Your Newly Pregnant Body: For Dads
Dad Rant: Pregnancy Rant from Prego Man Owen
The plan was simple: Make a man experience pregnancy for twenty-four hours. I was chosen among the DadLabs dads for my empathic skills and adventurous spirit-plus the other guys are stronger than me.
To make the experiment a success, we invested in an Empathy Belly: thirty-five pounds of metal, sand, and water. With a bloated water belly filled with lead balls to simulate a baby’s kicks, a heavy sand bag pressed against my bladder, and straps wrapped around my chest to constrict my breathing, the whole thing made me feel thick into my third trimester. But it didn’t stop with the suit. Pregnant women often complain of swollen feet and morning sickness, so I was given shoes two sizes too small and a healthy dose of Ipecac.
All this, and no beer. Pregnancy can really suck. For twenty-four hours I lived the life of a pregnant man: I slept horribly, I threw up, I had trouble getting through doors, I had to be the designated driver on a night on the town-all while toting a faux-baby in my protruding belly.
What did I learn?
1. It takes a lot of work to build another human inside your body. Having your own body expand and reconfigure affects every part of your day. There was never a moment, not even while sleeping, when I forgot my fake love child. And if I was even tempted to forget, the effort of using a toilet, climbing out of a car, or reaching for a glass quickly reminded me of my condition. I have a new
admiration for the wonderful, and wonderfully challenging, journey of pregnancy.
2. There’s something kind of sweet about the struggle.
By the time a child is born, the mother and baby have been through a hell of a lot together. They’ve had new hormones playing hopscotch with their brains, they’ve shared meals, they’ve both experienced the feeling of becoming increasingly larger in a limited space. They have tracked a nine-month marathon together, and I can only guess that a certain intimate commiseration develops.
At the stroke of hour 25, I gladly removed my pinching shoes, stripped off my Empathy Suit, and popped open a beer. I was giddy to be a non-pregnant male again. But as I leaned back comfortably, sipping my second beer, I missed the constant presence of my unborn pseudo-fetus . . . maybe just a little.
