. The next few weeks were kind of a blur to me; however, I do remember one thing. Superman. He made sure I was taken care of, planned the funeral and made sure the boys were okay.
As weeks passed, he tolerated outbursts and me locking myself in our room. Never once did he break down on me. Like Superman, he was strong and took on all demons. Looking back now I have no idea how I could have made it without him. So, that's how my Superman became Superman. Now he really does have an S on his chest. Haha!
Thank you Superman! I love you for all that you do.
~Rachel~
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