The Male of the Species

I have often found it sort of sad that my dear, sweet husband (who is otherwise there for me at every turn) just seems to check out during my pregnancies.  I thought, the first time, that it was because he was afraid of fatherhood.  He confirmed as much in a few different conversations we'd had.  However, I thought maybe this time (now that he's conquered "fatherhood" quite well) he'd be a little more excited about pregnancy number two and the impending birth of a son.

Turns out, men tend to see their pregnant wives in a whole different way.  Pregnancy is like a "Keep Off the Grass" sign to the men.  My husband describes it as a feeling of waiting to have his wife back.  Now, while he is thrilled and excited about the birth of his second child and knows full well he can rock being a superdad a second time, he is not excited to know about every inner working of my changing body, the growth of our boy, if that distortion on my belly is an elbow or a knee, the exact expansion rate of my ribcage, how our son's head is pressing on my bladder, or that he has relentless hiccups that keep me up at night.

It's a perspective issue.  We mommies see the pregnancy as a miracle unto itself.  The changes our bodies undergo to support the growing life inside us, the way we were perfectly formed to carry out the mission of developing and giving birth to a new life, the way we were built to nurture this new life with our perfectly formulated, natural, wholesome milk supply, and so on.

To daddies, the true miracle begins after the baby has entered the outside world.  To them, it's a miracle that such a tiny thing will grow to be a real person someday.  It's a miracle that his wife has done such an amazing thing as childbirth.  It's a miracle that someday she'll look like her old self (God-willing, anyway).  It's a miracle that, despite all the hustle-bustle that often occurs after birth (especially in a hospital), that he can't focus on anything but that tiny little baby and his radiant wife, who is now a mother (and this reminds him that he is a FATHER!!).  And, of course, it's a miracle to the new daddy that he is able to function with so little sleep once baby and mommy come home with him!

I don't feel so sad about it now.  I understand that men see pregnancy and childbirth as secret clubs for women, and that no matter how much we try to make them a part of the whole process, all they really want to do is be present, holding our hands, telling us we're doing great (while simultaneously wondering if he's doing great), secretly wondering if we're in agonizing pain and why he can't make it better, and ultimately kissing us and holding their progeny in complete awe.

The miracle and the mystery is for us mommies to enjoy.