Babies in Stomachs (Or Why I’m Glad I’m Not a Woman)
My sister is pregnant.
In fact, she has been for some time. I believe, at current timetables, she is set to squeeze out my first nephew (whom I have lovingly begun to refer to as my little nephew) by mid June. I talked to her the other day, since I have not seen her since she’s started to balloon up, and was tripping myself out just imagining the whole “creation-thang”.
The human body is one damn amazing piece of machinery. You get a cut, white blood cells rush to the scene of the crime and cover it up. You get sick, your anti-bodies fight against the disease to rid your bod of it. You cut off a leg, it grows right back! (Oh wait. That’s snakes. Or is it? I forget.)
Either way, as a man, I obviously cannot comprehend exactly what that experience must be like for a woman but I have to give props to all of them for going through the process. I don’t wake up in the morning without thanking God for not making me a woman. No make-up, no giving birth, no monthly issues, no nail-polish, no panty-hose, no high-heels, no lipstick, no psycho-insane emotional behavior…
I once had a girlfriend who broke down my apartment door after I broke up with her over the phone. I learned, or think I was supposed to learn that you don’t break up with a girl on the phone.
Nevertheless, back to the magic of birth. (I get off topic sometimes, but I’m just following the conversational tree of word association.)
So, I was talking to my sister and just finding myself emotional and amazed as she was telling me how she has to sleep at night (not on your back or your stomach, only on your side and if you want to switch sides you have to sit up, then switch sides — no rolling on your stomach) and how she’s feeling the kicking and how she can’t even comprehend that there’s a little life moving around inside of her.
It just blew me away. Stunning. I mean, I can try to comprehend and create metaphors about how taking care of my puppy is like having a kid, but when it all comes down to it, I can’t.
Did I mention I’m glad I’m not a woman?
In other news, as I look to the future — I expect a few comments from women telling me about all the great things they get to do (get drinks bought for them, chivalry is not dead, blah blah blah) in being female. So, you know what — go for it.