There have been an awful lot of newborns in my social circles lately. Which means that now there’s a physical timeline that exists as proof of when some of my friends were getting laid, 9 months prior. Drinks all around!
I could allude to the age-old, “…you know you’re getting older when..” but this post isn’t about that. I’m full throttle on my way to 30 and can’t wait.
So what are we talking about today?
A great irrational fear of mine is pregnancy. And I don’t mean getting some damsel pregnant in a fit of passion and poor planning. No, I mean actually being pregnant.
The first obvious problem with that is: I’m a guy.
So realistically getting pregnant myself is all but off the table. But as I mentioned before, it’s one of my great irrational fears. Unburdened by logic or reason or any kind of empirical thought process, the fear of pregnancy is enough to stir me from the boon of sleep on a cold night where I’ve dreamt of pushing a little human mother fucker out of my fictional mud gun.
Am I the only guy who’s had a dream about being pregnant? I wonder?
No but seriously, we’re talking about a white hot terror. The kind that makes the back of your neck hot and achy.
Now I’m sure there’s a conceptual divide that keeps me from grasping the full picture of what it’s like to have a baby, and the mother-child bond that makes it all worth it in the end. Because heck, I’ll never actually have to go through it. But how is this not number 2 on women’s greatest fear? Behind death, maybe?
For the life of me I cannot figure out how there are seven billion people in the world when I’ve only heard of the horrors that go on after the contractions start.
And that’s skipping way ahead.
Like first things first, the oh shit! moment when you find out you’re pregnant. So now you have to create some sort of mental vin diagram on how fit you are to be a parent and! how fit homeboy (who got you pregnant) is to be a father. What get’s me is that even when couples are trying to have a kid it’s still a surprise.
But then moving on, there’s the physical manifestation of a countdown growing inside of you. And it’s not like you can drink or have a cigarette or do anything fun t0 balm the anxiety of weight gain or what might be the worst pain you’ll ever experience, which lies ahead.
And what of that pain?
Most people have never heard someone scream in agonizing pain. And I don’t mean stubbing your toe on the couch.
I mean the “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”
“OOH GOD NNHHHMMMMMM!!!!” kind of pain where you’re drooling and crying and no real tears are even being formed. The type that might come from breaking a femur, or, I don’t know, pushing a human being out of your lower half?
I’ve always admired the f-word because of it’s malleable conceptual ability. Truly one of the greatest inventions in the advent of language. It’s a word that can be used synonymously with sex; caring; not caring; a good person; a bad person. It’s an expletive and a casual. And even a word as versatile as the f-bomb fails in fucking comparison.
I know mates who almost passed out just because they were looking in the wrong place of the process. We’re talking about grown men about to faint just from watching.
But I digress.
Of course that’s just me on the outside looking in. Because the truth is, not only do the gals go through it, some of them even re-up and go for seconds and thirds. Meanwhile, I haven’t had a physical in over six years because the last time I went they took a blood sample and I’m afraid of needles.
It makes me feel bad for wanting to have kids knowing that I literally have to do nothing, except have a good time in the beginning.
But this isn’t even like some ode or admiration of women. Just a general confusion; can women just choose to feel fear? Do women actually feel pain?
I think I’d have a full mental meltdown if I got pregnant. And assuming I made it through, I’d have PTSD afterward. Like I’ve had food poisoning that made me wish the sun would just explode and kill us all.
But I guess it’s why we are what we are and why we are not what we are not.