Disclaimer: I feel safe to post this due to the fact I don’t currently live with a currently pregnant lady. I feel this vindicates me from getting in any trouble.
Now I know, I know. Pregnancy is one of the toughest things a women can put her body through. It’s body altering, its uncomfortable at best and painful agony at its worst. I imagine it constantly feels like when you’ve had a big dinner and you can’t get breathe properly when a little person incubents your body. These ladies deserve a medal for carrying our children for 9-months.
The fact is fellas, it’s hard to live with a pregnant lady. They become short tempered, somewhat irrational, you need to be attentive to there needs at all times and keep your own tantrums to a minimum.
“Can you do me a small favour?”
This became one of my wife’s catchphrases during both pregnancies. No matter how ‘small’ Rachel says the favour will be, it’s likely going to lead to another favour and the before long I’ve got a massive list to do or it’s a massive favour disguised as several bitesize favours. Worse yet, it probably involves getting up, changing out of my sweatpants or diverting my eyes away from my phone/telly screen. Shocking really.
When I do eventually show up to offer assistance I either wade in awkwardly getting in the way or stand vacantly with the item I’ve been sent to fetch rather than using it.
My wife’s usual reaction to a hotly anticipated, live sporting event is “Do we have to watch this now?” Well, it’s live? So, yes please?
“Your pregnant wife”
Another catchphrase my wife developed whilst pregnant is to refer to herself in third person AKA “Your pregnant wife” e.g. “You’re letting your pregnant wife go shopping on her own?”, “You’re walking ahead of your pregnant wife?” or “You’re pregnant wife will get up and do it!”
I become the parental version of a runner performing regular shuttle runs to cupboards and wardrobes. I’ve adopted the same role with the kids, fetching snacks from the kitchen.
At the end of the day, the juice is definitely worth the squeeze when it comes to the (albeit minor) drawbacks of shacking up with a pregnant lady. After all, I believe I’ve said before I’m probably a (slightly) irritating person to live with myself. It is also truly amazing to watch your child grow, feel them kick and make low bass sounds on Rachel’s belly in the key of Barry White day-to-day.
I’m now off to offer myself for a multitude of small favours or simply elope before my wife reads this.
Love you Rachel!