Lately, my wife has been subtly hinting at how she’d like to have another child. While she never comes right out and says it, there are distinct moments when it is obvious that another kid could be on the horizon. I’ve barely learned how to care for one child and already my wife alludes to the next. I do absolutely nothing to promote this behavior. It is quite obvious that I’m unable to care for myself and another life form adequately which puzzles me as to why she would desire yet another small, needy creature living with us. Discouraging her endeavors to procreate yet again is not my game. I’m usually a very uplifting and positive person as anyone who reads this site can clearly see. However, I believe that it is important to routinely remind my significant other of all the physical hardship that transpired during her pregnancy in order to remind her of the immense toll pregnancy takes on the female body. Through this, I hope to illustrate to her exactly why she might want to put a little more thought into the idea of birthing another human.
When my wife was pregnant, she had intense morning sickness. Not merely the occasional vomiting and cramps, but severe, acute pain that echoed through the hallways of our studio estate and probably woke up those fortunate enough to live next door to us as well. Like any great husband would do, I would force myself out of bed and make sure she was ok. I would bring a glass of water but there was not really anything more I could do. At a certain point, it actually became more beneficial for her to just sleep on the floor of the bathroom but I would never have suggested that at the time. Even now as I write this I know it likely won’t end well for me if I decide to come out of hiding after this post settles down.
Several years ago, while my wife and I were enjoying the company of some friends, she thought it would be fun to drink an entire box of wine by herself. While I commended her efforts and always will, a 90lb female simply shouldn’t undertake such a challenge. I would have stopped her sooner but I’m a supportive husband and I simply cannot just quash her goals like that. We spent most of the next day at home, her laying over the side of the couch on the precipice of near death, and I attempting to stave off said death by doing the only thing that made sense, offering her more wine. She has never consumed Franzia again since that night. I’m repeatedly forced to remind her of how uncomfortable her morning sickness was, even worse than the time she virtually went comatose over an entire box of wine.
A few years back, an epidemic referred to as “Swine Flu” became the next great health scare in America. Americans are notorious for blowing things out of proportion when it comes to medical diseases, especially if the root cause can be traced to an animal in any third world or eastern nation. Swine flu was all the rage for America and awesomely enough, it was all the rage in my own home, as my wife was the lucky recipient of the dreaded H1N1 flu virus. My superhuman immune system kept me safe from her condition, but I was forced to stay and care for her which was arguably worse than actually having the virus myself. For days she laid doormant in a semi-conscious state that included extended periods of anguish bound together my momentary stretches of sleep. It was a memorable time for both of us. However, when she now envisions yet another baby emerging from her vagina, I’m repeatedly forced to remind her of how uncomfortable her morning sickness was, even worse than the time she had Swine Flu.
By bringing up these moments of strife in our past, I hope to convey to my wife that her physical discomfort by way of morning sickness far surpassed every other medical episode in the history of our relationship. I continually remind her that while I am supportive of her wishes, I strongly encourage contracting H1N1 again and attempting to kill a box of wine solo before she relives the agony of another bout of morning sickness. There are far more simplistic and temporary ways to put your body through intentional misery without resorting to pregnancy.