The following are quotes from my wife, who is pregnant for the first time. The quotes are not labeled by week, but they do run in chronological order from just days after we found out she was pregnant to present day at 27 weeks along.
Opening a tub of Cookies n’ Cream ice cream: “I need all of this.” Aggressively scooping, “It’s just I see the cookies, and I want them.”
Talking about feeling bloated before pregnancy: “Oh, I dream of those days.”
“I don’t know why people don’t take more precautions for not getting pregnant accidentally. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”
Me: “Even abstinence.”
“Yes. There isn’t a man attractive enough or good enough to risk this again.”
After a chromosomal test that also determines the baby’s gender: “Oh, I’m so glad I found out he’s a boy. I already have his whole life planned.”
Me (thinking): Good luck with that.
Talking about why she’s so hungry during her first trimester: “I was making placenta. I know how to do that. I just made one.” She was very proud of herself.
Eating a big bowl of ice cream with hot fudge: “I can’t believe what’s happened to me with food since I got pregnant.”
Me: “What do you mean?”
“I’ve become such a pig. I used to be sensible. I was selective. I’d pass things up. Now I think I’d fight someone, if it came to that.”
Looking in the mirror at her growing belly: “I’m going to be so freaked out when my bellybutton pops out. Do you think that’s going to happen?”
Me (cautiously): “I think so.”
“Do you think there’s any way that doesn’t have to happen?” She looks out the window. “Oooh, look at the moon!” It was huge and round in the sky. See the humor, here?
Talking about baby brain: “I think I’m one step away from putting the milk in the pantry.” A week later: “Chris, the yogurt’s missing.”
Before I could respond: “Oh my god. I put it in the freezer.”
Talking about her growing belly again (I think around 16 weeks): “This is about as big as it can get. It can’t get any bigger. He can just scrunch in there.”
“I don’t know why anyone would even worry about looking good while pregnant. All I’m worried about is making sure my stomach doesn’t explode. If your stomach exploded, then you’d really have something to worry about.”
At 17 weeks: “If someone told me I could deliver today, I’d be like ‘Yes!’”
Me: “I have the best news of the week.”
“That somebody developed a new pregnancy, and I can deliver next week?” (18 weeks)
Me: “No, I found the wrench I’ve been missing.”
Cold silence and a look.
Me: “It’s my favorite wrench.”
More silence.
While we were arguing. Me: “Honey, I’m not trying to be a jerk.”
“See, you’re so good at it, you don’t even have to try.”
“My goal is to have the box of cookies and box of truffles eaten before my mom comes.”
Me: “Are you afraid she’ll eat them?”
“No, I’m trying to clear clutter…by eating it.”
“Do you think he feels ignored when I don’t talk to him?”
Me: “I don’t think so.”
“But when he’s kicking me, he clearly wants my attention, and I can’t always talk to him. Do you think he’s lonely?”
“I’m not looking forward to the doctor’s appointment because I have so many questions about the birthing procedure, and I really don’t want to know what she has to say. Basically, I want her to tell me there’s a way to teleport the baby out.”
“Today I was poking my belly, and he was kicking back, and I think one time I felt him [from the outside].”
Me: “That’s awesome!”
“No. What if I hurt him? What if I broke his finger?”
Five minutes after talking about baby brain, I was making a banana-strawberry smoothie. Me: “The color of this isn’t very appetizing.” It was flesh colored inside the green tint of the blender pitcher. I poured it in glasses.
“It doesn’t look so bad in real life.”
Me: You mean out of the pitcher?”
“Yes.”
After a 20-week ultrasound: “I’m so proud of him for being so photogenic. Aren’t you impressed?”
Me: “With what?”
“With how well he showed everything!”
An hour later, still talking about his performance during the ultrasound: “He did such a good job. He deserves a present, but I can’t give him anything…except pizza!”
Talking about a sudden sensation in her uterus: “He must be learning new techniques. Whatever this is is very not cool. It’s like vertigo in my uterus.”
“I’m going to miss him when he’s not here.”
Me: “You mean when he’s in his 20s and goes off on his own?”
“No, I mean when he’s born.”
Me (confused): “But he’ll be here in our house, all the time.”
“But he won’t be in me. I’ll miss him.”
