I'm Not Exactly Sure What Lumbago Is, But I Bet She Has That Too

Here's a broad generalization for you all: expecting fathers tend to think that they understand everything their ladies are going through. That is, when there's a particularly tough kick to the innards, the men nod their head and say, "I know, I know, it's horrible." They dutifully pull over to a McDonald's when there's a necessary bathroom break. They wake up in the middle of the night and massage the charley horse out of her calf.

And I probably fall into that category. I think I know.

Well, I don't. I mean, Kristen is going through a lot physically -- more than just the growing Barnabas. She can't sleep well. Her back hurts. She's getting twitchy. She's always hot. She's always hungry, yet can eat less than someone who's undergone a gastric bypass.

And I sit there and try to help, but I can only do so much. I think the only thing that is really going to help her is giving birth. And let me tell you, from the videos I've seen in baby class we're taking at the hospital, that is some cure.

Of course, after that painful experience is over, and after nine months of discomfort, there is more crap she has to deal with (maybe it's just me, but breast feeding doesn't seem like a walk in the park).

So this is what I'm suggesting. Let's all just make her feel better, or at least let's not make her feel worse. If she drops a fork, you pick it up and wash it off. Not her. If you haven't seen her for a few weeks and you notice that she's gotten a bit bigger (because, well, that's what happens when you're pregnant), don't immediately say, "My God, you look huge!" If it's 100 degrees out but she's cold anyway, get her a blanket. And if icicles are growing off the tip of your nose but she wants the air conditioner on, turn it on.

I don't like to beg, but if I have to, I will.