Five Things Having A Pregnant Wife Has Taught Me
1. Look, I get it. Pretty much every living thing you see — humans, birds, gnats, plants, Zetas, etc — can reproduce. And when something can be done by everything that shares any type of biological connection to you, it’s really not that big of a deal. I mean, I didn’t go around all excited and shit when I learned Iggy Azalea is the AntiChrist. Because anyone can see that. And since anyone can see that, this knowledge doesn’t make me special.
In theory, reproduction should follow the same rules.
But HOLY SHIT!!! THERE IS A LIVING HUMAN BEING IN MY WIFE’S BODY!!! THAT WE PRODUCED!!! AND IT HAS A HEARTBEAT!!! A MOTHERFUCKING HEARTBEAT!!!
And this — the HOLY SHIT(!!!)-ness of the realization you were able to create an actual living human being — is never not amazing.
Still, I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit…
2. Until you hear the heartbeat, the pregnancy remains an abstraction. At least it did for me. It’s hard to explain. I mean, you’re aware your wife is pregnant. You know this. You’ve seen the take-home test results, you know she’s not having periods, and you’re aware she’s getting progressively stranger by the day (more on this in a bit). But you don’t feel it yet because it’s such a mind-blowing concept to grasp. It’s still not quite real. And it doesn’t help that The Wife Person’s baby bump right now looks less like an actual human is in there and more like she just ate thirteen Cheddar Bay biscuits.
But then you go to the doctor and hear the heartbeat. And you have your first real “Holy Shit!” moment. And shit gets real. And then you start to fully wrap your mind around the fact that you’re about to be someone’s freakin’ dad. And it’s exciting. But more than exciting, it’s scary. Not because I’m not excited about being a dad. But because, how should I put this…um, have you met me? I had two waffles and three Cheetos for breakfast this morning. I’ve taken at least two “showers” in the sink in the last month. (I believe those are called “ho baths.”) Last night, I lost a staring contest with a stray cat. And I’m about to be someone’s freakin’ dad?????? Pray for this child.
3. Before The Wife Person was The Wife Person, we bonded over a shared love of seafood, spending countless happy hours sharing calamari and shrimp at Savoy. This affinity was so deep that we had a seafood brunch wedding. And, almost a year later, still remain pissed we weren’t able to eat as much as we wanted to.
The Pregnant Wife Person, however, doesn’t like shrimp as much. Or calamari. Or fish. Or any seafood, really. Instead, she loves…noodles. Noodles for lunch. Noodles for dinner. Noodle snacks. Noodles with a side of noodles. Shit, I’m surprised she hasn’t attempted to put noodles in our breakfast smoothies, and I kinda don’t want her to read this sentence because I don’t want her to get any ideas. I would not be terribly surprised if, by July, she completely metamorphosized into an egg noodle.
4. Pregnancy is really the world’s ultimate “get out of jail free” card. Every awkward craving for sherbet and spaghetti and ice cream and broccoli, every bout of bizarre behavior, every time she calls me from work because she can’t find her cell phone even though the phone she can’t find is the one she’s calling me with, every time she complains about being “too hot” in a 61 degree loft, it’s all blamed on the pregnancy.
Thing is, I know she’s not making shit up. There’s A LOT going on in her body right now — an alien entity with its own social security number is making these demands, not her — and her behavior is a result of that. It still doesn’t make this process any less entertaining and amusing, though. And by “entertaining and amusing” I mean….actually, let’s just stick with “entertaining and amusing.”
5. My sperm works, apparently.
I know this seems super obvious, but if you’re a man who’s never gotten anyone pregnant, you really have no way of knowing how efficient your sperm happens to be. You might have inefficient sperm. You have no idea. But now I know my sperm works, so Yay my sperm!!!