Oh, to be expecting. A magical time, really. Nine months of mystery in which parenthood is a locked door and you spend most of your time imagining what it’s like on the other side.
Having now lived nine months on the other side, I have some insider information.
Labor is a shadowy figure. For months, it peers in your windows at night. It hides under your bed and in the closet. It’s faceless and unknowable. At times your imagination gets the best of you and your fictitious labor suddenly becomes some torturous scene from the movie Saw. And I’m just a guy. I’m not doing the heavy lifting. I can’t imagine the kinds of horrors women dream up.