For a Girl Like You

See what I did there?

I’ve been absent too. As Ms says, it’s not for lack of things to do and say. Except that it is in a way. Most of what’s happened in the last few weeks is building on what came before.

Ms has gotten progressively more vulnerable to cheetah attack.

I’ve done a few things more often than I expected I ever would, like “hanging blinds” and “picking shit up off the floor after Ms dropped it but still needs it.” 

I’m driving a lot. Which is good, because I enjoy driving Ms’ car (a convenient result of a parking geometry conundrum). 

I’ve assembled various furniture items.

I’ve installed car seats. 

I’ve attained a very close and personal connection with the Amazon delivery drivers.

A note on that: thank you. It’s likely most of you who gave us stuff will never see this (and you’ve been thanked personally anyway), but … thank you. Ms and I didn’t do any registry for our wedding because our problem was—is—too much stuff, not a shortage, and neither of us is the “throw out all the old stuff just to get new stuff” person. So it’s been a pleasant revelation just how endlessly kind people are since we did have a baby registry (because we had zero baby equipment). People have been … so generous. So unbelievably generous.

And it’s not just the stuff that comes in boxes. People have given us recipes for magic baby foods. People have handed down baby clothes. People have given us babysitting coupons. It’s wonderful. I’m writing this with zero sarcasm or irony: people don’t suck.

I’m sure there’s an element of “oh you poor, poor dears you don’t know what’s coming” as well. Heh.

Anyway, getting back on track, yes, I’ve done quite a lot in the last few weeks. I say that not to pat myself on the back, but to note that it’s just … it’s all stuff you’d expect to do when equipping a home for a baby. And, as far as documenting Ms’ trials, hell, the third trimester is without a doubt the trimester that most accurately and consistently adheres to the pregnancy stereotypes, so there’s not much to report there either. 

No, the one thing I’ve done that I’ll note that I’m proud of I did today. Ms was feeling like crap. Neil Peart could’ve drummed out a solo on her belly it was so tight (this is on top of the contractions). She was, literally, moaning and swaying in a chair in the kitchen (she was going to help me make some food). So I said, “Hey, you want to try an experiment?” She said yes. So we put on her shoes and we walked laps of the back yard. She started to perk up a bit. So I got her talking about something that I knew she’d feel strongly about. By the end of it, from where I was standing anyway, she seemed to be more or less back to normal. 

The point? Partners of pregnant people need to get very good at pregnant person hacking. Pay attention to what they need and the effects that things have on them. It’s a toolkit. Your toolkit may not be my toolkit, but you need a toolkit. And notice I didn’t say “Listen to what they need.” Don’t do that. Or at least don’t only do that. You’ve got to watch, listen, and apply. Occasionally you have to give orders. More often you have to try to set up situations that will result in comfort for your mate, situations that your mate may not initially think she needs or wants. (Don’t read the next sentence, Ms.) I expect in the next few days as we get closer to launch, I’ll have to apply the same rules—watch, listen, and apply—when Ms is cranky. 

And I want to make something clear. I haven’t suddenly turned into a 1950s husband, nor has Ms turned into a 1950s wife. It’s just that whatever crazy shit is happening in her uterus means that she needs to offload some things on me. It’s different than what we’re used to, but it’s also completely understandable.

One last thing: I haven’t tried to pamper Ms completely, take away all her responsibilities, etc. It’s convenient for me, in a way, because I’m not having to do all the chores around the house. But I swear as I sit here that that’s not my motive. Rather, I’m pretty sure that Ms would get cranky and bored and start gnawing on the furniture if she didn’t have stuff to do. This may not apply to your pregnant person, but it seems to apply to mine. (Ms, if I’m wrong, please let me know.)

Anyway, we’re close. The thing is about to become a him. It’s exciting. And the wait is excruciating … for ME, and I’m not the one growing him!