Christina is now four months pregnant; far beyond the last update concerning the journey of my sperm. I didn’t know what these first few months would hold, but I have learned a lot already. On two occasions we have gone to hear the baby’s heartbeat. These visits were my first experiences at an OBGYN office – arguably the most inhospitable place on earth for men. Going to the gynecologists’ office as a man is like going to a bridal shower with pap smear party favors. I was given dirty looks from the receptionists, the waiting patients, the nurses, and the doctor who did the ultrasound – as if I were defiling their feminine sanctuary. All the men in the building simply stared at the wall in fear; this was made difficult by the fact that all the walls were covered with posters advertising incontinence pads. Maybe one of the weirdest things about being in the OB office is the fact that all the pregnant women formed a dominance hierarchy.
This hierarchy – like most things in the feminine world – was communicated through passive aggressiveness. While staring at the incontinence poster, I overheard a conversation between two pregnant women. The first pregnant woman was midway through her term with just a moderate amount of belly. The second pregnant woman was due at any moment and looked as if she were carrying triplets. Every time the smaller pregnant woman said something about her pregnancy, the bigger lady would one-up her…
“I have felt some movement, and I have had some cramping.”
“Ha, you think that is movement, my kid was like MC Hammer last night…I haven’t had a day without my whole body feeling like it was run over by a bus.”
“Well, I have had difficulty sleeping, and my doctor says I need to take a medication for low thyroid.”
“Ha, I haven’t slept for three months! I have anemia, constipation, and cravings for the discontinued McRib.”
The smaller pregnant woman eventually demured and admitted defeat. This process is highlighted further by the clothes worn by pregnant women. Christina has a tiny bump now that looks like she is bloated – not something she likes to hear. In an attempt to climb the dominance ladder, Christina has started to wear tight shirts with pronounced stripes. All fat people know that striped shirts are of the devil – something I avoided like the plague when I was a plump boy shopping in the Husky Section of JcPenny. For a pregnant woman of 16 weeks, a striped shirt is like stuffing a preteen bra with toilet paper – an ideal optical illusion.
The striped shirt is just a segway to the ultimate dominance of the pregnant woman and the reason why all pregnant women bring their men to the ultrasound. Let’s bring it back to the OB visit; I am still staring at the incontinence poster, Christina is wearing the striped shirt and has both hands on her stomach. I look around the room, and most of the women are in the same position – some wearing even tighter outfits that make stripes look like child’s play. Christina gives me a look, and she takes my hands and puts it on her belly. I start to rub her stomach, and at that moment I realize I am just a pawn in a dangerous game. All the women around me have a scorn expression on their faces and are giving their husband’s the evil eye. A husband rubbing his wife’s pregnant belly is the dominance equivalent of a young man getting on his knee during the proposal – suffice it to say, Christina was pounding her chest in triumph. Just then, however, the large pregnant women stepped past us…
“It’s so nice that your husband is here with you and he wants to rub your belly. My husband is deployed to Iraq…he’ll miss the child’s birth.”
Around and around we go – who will win no one knows. Here’s to the next four months of dominance positioning and many more life lessons.
PS – The baby’s heart is healthy and everything seems to be going well. Please keep us in your prayers.