If men got pregnant, we'd wear Hefty bags and cry at ball games

By Seth R. Hawkins

September 16, 2008 | Arnold Schwarzenegger has gone where no man has gone before.

That's right, he's picked up a helicopter machine gun in one hand and blown up a whole squadron of police cars. Oh, and he also gave birth to a baby once. No biggy.

Honestly, I've never seen Junior, but over the last seven months of my wife's pregnancy, I've reflected a lot on pregnancy.

I deal with her pregnancy every day -- the aches, the pains, the vomiting, the I-have-to-pee-even-though-I-just-did-it-five-minutes-ago syndrome and the random cravings. But, try as I might to feel sympathy pains and be a part of the whole process, I feel very disconnected.

If the baby would just start head banging in the womb or poke its head out every now and then, I'd feel a little more confident my wife's carrying a child and isn't actually possessed by an alien that will burst out of her stomach at any moment -- though a C-section looks quite similar.

As it stands, the biggest connection I've had with my child has been the few times I've placed my hand on my wife's stomach and felt the baby move. Beyond that, there's not really any bonding experience between me and my daughter.

I want to be part of the whole pregnancy process, so much so that I've even considered checking if there was some sort of medical procedure that would allow me to carry the child. If nothing else, it would make me at least half as cool as Schwarzenegger -- though I still need to get my hands on a machine gun.

Seriously though, what if men were the gender that carried children? What would they be like, how would they behave? Though I have no scientific evidence, I have a pretty good guess how it would all go down. Beyond the scientific method of getting pregnant, men would handle pregnancy very differently than women. Here's what I think my pregnancy would be like.

For starters, my cravings would be next to impossible to satisfy.

"Honey, I am so craving a steak right now."

"Don't worry dear, I bought a pack at the store."

"No, you don't understand. I want a big steak."

I would proceed to the nearest cattle farm and kill my own cow and eat it raw while my wife looks on in utter revulsion. Or if I'm in the city, a Golden Corral would have to do.

Morning sickness would seem more like the black plague with me. Instead of occasionally throwing up, I would set up camp in the bathroom for the first three months of the pregnancy. In between hurls, I could catch a glimpse of SportsCenter or try to chug down an IBC.

Emotionally, I would be about as unstable as Whitney Houston when she's not on drugs. Like most men, I only have a few hormones: one that tells me I'm hungry, one that tells me to sleep, one that tells me to watch ESPN and one that tells me to mate.

But pregnancy would bring on so many new hormones I wouldn't know what to do with them. I'd burst into tears during a football game, losing the respect of all my non-preggers buddies and five minutes later I'd be ripping trees out of the ground and throwing them at parked cars to release pent up anger.

Maternity clothes would have to be called something different. I would go to Giant Fat-Guy Clothes 'R' Us and buy basketball shorts that would make Fat Albert look thin and an oversized Hefty bag as a shirt to save on cost.

My baby shower would be a sight to behold as well. The whole party would be conducted in grunts and chest beatings, and regardless of the gender of the child, everything would be in Packers colors.

When it came time to deliver the child, I would tell the nurses to stand back and yell hike so I could snap the baby to them. Now that's a delivery.

After thinking all that through, it's probably for the best I'm not pregnant. So, I guess I'll have to make do with watching how courageously and patiently my wife handles pregnancy. And yes, I did do that to her.

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