Oh hell, apparently I’m pregnant too. My wife and daughter are gonna freak.
Rant away. It’s horribly uncomfortable, and we don’t get nearly enough credit for doing it. So, on behalf of the human race: Thank you!
I just had an hour long breakdown over a clogged toilet. I’d like my level-headedness back, please.
Reading this thread makes me more grateful than ever to my wife. She worked until two weeks before delivering our first and then switched jobs to being a mother, permanently.
We nearly had Irish twins (14 months apart) and then had a third later when she was 40.
Zero drugs, some grunts and groans but never a scream and after the deliveries she nursed them which got me off midnight bottle patrol.
We were talking about kids the other day and agreed we’d never have the energy to go through raising them again. They’re great, but giving birth is just the start.
You haven’t lived until on the same Saturday you take kid(s) to:
Two swimming lessons
A soccer game
Two birthday parties
and a music recital.
Rinse and repeat, with minor variations, nearly every Saturday September through May. For about ten years.
Just now had to leave the house to prevent myself from killing my husband. I was complaining about heartburn and asked him for a cup of milk. As he was getting it for me he asked me what we were fixing the kids for dinner. I told him I was in too much pain to think about it right now
He said “you are a mother and sometimes you just have to get over it and stop thinking about yourself”. I blew up. I told him it was only 4:30 and I had time to worry about dinner later and I will not stop thinking about myself. I grabbed my car keys and purse and drove around for 15 min. When I got back he was cleaning the living room. I said nothing and went in the kitchen and made sandwiches for the kids for dinner got my own damn glass of milk and am now in my bedroom still seething and saying nothing
He’s lucky he’s alive. :eek:
I’m sure it was a momentary lapse!
So, this tale is entirely apocryphal (meaning no one knows if it’s true or not) but at moments like these, it’s nice and cathartic…
The story goes that in some African Tribal culture, when a woman goes into labor, she goes into a special birthing hut. Her wrists are tied together with a rope or vine. While she labors, she pulls against the rope to steady herself, focus her energy and channel her pain.
The rope is fed up over the top of the birthing hut wall and down the other side…where it’s tied around her husband’s scrotum.
I’m just popping in to gloat. I just had our second kid and I never ever have to be pregnant again in my whole life. It is a beautiful feeling.
Just busting chops because you guys can’t kick me from here :-D. Seriously: here’s to easy pregnancies and easy deliveries all round, and to that beautiful moment when you realise you can sleep on your stomach if you want.
:eek: At least he didn’t say “What are YOU fixing the kids for dinner?”!
. . . By “until” you meant to say “if,” yes?
Haven’t heard that story, but I have heard about a culture where the husband has to hang upside-down from a tree branch for the duration of his wife’s labor.
So the husband and I had makeup relations last night. Relations during pregnancy is always an interesting experience. :rolleyes:This morning I’ve been feeling anxious, last night it was really hard for me to sleep because I was having cramps, and this morning I’m having loose bowel movements. This could all just be another false alarm or the stress of the fight last night and then the stimulating makeup relations may have done started something. We shall see. :Eek:
sorry for the TMI 
And me more grateful than ever to my Y chromosome.
When I was pregnant, I wished humans were marsupials. Splitting like amoebas would be even better, though.
I don’t think I could vote to convict you for anything you did to him after he said that, if I were on that jury…
Loved every minute of being pregnant with my (now 9.5 year old) son.
Until month seven when we moved to Ontario from BC and our car died in the mountains and we had just enough money to get Greyhound tickets home. I was wearing Doc Marten shoes and I had muffin-top ankles.
Then we got to Ontario and other than my (ex)husband fighting with my parents it wasn’t so bad. We got our own slum hovel (cockroaches came out the third night) and the husband found a part time job.
It was northern Ontario and November and I was huge. Im a big gal at the best of times and 8 months pregnant is not the best of times. I was roasting hot in the apartment and freezing cold when I went out (I wore a gigantic sweatshirt with seams cut up the sides under my enormous raincoat) My long limbed restless son kicked me in the bladder almost constantly and I craved (to the point of addiction) tinned pears in heavy syrup. We didn’t have a shower and my hair one day matted at the back with a knot the size of my fist. My bed was on the floor and my water broke in an antique rocking chair (I found my pants and underwear a month later when we got home from various hospitals, still nasty…no husband did not do laundry in a month why do you ask?)
Hated every minute from 7 months to the day my son was born. Most of it is a vague memory, but that long limbed 9 year old is the joy of my life.
This too will pass.
So I went to my OB appointment this morning and I already one centimeter dilated. So it really is any day now! I just gotta get through the night because that’s the day I’m giving a training at work. The upside is the upside is if I didn’t go into labor during training it would make it very memorable
I hate when men say they “wish” they could be pregnant and if it were them they would not complain so much.
My 5 year old son told me yesterday that he wishes he could “born a baby” because he wants to be the one that hurts and not his wife. I was both proud and horrified that he thought about that.
A five year-old said that? He knows too much! 