First off, full disclosure: Hilary isn’t writing this post. I am (“I” being Mike, her adoring and terribly good-looking husband). I was supposed to write a post on here a while back. Like, when I impregnated my lovely wife. When there wasn’t snow on the ground. But better late than never, no?
I’m going to try to use this post to answer the one question I keep getting asked (from co-workers, family, friends and strangers on the street): “How are you doing with the whole pregnancy thing?”
These last few months have been wild for Hilary, no question. Her body changes daily, she vacillates between hungry and sleepy every few hours, and, yes, she’s growing a small person inside of her. But what about me? What about my needs?
Frankly, I don’t have any. I’ve read a couple of “What To Expect When You’re Expecting: The Man Version” books, and they all say something to the effect of, “Your wife will get all the attention, no one will notice you, and you’ll feel sad about how unimportant you seem.” I disagree. People still notice me. They ask me how I’m doing, how my wife is doing, when the due date is, etc. The fact is, you have to be pretty pathetic to crave attention for yourself when your spouse’s body seemingly changes at random every few hours. I’ll trade a little attention for not having to grow human beings inside me. I give Hilary all the credit in the world: It’s an amazing, incredible, wild, crazy, beautiful thing she’s doing. Enjoy the attention. I’m all set.
Life for me has changed since our little daughter started dividing from one cell to two, but not as much as everyone told me it would. I’ve found that pregnancy is very similar to marriage. When your wife gets pregnant, people (a.k.a. men) tell you how much your life will change, how your freedom is dead and how you’ll never have fun for the next nine months. This is a similar sentiment to the things I heard before I got married (no fun, things change, blah blah blah). Clearly, the guys telling me this stuff are just miserable bastards themselves, and they assume that everyone else should be as miserable as they are. The truth is much harder for them to understand.
The truth is, marriage is like living together prior to marriage, but it’s just a little sweeter and nicer. Pregnancy, while often hard on Hilary, isn’t terribly tough on me. I give her more backrubs than before, we go to bed earlier, we eat a lot, we hang out together, talk, laugh, watch movies and take naps. What a nightmare, right?
Of course things are good. Why wouldn’t they be? Anyone who knows Hilary knows how great she is. Anyone who knows me knows that I know how great Hilary is as well, so why wouldn’t I be enjoying this time of my life, as well? I was happy when Hilary and I were in college together, despite the horrible purple and gold everywhere, the singing and the beanies. I was happy when we lived in Albany, despite the gun shots, sirens and nearly getting stabbed by seven year olds. I was happy living in Maine last year, despite getting fired, living in an apartment the size of a shoebox, and having about seven cents in the bank. And now? Of course I’m happy. We own a beautiful home, we live two blocks from the ocean, I get paid to talk to eighteen year olds about Hamlet, and my beautiful wife is pregnant with our first child. If I was happy before, why wouldn’t I be ecstatic now?
So I apologize that it took me this long to write on here. People have asked Hilary how I’m feeling about the pregnancy, people have asked me how I feel, and here’s the truth: While I have generally been happy nearly every day since eighth grade (when I stopped being fat and discovered exercise makes you more attractive than pepperoni), I have never been as happy as I have been these last six months. I have the job I want, a house I like, and a perfect, healthy, happy, beautiful pregnant wife. Sure, I’m also terrified and scared, but that’s mostly about changing diapers. Otherwise, how am I? I’m great, thanks for asking.