Are we there yet?

The long road of Pregnancy

We’ve now entered the stretch that I was warned so fervently about.  Early on, people would ask how my wife was doing and I would respond enthusiastically.  She’s great!  I often wondered why women would scoff at this, or look at me as if I was a lost puppy.  Just wait, wait until the fun part begins. 

I laughed, thinking to myself, no, not us.  My wife is carrying this baby like a boss.  We haven’t experienced anything close to the horror stories I’ve heard from friends and family members, or that guy from the Do It Yourself website forum.

It was too easy, I was beginning to look for a stork circling the house.  My wife complained little, joined me to walk the dogs, and was basically her sweet, lovely self.  She had none of the weird food cravings and aversions that are so common with pregnancy, and life went on as planned.  But then, when I wasn’t paying attention, it happened.

I woke up one morning and my wife’s belly had ballooned overnight.  It hung out of her shirt like a WalMart shopper.  She rocked back and forth, trying to roll out of bed.  No more fun and games, my wife is pregnant!

Just last night for instance, I glanced over at the counter and noticed a glass of orange juice and a jar of pickles on the counter.  She ate a plate of lasagna that would make Michael Phelps jealous.  We have two containers of ice cream in the fridge and a heating pad in the microwave.  At 6:36 this morning, she asked me what I wanted for dinner tonight.  Time to hunker down, this is what I was warned about.

Climbing into bed with a pregnant woman is like fitting into a puzzle.  I have to find an unused place in the bed and be sure not to move any of the strategically placed pillows.  There’s snoring, peeing, shifting, swelling, sweating, and moaning. 

Her ankles are swollen and puffy, her wrists hurt, her back aches.  On one occasion, I woke up to her leaning against the doorway, giving herself a back massage in the middle of the night.

With two months still to go, I hope it doesn’t get much worse. (Go ahead, laugh)  In all honesty, we have been lucky, but pretty soon I will be putting my wife’s shoes on for her and pricing motorized carts.  So to all who have been through this already, please, let this expectant father blindly go the rest of the way without knowing just how much worse things can get.  Who knows? Maybe this little guy will decide to make an early exit.