...It's Science.

There are days when I am absolutely amazed at the things that a pregnant woman can do.  Seriously.  This world is crawling with all manner of people: people you may dislike, with whom you may disagree, or people may get in your way.  All of that means just about nothing, though, when you're talking about a pregnant woman.  They're doing something that no man can ever do**: growing another human being inside of them.  This is not the makings of one of those "give up your bus seat" rants (although seriously, give up your bus seat.  Their backs HURT.)  It just serves to say that as long as they're doing pregnancy right, I'm amazed.

  **The exception that proves the rule.

When I say "doing pregnancy right", I'm not trying to be political.  I'm talking about the big no-nos, like not being able to kick the heroin habit for 9 months.  Those people need serious help.  ...all other pregnant women, though: in awe, and honestly, a little jealous.  You should be too.

When you're pregnant (and I suppose depending on how you conceptualize it, the couple is pregnant, not just the woman), I've learned that the shift in hormones in the female partner causes some very strange science to take place.  Essentially what happens is (and again, this is science; don't question it) the embryo causes the woman's uterus to shift, then invert infinitely upon itself.  At this point, the uterus actually repositions onto another plane and alters its relationship with both space and time, becoming a black hole inside of what you thought was your normal, loving wife.  (Doctors know about this and lie to you.  That's why health insurance costs so much.)  Your wife's head becomes the event horizon, into which food and rational thought go in, but never come out.

...pregnant.

Simultaneously, your wife's body begins to react to the massive hormonal changes taking place.  Every tear, yelp, scream, cough, laugh, etc., that manages to escape her body actually disperses into the atmosphere in your home, and like radon gas, will significantly alter your existence with prolonged exposure.  These dispersed molecules will land on your skin and magnetize; because of this magnetization, both of you will begin to attract, in a large and unstoppable quantity... THE OPINIONS OF OTHERS.

  ...got someone pregnant.

I have found, through extensive observational research, that all human beings can be classified into six distinct and independent categories:

1. Women who have already begun to breed.
2. Women who have not yet begun to breed.
3. Men who have been successful fertilizers.
4. Men who have not been successful fertilizers (depending on the perspective, they're the successful ones.)
5. Nuns.
6. Justin Bieber.

All of these individuals contribute to the social system in their own way, and there is some movement among the ranks.  Women who have not yet begun to breed can quite easily jump into the other column; men obviously can as well.  Conversely, the nuns are pretty much set where they are, and I think we can all agree that we will do our part to make sure that Justin Bieber stays stationary as well.  There does appear to be a rite of passage that is associated with modifying one's position though... and hence, the opinion-magnet.

  

As a bit of a social scientist, I actually find it quite interesting to hear people's varying opinions on how to raise their children.  As I intimated earlier, I will pretty much get behind anyone's personal philosophy so long as it is supported by medical science.  I can definitely respect the various factors that play into the decisions that people make.  Cloth diapers versus disposable?  Hey, if you don't mind scooping poop and throwing stained fabric into your washing machine, go for it.  Making your own organic food versus buying the jars?  If you've got the time to process a week's worth of peas into mush, more power to you.  Bottle-feeding versus breast-feeding?  ...you know what, I don't have boobs, so I'm not going to even make a joke here.  I've even heard of people making their own cough drops for their children.  I don't exactly have a lot of faith in my skills as a home chemist, so I'll probably reach for the Ricola, but again: if you're safe, I'm not going to debate you.

  

I think part of the reason that new parents feel so overwhelmed is the fact that they're being bombarded with information from every possible angle almost all of the time.  To me, being pregnant with your first child is a lot like going to your first week of school in first grade (no, not kindergarten.  That's fun.)  You put on your little empty backpack and most likely a note pinned to your chest identifying your room number and teacher, and you enter the school looking around for any clue of where to go and what to do.  This signifies to all of the 5th graders (err, people who already have kids) that you are the fresh meat.  They'll fill your head with all sorts of stuff: why your teacher will be the worst, that this school doesn't believe in recess, that you don't need to learn multiplication tables but you do need to learn cursive... all of it.  So, you wander through the first couple of days not really knowing anyone, and if you do recognize one of the older kids that maybe lives in your neighborhood, they'll be hanging out with their "school friends", because you're on their turf now.

