by Grace McEvoy

Due to hormonal changes, pregnancy is among other things a very inarticulate time in a woman's life. It is common for women to become forgetful and scatter-brained, finding it difficult to form sentences and express ideas clearly. I am having this experience and it seems like my neurons are being forced to fire through some kind of viscous prenatal goo. Sometimes I just avoid conversation altogether and yet I have agreed to write about what it is like to be pregnant.

Harold and I are having a baby next month. The first indication that I was with child was at dinner last August when Harold pointed out that I was eating more than usual, and how good it was because in his estimation I don't normally eat enough. I thought nothing of it. He mentioned that and other increases several times over the next couple of weeks and I continued to think nothing of it. Even after I told him I was feeling sick to my stomach and he told me I was pregnant for the fourth or fifth time, I still didn't think so. So much for women's intuition. It finally clicked that Sunday afternoon of my first nauseous episode when I realized that I felt sick and I really wanted some spaghetti at the same time. I had a bowl of cereal. I suddenly felt fine. I decided to take a home pregnancy test. The test takes a few agonizing minutes, which I spent watching a news program and paying little attention to what they were saying. I waited an extra few minutes to make sure it was good and done. Then with a great deal of trepidation, anticipation, and bravery, I walked back to the bathroom. I hesitated at the door. What if it is. What if it isn't. I managed to look at the test and, gasping, I put my hand over my mouth. Two pink lines, oh my God. What does that mean? I forgot. I had to read the directions again. Two pink lines, one vertical and one horizontal, means the test is positive. I paced around the living room for a while. I'm a photographer so I went and got my camera. I put the stick test on the bathroom floor and took a couple of pictures of it. I put the camera on self-time and took a couple of pictures of myself. They are very fuzzy photographs.

I have been through many of the typical things pregnant women go through. Backaches, morning sickness, wayward emotions, and joyful anticipation. I am taking prenatal yoga and aerobics classes, which are a great help with back pain and edema. We are taking childbirth classes where we see videos of women giving birth every week. They used to make me cry but I am getting tough. We are learning labor positions and breast feeding techniques. The apartment is filling up with baby things and there are books and magazines about childbirth and parenthood taking up surfaces. We are investigating childcare and pediatricians and thinking of new ways to have a social life when we become parents. I am ready for this to happen.

With four weeks to go until my due date the most challenging part of pregnancy is upon me. Here are some facts. I have gained 35 pounds, my belly is 39 inches around, I have gone from a size B to a size D bra and I do not recognize my butt as my own. The baby grows the most during the last trimester. A belly I thought could not possibly get any bigger is expanding every day. The burden is getting to be too much. My feet and hands are swelling. I have changed some responsibilities at work to cut down on standing up. Sleep has become a challenge because of the extra weight. It feels as though I am being pushed down into the bed and I keep flipping from side to side and putting pillows here and there and waking Harold to ask him to move over and give me a little more room. Getting out of bed requires scooting belly first to the edge of the bed and then bringing my legs around to the floor. I hold on to the night stand until I can stand up straight and walk like a duck to the bathroom.

The baby's limbs are much more defined now and the movement is more dramatic. I can watch a foot or an elbow or knee pass across my belly and I can see that this child is much bigger now. As its quarters close in, the baby is becoming squirmy and I sense it is ready to come out and join the rest of us. Because Harold seems to inspire so much movement and activity, I think the baby really likes its daddy. It might be all the kissing, rubbing, and pushing on my belly but even Harold's hand just resting there sets off a great deal of response. They play a little game when a body part is poking out on my tummy, Harold pushes it and the baby moves it and Harold pushes it again and it moves again and so on. They already have a good relationship.

At this point I am not at all anxious, just very curious and excited and very ready for this to happen.

Harold's thoughts

Well, my first thought was that I'd let Grace write this one and then I'd reply in the May issue, after our little one has arrived. More thought moved me to just put a little tag on Grace's piece.

Truth is, I have a hard time meeting my own deadline when things are normal for me. Assuming that I will have the time (or interest) to meet a writing deadline two weeks after I've become a dad for the first time seemed like folly. Even now, just trying to do a couple hundred words on the biggest even in my young life -- father-to-be-hood -- just inspires scrambled sentences and long-winded monologues.

The thing is, the scrambled sentences and over-verbose explanations are fueled by the deepest connection to my heart as I have ever felt. I am excited and scared and happy and scared and serious and scared and ready to embark on the most significant phase of adulthood as I've yet experienced.

As soon as we found out that Grace was pregnant, I started telling everyone that WE are pregnant.

What have I learned so far?

Men, make no mistake, WE don't get pregnant. Our women do. There is no way on earth that the average guy could handle the enormous changes -- emotional, physical, spiritual -- that women are hardwired to handle. We couldn't cut it, no way, nope, not at all.

If you believe in a God, know that your God had some inside information on that one.

And if you do have a God, give lots of thanks for mothers. We would not be here without them.

[Hayes McMillan was born at 12:50am on 19 April 1998: 20 and a half inches, 7 pounds, 14 ounces of all blues!]