I think my husband might be pregnant.
Ben and I were married August 2nd. That’s right, about a week ago. Yes, we weren’t quite married when he knocked me up. I like to point out we were engaged.
Although sensitive to my emotions and needs, he’s always been a man’s man. I could see him cry and hear him moan, but he wouldn’t dream of acting like that in front of anyone else.
That all changed the day we saw the plus sign, just so happens that was Easter Sunday. Now he brags to friends about how he cried watching late-night television when a baby whale was stuck between ice caps and her two parent whales swam helplessly nearby. Never could get it out of him what happened to that poor little whale.
The day we found out that Baby X, our nickname for when baby was little more than a group of cells, was Baby Xenia, or a girl, I brought home her first pair of shoes. No, we aren’t really naming our daughter “Xenia,” I was trying to be cleaver. Cute little pink shoes that resembled my style of shoe. Ben squelched and ohhed and ahhed and then exclaimed, “those are the cutest things I have ever seen.” I had to do a double take to make sure the words weren’t coming from my sister.
He’s gained more weight than I have. He’s growing out of clothes faster than me. He constantly complains about lower back pain.
No doubt about it, my husband is pregnant. Please, someone tell me they can relate.