From Da Man. Weekly Guest Post.
Lenny Lafave (intentional, phonetic spelling) is a friend from high school. I hadn’t seen Lenny in about 20 years, before our paths crossed again in NYC. It was a good thing for me that they did too. He had become a personal trainer, and I had become fat. While my CrossFit sessions didn’t last as long as they should have, our friendship has remained. He has since married a beautiful woman, and now they have a baby on the way.
I love Lenny’s take on ‘male pregnancy.’ I especially love when he says he is ‘now ready’ to be a dad. Congratulations Lenny and Kahrin! You will be great parents.
I caught my wife’s pregnancy.
She is now 29 weeks pregnant and we are 9 weeks away from giving birth to my son. It’s a crazy time in my life. I’ve managed to delay this responsibility for the majority of my adult life, but now I’m ready. I’m ready to be a dad. I’m ready for the whole enchilada. It’s an overwhelming yet welcome challenge. I want to raise another human to pass on the things I’ve learned and for the new challenges that wait ahead of me.
Along with the sense of adventure and challenge, I have to admit, I’ve been having some issues with this whole pregnancy thing. First, no one told me about sympathy weight gain. MY weight — since my wife has gotten pregnant – has gone up. In fact, I’ve put on almost as much weight as she has (12lbs for me 14lbs for her). I’m an active guy, it’s my job as a personal trainer, but for some reason, I just keep gaining sympathy weight. My activity levels are roughly the same. I suppose I could blame a knee injury – but that was a month ago, so I’m a little stumped. I’m just hoping it will go away when the baby gets here.
Another issue I’m having: I am extremely emotional. I cry. A lot. By a lot, I mean three times. In one day. This must be the hormones, but man, it is annoying. I’m usually a pretty tough guy. Suddenly, I’m not even in control of my own emotions. AND it can happen at any time. Sunday was my wife’s birthday, and I woke up early- like I always do, and started to read the paper. There was an article about a girl who lost her child. BAM!! Tears for fears on my face. The next crying jag was very unexpected as well. I was watching a segment on Sports center about Lebron James giving a girl with cancer his jersey, and letting her take a three pointer during warm ups. It was so touching and heartfelt that the water works just started again. The most recent time was at the Broadway play Kinky Boots. I think it was the humanity of the play that got to me. Cry fest 2014 underway. This is too much for me.
Third, holy cow there’s a lot of new baby items in my apartment!! Some are new; some are ‘hand me downs’ from friends and relatives. Where do they even come up with all this stuff? How much do they think the little guy is going to be able to do in a day? This is totally overwhelming, not to mention perplexing, to me. Also, I have no idea what diapers to buy. I got some adult diapers for myself but my little one is a mystery. I guess I go by the age on the box and just start with zero.
As a male, we spend a lot of time getting asked questions about strollers, and playthings, and diapers, and other baby accouterment that we really know nothing about. So mostly, we smile, nod and go for what looks cool.
One thing I will say is that I feel guilty for all the things my wife is going through. I feel badly when she has a Braxton Hicks contractions. I felt badly about her morning sickness in the first trimester. The overwhelming tiredness she had in the 2nd trimester. Seems painful. I suppose – like the video that made its way around the Internet – I could go through a procedure where they hook electrodes up to my body to mimic the feelings of labor so I can commiserate with my wife. But really, that’s not going to make anyone happy. So I just try to make her as comfortable as possible. Foot rubs are my specialty, so she gets a lot of those. Cravings haven’t been that bad for her. I’ve only had to get some kimchi tacos once.
Sometimes I get home late from work and she’s home passed out. She says she’s super tired. The dishes aren’t done, the dog isn’t walked, and the house isn’t picked up. Then I tell myself to STFU, because your wife is pregnant. She’s carrying your child. You should be grateful to her until the day you die for giving birth to your offspring. The sacrifice, the discomfort, the pain she’s about to endure, it must be worth a million dishes, and dog walks, and foot rubs.
So her response to the pregnancy is all OK for me; in fact, she’s been great. And I actually think it’s sexy that she’s put on some weight, and touching when she gets emotional.
But man, given how hard this pregnancy has been on ME, I hope she feels the same way.