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7 years
ago

 

Week 10: Hopeless Dancers

Even the most graceful of women begin bumping into things when they’re pregnant. Sarah’s weight gain hasn’t even begun yet, but her joints are loosening up and her center of gravity is all over the place. Which made dancing at the wedding interesting. Even under the best of circumstances, Sarah and I are monumentally bad dancers, and we’ve managed to get even worse. We staked out our own spot on the floor and lumbered around in slow, small circles to minimize the damage…

7 years
ago

 

Week 10: Secrets and Lies

They say you spend a third of your life in bed. I’m convinced that pregnant women spend a third of theirs in the bathroom. No matter what time I wake up, be it midnight, 6 a.m., or 4 in the afternoon, Sarah’s never in bed. If I sit up I usually hear NPR coming from the bathroom radio. Why is this?

The answer is simple. The vomiting, the digestive issues, the impromptu baths, and the insatiable need to urinate make the bathroom the only logical room for her to spend time in. She has set up a little colony in there, the centerpiece of which is a basket full of Little House on the Prairie books and New Yorkers and cooking magazines next to the toilet. She’s read everything twice. I’m convinced if the bathroom had a refrigerator and a hammock she could live in there.

7 years
ago

 

Week 9: Sweet and Viscous

A word about breasts.

A lot of men out there are obsessed with them, which makes pregnancy the utopian ideal for a red-blooded male, because suddenly everything revolves around them. But it’s also the worst kind of catch-22, because your wife’s boobs are so sensitive you’re not allowed to touch them. Or point at them. Or look at them. I can’t stress this enough: Do not toy with your pregnant wife’s breasts…

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7 years
ago

 

Week 8: The Emasculation Parade

My first step was to join the male equivalent, an Expectant Dads message board. I quickly found out that was different from Sarah’s. The men, unlike the women on Sarah’s good little Stepford Wives group, cut across all lines of age, education, ethnicity, and interest level in All Things Baby. And it is a freakshow. A 100 percent technicolor circus spectacle.

Some of these guys know nothing and are in honest need of guidance.

Others are there because it’s a safe place to badmouth their wife…

7 years
ago

 

Week 7: Babies are the New Black

With this . . . thing . . . growing in Sarah, keeping the Big Secret means nonstop paranoia. We feel like sophomores who have been smoking pot all afternoon, certain that everyone can tell we’re baked, and that everyone is whispering behind our backs. They’re not, not yet. But it does feel like everyone is talking about babies, which of course isn’t true. It’s just that, for the first time, I’m paying attention.

We had a big deck party and it was babies this and babies that all afternoon. Sarah and I tried hard not to make eye contact in fear that we would be found out. One guy, a creative director at DDB or something, told me he was looking to patent a strap-on vest for fathers filled with milk so they could “breastfeed” their babies when Mom wasn’t around. He called it . . . wait for it . . . “The Milkman.” I thought it was brilliant, until Sarah asked me if I would ever consider wearing one. (Editor’s note: not long after, the writers of Meet the Fockers had the same idea and put Robert DeNiro in one. Coincidence? Editor’s note #2: Boy, DeNiro’s career has really blossomed.) …

7 years
ago

 

Week 6: Shelter from the Storm

One night on our camping trip, after Sarah fell into an unpleasant-sounding sleep, I continued to read by the light of the flickering campfire. Random information jumped off the page—seven servings a day of fruits and vegetables . . . eight glasses of water . . . lots of milk and dairy products—until it all started to give me a headache. Then I came across an alarming passage. Turns out that a number of men suffer from the nagging fear that their wife’s baby is not theirs. Whether or not they trust their wife’s faithfulness is beside the point. The doubt is a common psychological response for men when they’re first hit with a mind-blowing notion: I am powerful enough to create a life.

Is the baby mine? Jeez, I haven’t given it a thought…