If there’s one thing Christians like to do it is have sex.
This is because it is forbidden, or something. I think.
Just imagine you weren’t allowed to eat chocolate. Hard enough on its own, but then you watch a movie and oh wow those people in the movie are eating chocolate and it looks pretty delicious. Then you go to work and all your friends are talking about how much chocolate they ate over the weekend and you know they’re full of crap because no one eats THAT much chocolate but then again who knows because you’re not even certain what it tastes like. You only got to sniff it that one time at youth camp. And then at church that stupid couple in the singles class is getting married and now THEY get to eat chocolate and you have to pretend to be happy for them but seriously screw them and what if Jesus comes back before it’s your turn to eat chocolate…
Anyway, when two Christians get married and sex is no longer forbidden, things get wild. They’re all like WE GONNA GET CAUGHT UP and they walk around naked all the time and make love in whatever room they feel like and right at the moment where everything is perfect they’re all like WE GONNA GIVE THIS UP, and they decide to have children.
The beginning of having kids is a lot of fun, because this is the part with the sex. After making love you will lie in bed with your spouse, staring at the ceiling and wondering aloud if you should put off conceiving for a few more months, just to enjoy each other for a bit longer. This means that you are already pregnant.
About twenty minutes after that, the woman starts throwing up. This goes on, uninterrupted, for three months. The man just kind of sits there.
At around the three month point the puking usually stops and an eerie calm settles over things. Now it is time for the most important part of the pregnancy. It is not the doctor visit; it is the facebook reveal.
There are several kinds of facebook reveals:
- The cursory We Have An Announcement!!! post
- The Oblivious Toddler Wearing A Big Brother/Sister Shirt announcement photo
- The straightforward Here is My Baby Boy’s Sonogram With His Private Parts Covered photo
- The unedited Here Is My Baby Boy and His Sonogram Dong photo
- The dramatic Are the Contents of this Mystery Container Blue or Pink video
The man, meanwhile, is deep in contemplation, meditating over the coming responsibilities of fatherhoo—ha ha, kidding, this dude is hella angry because he has not had sex for three thousand years, or three months, or whatever, because who cares about anything.
The woman is gaining a lot of weight, which is somewhat of a surprise, because she had already talked to her girlfriends and everyone agreed that she would be Cute Pregnant, which is a kind of fable wherein a woman goes through an entire pregnancy looking exactly like she did in high school except with a small belly bump. The man does not mind the weight gain, because GIANT BOOBS, and the good news for him is that the drought is over: the same two newlyweds who once confidently asserted that sex should never be a bargaining chip will now excitedly agree to sex-for-picking-up-Chinese-food-at-11pm transactions. This is referred to as the second trimester.
As the due date approaches, things get difficult. The woman loses sight of her feet. The man is called upon to give his opinion on strollers, a subject about which no man has ever had an opinion, including the man who invented strollers, probably. Your friends at church will hold a Baby Shower, which is a party where people bring gifts and every single person must tell the pregnant woman “you look great” and then comment, privately, that “she looks huge.” While this is happening the man is thinking about what fast food restaurants are next to the hospital, because if they think he’s eating hospital food they’ve got another thing coming, and he will actually get angry thinking about this while his wife is sitting there opening presents and wondering what her feet look like.
Then the woman’s nesting instinct kicks into overdrive and she does things like color-organize the 6 month onesies in the middle of the night. The man, meanwhile, has started a mental clock, counting down the number of summers he has to cut the grass before he can conscript his offspring to do it for him.
Then, like moths to a flame, deeply miserable people will appear and offer you unsolicited advice on how to be a parent, even though their own kids are horrific little shits, and you really want to point this out to them and seriously someone should, but you have to be on good behavior to get those Target gift cards at the next shower, so whatever.