So this is week, today officially, is week fifteen. There have been few changes since last we spoke. Oh wait: I think we had sex a couple of times! The wife’s delicate condition has, over the last three weeks, become significantly less delicate and no longer does the travesty of chicken make her cry or is her libido a resident of Fraggle Rock.
The first trimester is no joke people.
Maybe pregnancy gets a bad rap, though. The other day I was telling a dude about how Val was complaining about something legitimately annoying — like getting stung by a bee, or being trapped in an elevator with a flatulent Pauly Shore — and the guy was like “But that is because she is pregnant right?” What!? Perhaps not all of pregnancy is like that painting in Good Will Hunting: alone, awash in a stormy ocean of “feelings” and “emotions.” I don’t want to get ahead of myself, knowing nothing about the mythical Third Trimester, but the second trimester is like this plush oasis on the edge of the petulant and barren first trimester.
Now I would like to talk about two different things.
Genetical dilemma
At some point during HW’s continued development INSIDE THE CONFINES OF MY WIFE we can elect for some voodoo witchdoctor procedures that will deduce his/her genetic make up. Actually, I’m not sure what they deduce, but you end up with a report of whether your nascent offspring has Abraham Lincoln Disease or some equally terrible affliction. Do you get the tests done and live with knowing your child has some debilitating condition? Can you live with not knowing? Also the tests have a high rate of false positives. Also this graph terrifies me.
Honestly, I don’t care either way and have left the decision up to Val. At this point she is against having the tests done.
Paternal prejudice
My mom gave me a copy of Parenting Magazine to which I responded with “I’m too young for that!” to which, in turn, she responded with a critical glare. At the top of the magazine is their, I guess, motto: “What Matters to Moms.” How irritating is that? I realize that “What Matters to Dads” isn’t alliterative but seriously people when did fathers stop being parents? PROPAGATING OPPRESSIVE STEREOTYPES. I’ll probably end up ranting about this quite a bit. Get excited.
Twelve weeks (really eight, but, you know, they spot you four) in to the Great Pregnancy of Two Thousand and Eight and we’ve crossed into the Second Trimester. They say pregnancy takes 38 weeks or three trimesters. 38 is a number not divisible by three which consequently pisses me off. Why would your base unit of pregnancy progress not line up nicely with a Gregorian calendar? Annoying.
So here we are heading into week thirteen — as of Wednesday — and the supposed glory of the second trimester. It is obviously now time turn back the dried yellowed pages of time and analyze the passing of this the first trimester. Watch out, it may get personal.
Libido
First things first gents. The onset of The Pregnancy brings with it many symptoms. Some of which may inclued an increase in appetite, a loss of appetite, constipation, diarrhea , yin, and sometimes yang. One symptom that They never tell you about is a severe loss of libido aka SEXUAL DRIVE.
Just to clarify: my libido is unaffected in anyway (fyi, ladies!).
I hear that across the river Jordan, in the promised land of The Second Trimester, sex flows like wine. Unlike now. Where it does not flow. In any sort of way or manner.
Food
I’ve been organizing a home-based, grass roots, armed resistance against eating unhealthy and expensively. I envisioned pregnancy as a vast German offensive, swiftly dividing, encircling, and, ultimately, destroying all of my culinary attempts to safely feed our new bulge (aka HW). Luckily, it hasn’t been nearly that bad. I think Val has only had two intense cravings that have each lasted about a week: salsa and tangy foods. Salsa was easy and the tangy food thing was placated with Granny Smith apples.
There have been, however, foods that incite such hatred that the mere mention is enough to have your eyes put out and tongue cut off. Currently those foods include: cumin and … chicken? WTF! Chicken! Like, everything is made from chicken. Luckily chicken seems to be working its way back into Val’s good graces. But seriously, people, what is cumin like? Is it still delicious? I bet it is.
Mood swings
Pregnant women are crazy! Ho ho ho! Life is just like Everyone Loves Raymond! Thus far I think the number of instances where I was left utterly befuddled after an emotional encounter with the wife total two. The first time I was making a chicken salad and it made her cry. Honestly. The other time MattWhite made her cry by telling her that she “was being overly sensitive for two now.” That turned out to be a fatal maneuver — the funeral will be held later this week.
Other than that things have been copacetic.
—
I’m not sure the entire enormity of the situation has fully sunk in — in fact I’m sure it won’t until T-0. But until that fateful day we remain optimistic and in good spirits.