  

Definitely a first-time parent.

  

Don't believe me?  Go into any baby product store, stand 20 feet from the entrance, and look at the faces of the people walking in.  You will notice the experience and military precision of those with a brood in tow ("We're here for a box of diapers and a forehead thermometer!  In, out; 30 seconds!  Move!  Move!"), and the naïveté of the newly impregnated ("...What is this?!?  Does it go inside the baby??  Honey, do we need this?  ...What the heck is a breast pad?").  

  

I remember a lot about my childhood.  I didn't exactly walk uphill both ways in 3 feet of snow to a one room schoolhouse every day, but I also didn't grow up in front of an iPad either.  You know how I learned about electricity?  I put shiny things into an electrical socket.  Learn by doing, my friends; learn by doing.  ...and it wasn't that my parents were inattentive.  I just wanted to know what was behind all those plastic covers on the electrical outlets.  My point is, I'm pretty sure my parents were not given an entire aisle dedicated solely to different digital thermometers for bathwater.

  

They're on there for a reason, Tim.

  

I'm very torn about the people that work in these stores.  It seems to me that they are all well-intentioned, and they are certainly all very polite and put up with more crap than a sewage plant.  I just don't know how much stock I can put into the opinion of a 16-year-old part-timer when I ask the all important, fact gathering questions that I have been trained to ask: "Does it work?  Is it worth it?  ...Is there a cheaper model?"  I fear that their role, when it boils down to it, is the same as in any other store.  That role is salesman.

  

I lost my faith in the baby product business on an exploratory trip to one such store early on in our pregnancy, as we began looking at the wide variety of items that we may actually need to buy.  There will most assuredly be an entire post dedicated to this at a later date, but there was definitely one item that did it for me.  At the risk of a lawsuit, I will not mention their product by name... but I will link a video of someone using it below.  WARNING: engage your gag reflex.

  

The girl working in the store insisted that I would need a way to clear the mucous from my baby's nose.  I agreed.  When I asked for a bulb syringe though, she looked at me like I had an arm growing out of my butt.  She directed me instead to [product I will not use], and informed me that it was what everyone was now using (NOTE: essentially, "what all the cool kids are doing."  Baby store peer pressure, man.)  Has anyone ever changed the water in a large fishtank, or perhaps siphoned gas out of a friend's/stranger's car?  Ok.  Imagine that instead of a fishtank or car, you have... YOUR BABY'S FACE.  That's right.  Instead of using a simple device like our parents, our grandparents, and every medical provider on this earth, someone decided to market what is essentially the weirdest CrazyStraw ever, with one end in your kid's face-hole and the other end in your mouth.  You literally suck out their boogers.  Don't believe me?  Here's one very brave young dad with his disbelieving friend working the camera:

(Mobile readers, click here... if you dare.)

  

I'm sorry, BGA.  I love you, but no.  Not happening.  I was of course assured by the young sales associate that there was a package of filters available to go into the mouthpiece... they were available in boxes of 45, and I should probably stock up, since I would need at least TWO of these devices.  You know, one for the home and one for the diaper bag.  "Lady," I said, "No offense, but I will need exactly ZERO of these contraptions.  ...because I am not sucking boogers out of my daughter's face with my mouth."  Again, BGA, if you read this years from now, I apologize that I am being so uncompromising on this.  Show me the error of my ways, and come suck the snot out of my face when I get too old to blow my own nose.  ...yeah, didn't think so.

  

So all kidding aside, most of you reading this are getting it linked through social media, and obviously (hopefully) know that although I have a great deal of fun at the expense of my wife, I really do love her dearly, and my japes and jokes are all out of affection.  As we speak, I am standing in our bedroom typing this, because she has actually managed to fall asleep, and I'm not dumb enough to go anywhere near her if she's actually resting, lest I wake her.  She really is a trooper, and continues to blow me away with how well she is handling all of this.  I can't even begin to imagine what this whole process is doing to her, emotionally, mentally, and physically; after all, it can't be easy to grow a black hole.