Brownie Points

You’d think that by the time the fourth pregnancy rolled around, I would know what to expect from my wife for the next nine months. You’d think I would know exactly how to respond to all her pregnancy related idiosyncrasies. You’d think, but you would be wrong, because the truth is that there is no way to accurately predict what a pregnant woman needs.

This is especially true when the ill effects of pregnancy manifest themselves in the form of nausea, fatigue, and other illnesses. In the case of my wife, for example, these symptoms have been present for the last 14 of her 18 weeks of gestation. The complexities that stem from the hormones of a pregnant woman do not, however, prevent an observant husband from recognizing his wife’s true needs and desires from time to time. It is during those rare moments of clarity that a husband must be most astute. I had one of those moments last week and, fortunately, interpreted the desires of my wife with a high degree of accuracy.

It all started on Sunday afternoon. Actually, it all started around four months ago when she got pregnant and started feeling sick on a daily basis, but it was last Sunday that I scored in the latest round of the quest for brownie points.

I found my wife that afternoon, as I often do, in front of the computer researching her latest pregnancy related ailment. As I approached, she appeared depressed. “What’s wrong?” I asked, thinking that she would interpret such a question as true interest in her condition.

“You don’t even care that I’m miserable,” she began. As I tried to reassure her that I do indeed care about her pain, she employed a classic trick of the female gender. She cried. And I fell for it. What kind of a man wants to be around a crying woman? There’s just something awkward about that.

When a woman cries, a man will do anything in his power to make her stop, so I said the first thing that came to my mind, “Do you want me to take the day off of work tomorrow to take you to the doctor?” Red lights flashed in my mind as the words tumbled out of my fully engaged mouth. Tomorrow was a busy day. I couldn’t possibly rearrange everything that need to be rearranged in order to take my tearful wife to the doctor, could I? As the words spewed forth I was secretly hoping she would reply by telling me that it really wasn’t that bad and that she would be alright.

Of course, my mental scenario wasn’t the same one that played through her mind. “Yeah,” she replied with big puppy dog eyes as she wrapped her arms around me. And with that single word, I was committed.

As I reflected upon my ordeal, I was struck with the realization that although I felt somewhat stuck in a predicament, the choice really wasn’t that hard to make. My wife needed to know I cared about her, and this commitment was nothing more than an extension of the commitment I made to her 10 years ago: “Annette, I pledge my life to you. I promise to love and support you, to be faithful, committing myself to you only...I promise to always remember that you are a gift to me. I give you all that I am and all that I will be forever.”

And with that, the whole family piled into the car the next morning to to show mom that we loved her.