I will start this post out with a disclaimer. I am not pregnant and do not plan to have any more babies. No, I am not going to try for a girl. Sorry to anyone that got excited when they read the title.

I have had discussions with many of my friends lately about how annoyed they got that their husband complained the entire time they were pregnant. Or that their husband complained once when they were pregnant. Either way, it was not cool.

It inspired me to share their stories with the world so that hopefully the wonderful men in our lives will get the point and keep their sweet little mouths shut while we prepare to bring a human being into this world.

All names have been taken out of these stories so every man that reads this can wonder if a certain story is about them. And no Logan, they are not all about you. I am betting that 98% of women can relate to all of these stories.

So here we go:

Dear husband, I know that you might have had a hard day at work. I know you are tired. And I know that I appear to be laying on the couch watching this riveting documentary about Scientology with Leah Remini, but what you can’t see is that I am growing one of our kid’s appendages in my uterus. It’s tough work. It takes a lot of energy. And yes, I did eat that entire box of donuts. I’m carb loading. This is a marathon, not a sprint.

Dear husband, I am deeply sorry that your running back in your fantasy football league with your high school friends got benched at the last minute and that you had to change your lineup with only three minutes to spare. That had to have been tough on your thumbs. But I spent the first three hours of the day with the cold sweats and my head in the toilet and a two year old watching me vomit. So let’s not talk about who is having a worse day.

Dear husband, I know that I haven’t done the laundry in two weeks and you are running out of clothes to wear. But I have had to wear the exact same tent-sized dress for the last three weeks because I literally cannot fit anything else on my body. I look like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters and I have busted four pairs of flip flops in the last week alone. So dig into the back of those drawers and wear one of those t-shirts you refuse to throw away. And start lowering your standards now because this situation probably won’t get better once this kid is born.

Dear husband, I know that your calf/ankle/hamstring/quad hurts, but you bring this on yourself. You and your other thirty and forty-something dad friends can’t play basketball every Wednesday night like you used to without someone throwing out their back. And I know that your best friend from second grade elbowed you in the face and you are super pissed off, but I have a nine pound baby turning somersaults inside of me and I’m pretty sure one foot is stuck between my ribs and the other is keeping a constant foothold on my bladder.

Dear husband, I know you had to stand for three whole hours while I attempted to push a nine pound baby out of body, but yes, let’s talk about your legs being tired. You know what’s tired on me? EVERYTHING! I’ve been growing a child for 40 weeks, gained sixty pounds, had incredibly bad heartburn, haven’t been able to sleep for the last 20 weeks and vomit every single morning, and I’m about to have my abdomen cut open so that they can move my organs around and pull out a massive child. But please, sit down first. The baby can wait.

So that is all for now. Men, if your wife is pregnant, complain to someone else. The dog or your brother. Maybe you can get a therapist. But a pregnant woman is not someone you can vent to. It’s just not fair, or nice.

Until Next Time,