My friend Amy and I were having a discussion this week and she said if men could procreate, she would totally be down with that. I said there is no way men could handle this shit.
I mean that in the nicest possible way. Pregnancy and childbirth is super hardcore; the most discomfort and pain I have ever dealt with in my life, times three. And it’s funny to me to think about a big, tough man bearing a child, because I’m certain it would turn even the toughest man beast into a sniveling wimp.
I have the utmost respect for men — I’m not one of those women who dog them and talk about how stupid or incapable they are. My husband is a wonderful man. He is smart and strong and able. He’s very, very manly and tall and looks like some kind of woodsman … and although I have never seen him do anything woodsman-like, I’m sure if push came to shove he would figure it out.
If he had to watch his body change shape, with his innards forced up and to the side to make way for a person living in there, feel the alarming discomfort associated with a baby pounding on your cervix, and witness his private parts turn inside out … I’m fairly certain he couldn’t deal. Maybe it’s the way men are about their private areas –– highly protective — that would prevent them from being able to handle child birth. Either way, it ain’t no joke.
I mean … LOOK AT WHERE MY INTESTINES ARE RIGHT NOW.
All of this makes me wonder, “Why did I want to do this again??” And truthfully, I have no idea. There is just something in me that said “It’s time for another one,” and so I said “Okay then.” And here we are.
I have things happening to my lady parts that are definitely NOT normal. I assume it’s because this is my third child. I also assume that if I chose to have a fourth, I could expect my situation to go even more downhill the next time … which is why Husband will be getting a vasectomy soon.
Husband: You know you’ll have to drive me to the doctor and bring me back home and take care of me afterwards, right??
Me: I’m aware.
Husband: And bring me breakfast in bed.
Husband: I’ll be in pain, Harmony!
Me: DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO ME ABOUT PAIN.