So the little white stork is going to be visiting myself and my wife Becky in a few months. I must say that it is going to be an amazing ride and DA suggested I submit some pieces to share what Iâ€™m going through. Believe it or not Iâ€™ve already experienced one of the finer aspects of your wife having a babyâ€¦ sympathy pains. Iâ€™ve felt nauseous, bloated, and have had tender breasts on more than one occasion. Itâ€™s not a pretty picture in any oneâ€™s book, but Iâ€™m not really going to discuss that today.
Iâ€™m going to talk about a subject that I thought I would never have any business writing about: discrimination. It seemed to me that one could never fully explore this topic if they hadnâ€™t actively been discriminated against. Being white, male, and breathtakingly hot I just never had to encounter this phenomenon… until my first visit with my wife to the doctorâ€™s office.
It all started in the waiting room. Becky and I are sitting in our chairs, quite excited about the whole situation. There is the possibility that weâ€™ll hear the heartbeat and itâ€™s just great to be experiencing this. Then I start to look around the room and I notice it happens to be full of pregnant women. Being in an OB/GYNâ€™s office I donâ€™t think of this as shocking, but it becomes apparent that a lot of the women are staring at me oddly and kind of giving me the stink eye. My first instinct is to check my fly, but itâ€™s zipped, and slowly it begins to dawn on me that theyâ€™re mad at me. I instantly chalk this up to territorial reasons. Why should a man be in an OB/GYNâ€™s office? Then Iâ€™m thinking, maybe theyâ€™re mad at me because Iâ€™m not pregnant and they are. I instantly want to shout out that my breasts are tender too, but common sense sets in.
Soon a nurse comes out and calls Beckyâ€™s name. We both get up and walk toward her. She is nicely holding the door open for us, Becky walks through, and then the nurse steps in front of me and lets go of the door, practically slamming it in my face. A wave of panic runs through my body as I begin to wonder if Iâ€™m actually allowed to go back with her. I mean, are the back halls of an OB/GYNâ€™s office akin to the womenâ€™s bathroom? Should I only go in for emergency purposes? I ignore these fears, open the door and run to catch up with them.
The entire appointment lasts roughly 30 minutes, and not surprisingly Iâ€™m ignored through the entire session. The nurse never looks at me, and my questions go largely ignored. The message is clear: Iâ€™m a man, and canâ€™t possibly understand anything about this process. Of course this is true, but do you have to act like Iâ€™m not in the room?
I implore with the medical professionals and pregnant women out there donâ€™t discriminate against us men. Sure we got you in this predicament in the first place. Itâ€™s true we get to sit back while youâ€™re body goes through a virtual funhouse of hormonal and physical changes. And maybe, like, half the time after we get you pregnant we leave you to raise the kid by yourself, or spend every waking moment away from the baby while we go drinking at the bar. So what if we only have to sit and hold your hand while a bowling ball size object has to pass through yourâ€¦ Hey, wait a minute! What the hell am I saying? Men do have it easy!
Ladies, discriminate all you want.