Dear dads-to-be, pregnancy is… tough

My husband might disagree with me, but I don’t consider myself to be a man hater. I’m not one of those women who mutters in disgust, “Ugh, they just don’t understand how hard it is to be a woman.” I have several men in my life for whom I have an enormous amount of respect and love.

And seriously, I wouldn’t want to be a man. Not just because your bodies look uncomfortable to me (which they do), or because I would be missing out on some fabulous girls’ nights or because being tackled looks painful and masochistic. But mainly because I think being a woman is awesome. All PMS and feminine hygiene products aside, this is a good club to be in.

Except for right now.

Other than 12 blissful, semi-normal weeks squished right there in the middle for our sanity, being pregnant is kind of tough. I’m going to attempt to paint a picture for you, even though I know I don’t have the artistic skills to paint one well enough for you to ever be able to vicariously experience, empathise or understand these life-creating, uterus-expanding, back-breaking 40 weeks that we call pregnancy.

All I know is that we were chosen, exclusively, to carry, labour and deliver your children that you implant within us. There is no “your turn”.

Here are some things you might consider, though, the next time you stop feeling sorry for me or any other pregnant woman…

Let’s talk bladder control

It’s as if, every 15 minutes, this tiny mite atop my bladder gains 10 kgs and starts using it as a trampoline. Well, apparently, bladder trampolines have a weight limit. And running to the toilet is not a solution. In fact, running will only speed up the inevitable. You will wet your pants when you’re pregnant. You might even think your water broke, start crying, call your doctor, your mom and your husband thinking you’re going into preterm labour, only to be told you wet your pants.

You think you are hungry?

I realise that you think you are often hungry. No. You don’t know hunger. We are hungry. All the time. This hunger is the type of hunger that makes you feel like you are going to throw up if you don’t eat something right this second.

Ever had a Charlie Horse?

You know, when your toes start curling and your calf starts cramping like you just ran a marathon? We could eat five bananas a day and still wake up at two a.m. writhing in pain. It eventually passes. For about 24 hours.

One word: backache

Every time we sit down, lie down, bend down, look down, our entire back becomes one giant nerve bundle of anger. Standing up is impossible without assistance. But I have halfway mastered the roll to the side, prop up on one arm, push up to the knees, and find something sturdy to pull up on. I am a 78-year-old arthritic woman.

No, we’re not lazy

There are no words to describe the exhaustion. Your wife is not joking when she says she literally can’t keep her eyes open. This is the tired that extends beyond drowsy, way past fatigued, right into dead-man-walking territory.

Don’t ask why we cry

I’m sorry we cry all the time. We are embarrassed by our instability. Don’t ask us why we’re crying. We don’t know. Don’t say, “well, there must be some reason”, because then we will have to think really hard and we might come up with a reason that is, in fact, not the reason at all (because, seriously, there’s not one). This fake reason will sound ridiculous (because it is), turn into a huge fight and then we will just cry some more.

Gone is the body and the mind

We not only lose our bodies – we lose our minds. For example, I will walk into a room fully intending to grab something before we leave, stand there, look around, walk out of the room and walk back in trying to jog my memory, and then just leave. It’s only once we get wherever we’re going that I realise that I have no diapers or wet-wipes and that’s what I probably went back inside for

So, dads, we’re not asking that you carry the next one. We’re not asking that you rub our feet every night or bring us breakfast in bed (but we won’t turn it down). We’re not even asking that you feel sorry for us.

We just ask that you add a dollop of patience to your personality for a few months. We ask that you give us hugs when we’re being crazy, tell us we look beautiful when our faces are as round as our bums, and let us take a few naps on occasion. Because it’s not just our bellies that are changing, it’s our entire world. And we all know that we don’t have the emotional stability to handle that kind of thing on our own.

About the Author:  Hi, my name is Jordan Harrell and I have two kids under two. My husband and I are in charge of raising our two little girls (Charlee Kate and Hattie Jo). I used to teach math and coach volleyball but now I change diapers, skip workouts, and wipe snot. I am striving to be a completely self-sacrificing, deny-myself-daily type of wife and mother while maintaining my sanity. Not easy. This is my life with some thoughts thrown in sporadically if my children nap longer than 30 minutes. Website: http://clarkandjordan.wordpress.com/

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