AND BABY MAKES THREE
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OK, let’s take a little quiz.
Which of the following is the most scary:
I think we can all agree that it’s #4.
Yes, yours truly is boldly heading towards parenthood, and I’ve got to tell you – I have heard WAY more about a woman’s reproductive system than I ever wanted to.
My wife is due some time in July. For those of you who can’t remember what July feels like, it’s hot. Really hot. My wife should be pleasant as can be as she’s the size of a Boston Whaler and cruising around in 110-degree heat with a thousand percent humidity. (Note to self: Remove Boston Whaler reference before publication, lest wife have to use that whole "I was hormonal" excuse again.)
For now, we are just enjoying the daily changes my wife is experiencing as she prepares to hatch our first child. Most of those daily changes involve various parts of her body hurting. And it’s not always parts of the body that seem, to me at least, directly related to the whole child birth thing. For example, I did not know that the feet were a crucial component of birthing, yet they have begun a steady crusade of pain. And goodness knows, I’m a smart enough guy to know that if a pregnant woman kicks her feet in your lap and tells you to rub, you better get it over with, lest you make her cry.
Which brings us to our next point – the crying. My wife has always been fairly quick to tears, which is understandable after this much time with me. But now, she is a flood gate. The other day at work, I got a call from her. When I picked up the line, I was greeted with sobs and wails. Immediately, I thought something was wrong:
ME: Honey, what’s wrong. Calm down. Tell me what’s wrong.
HER: It’s…it’s…it’s…so…sad…
ME: What? What has happened?
HER: It’s Oprah…
ME: Oprah? It’s Oprah?
HER: She’s giving…sniff…computers to people…sob…who have never used them before…sniff…and it’s SOOOO sad….sooooooooobbbbbbbbb.
ME: Click.
The funniest part about the crying (I know, I know, I’m an insensitive clod) is that my wife knows she’s being hormonal. She will be crying and wailing, but in between sobs she will begin laughing, because she knows that free computers on Oprah is really not the tear-jerker she’s made it up to be.
Despite the discomfort and the Niagara-like tear ducts, my wife is enjoying her pregnancy. We have even gotten a picture of the baby, although it looks more like a weather radar map to me. She told me there is a baby in that ultrasound somewhere, and I just nod and say, "Yep. And there’s gonna be showers in Cleveland."
While we are both enjoying the excitement of starting a family, I highly recommend none of you ever, ever, ever say to my wife, "So you and your husband are pregnant!" She will be quick to point out that said husband will not be partaking in any of the labor, and therefore gets no claim to the pregnancy. And if you can figure out a way to transfer some of labor duties to the husband, I beg you to keep it to yourself. I will continue to take the approach that I would never impede on a woman’s sacred gift of hatching a toaster oven.
I am trying to be a good husband during this time. I know it’s hard, so I’ve pitched in where I can. For example, I told her it would be fine is she just took the trash out every other day. And as for dinner – she doesn’t have to cook on Fridays, because we’ll order pizza! See? Am I great guy or what!?!?!
OK, save your e-mails and phone calls. I’m kidding. I have done more cooking and cleaning over the past few months than most men do in a lifetime. I am Super Husband. I am devoted to my wife and my child. I am scared of her hormones.\