By David Himmel

Pregnancy is hard. Hard on the mother—or birthing person. Of course it is. Their body goes into overdrive manipulating itself into growing another human being inside of another human being like some German-engineered Russian nesting doll. It’s an incredible feat. Not a miracle, no. Straight up science. And that’s way cooler than a magic trick provided by a cloud-surfing deity. Though, I will give credit to a deity’s Master Plan because no matter how you look at it, the human body is amazing.

There is panic that comes with pregnancy. Panic about your life changing. Panic about whether you are ready. Panic wondering if you can do this, not fuck things up the way your parents did. (They didn’t. You’re fine.) Panic about the health of your child. About their future. About the world we’ve made for them. About the world even being there for them after all the hell we’ve thrown at Mother Earth. These concerns are valid. And they’re not unique. Neither are you. Millions have done this. Millions have been right where you are. One in ten expectant fathers experience depression and anxiety before Junior arrives. Most of those millions have done just fine.

Still, you’re probably feeling forgotten. Or worse, actively cast aside. You entered a relationship, probably a marriage forged of equitable responsibility, love, respect, etc. But now it’s all about her. “We’re pregnant.” Nah. She’s pregnant. You’re waiting for the kid to get here. The fawning over the pregnant woman is deserved. She’s doing that incredible and taxing thing. But, also, she’s doing what biology prepared her to do. And if you’re fortunate enough to have a typical pregnancy, one without risks to mom or baby, count your blessings, dude. You think it’s hard when things are easy? Man up, bitch. Our grandparents went to war. They killed other people then came home and dove right into replacing those people by becoming dads. What did you do today? Scroll TikTok? Watch a documentary about the Roman Empire? Check your crypto account?

Thing is, these nine months are not about you. A lot of it should be. But we live in an unbalanced society. What you’re feeling is what men have felt about domesticity for centuries. It’s dumb, but it is what we’ve made it. The ’ol ball and chain, they call wives. Fall in line, they say. Don’t ask too many questions, they advise. Behind every successful man is a woman telling him what to do, they joke. All that antiquated patriarchal bullshit. You will want to fight this. You will want to make your case and make a statement, and you’ll be on the right side of the argument. It comes from a good place. Destroy the Patriarchy! True equality! But this is not the time for that. Not during pregnancy. Pregnancy is Feminism’s Achilles heel. So, shut up. Say nothing. Now is not the time. There is no world where, despite the science and reasonable conversations, that you are anything more than a serf, a plebe, an annoyance for the totality of the pregnancy. It’s not okay, but neither is murder. Or climate change. Or Taylor Swift earning more than The Darkness on tour. But that’s the way of the world. Deal with it. Deal with it the way our grandfathers dealt with their uncomfortable experiences in war: Bury those feelings. Ignore them for now.

You’re scared. Admit it. I did. Fear is okay. Every emotion is okay. Just don’t let anyone drive your actions. Even the good ones—you’ll fail every time. Fear is the driver of our greatest foibles. I admitted it but I still screwed up. I whined. I dragged my feet like your toddler will in any given aisle of any given grocery store. I complained about having to go to the baby shower. I pouted about having to give up my office for the baby’s room. “No one is asking how I’m doing,” I cried. My god, how I regret that behavior and those words.

What I didn’t do, but I’ve witnessed other expectant fathers do this, is I didn’t bring up in any way, shape, or form, anything having to do with her body. Not what it looks like during pregnancy, not the way it provides more gas than fracking, and definitely not anything about the pregnancy weight. In a birthing class, one of the dads-to-be actually asked the teacher, “When will her body go back to normal? Like, how long after she gives birth?” If that guy isn’t divorced, he will be someday soon. Because that guy is a moron. Share those thoughts with your buddies under lock and key. Or better yet, just keep your thoughts to yourself.

Not just because it’s rude and who cares, but because look around. Look at your friends who are dads, look at any of the dads you know. There’s a reason there’s a thing called a Dad Bod. Because your body is going to take an odd shape, too. And no matter how much your wife loves you, the sexual attraction she has for you will drop ten percentage points for every quarter inch you add to your waistline and every centimeter your hairline decreases. You’re not an Adonis, fella. She’s pregnant. What’s your excuse?

You’re going to be fine. You’re making a sacrifice. That’s what men do. It’s what your birthing partner is doing right now. And will continue to do for years to come. Pregnancy changes a woman’s biology, man. And parenthood will change yours. Not in the same way. Not even close. She’s attached to this kid already. Literally. Physically. Emotionally. Biologically. By the time the turd arrives, they’ll have nine months on you. Give it time. You’ll connect. And you’ll connect quicker than you thought was possible. It’ll hit you and you’ll realize how idiotic all your complaints were. How myopic all your concerns were. That’s why I’m telling you to keep that shit to yourself. Save yourself the embarrassment.

And that’ll save her from resenting you. And you from resenting her. Parenthood will make you two drastically different people than you were when you got married. Roll with it. Be flexible. Be kind. And, yeah, that goes for the mom as well. Save your concerns for anyone other than your partner. It’ll save your marriage and save your life.