The most straightforward reason I can’t carry a child is that I lack a uterus, vagina, and all the necessary components for childbirth. Fallopian tubes? Perhaps! But in the wildest of scenarios where I could somehow develop the required anatomy, I’m confident I could manage the delivery. That may sound a bit simplistic, and I recognize that women often take immense pride in their strength during labor. However, having observed the process twice, I’d argue that labor pales in comparison to the challenges of pregnancy. And that’s precisely what men could never handle: being pregnant.
Most of us are adept at enduring pain for short bursts. It’s like a sprint where the finish line makes the struggle bearable. But the prolonged ordeal of nausea, exhaustion, mysterious skin issues, and emotional upheaval? That’s where men generally check out. We excel in tackling big physical challenges, but long-term discomfort and unexpected tears? No thanks, we’ll pass.
I know there are women who genuinely enjoy being pregnant, exclaiming, “It’s just the most beautiful experience!” but I suspect they’re not the majority and might be exaggerating a bit. For many women, pregnancy feels more like a long and winding journey through the hills of Tuscany in a stuffy, vintage station wagon—definitely not a picnic.
From what I’ve witnessed, pregnancy resembles a prolonged bout of food poisoning followed by months of feeling bloated, wearing stretchy clothes, leaking a bit, and crying over pizza. While I do enjoy pizza and could possibly cope with the tears, it’s those initial months of discomfort that seem uniquely suited for women. The deep patience, hope, and unyielding determination that women possess are what keep humanity thriving. Once a woman becomes pregnant, it seems as if her brain fills with emotional strength, commonly referred to as “Mommy Brain.”
When my partner was expecting, she endured relentless nausea for five straight months. I was astonished. “Wait, you’ve been feeling sick and utterly exhausted for 60 days straight, and even after throwing up, you still feel awful?” “Yes,” she replied, in a tone that suggested discussing it further might result in her losing her lunch again.
In my younger days, if I got the spins from drinking, I’d just make myself throw up. It almost felt like a badge of honor—almost. I faced the stomach flu twice last year, and during one of those instances, my partner was also ill. While I lay in bed, barely able to move, she was the one taking care of the kids.
Puke.
Unwrap a snack.
Rest.
Fetch husband some water.
Roll eyes at how weak he is.
Puke.
Open juice box… Repeat.
I’m not proud to admit it, but given my struggle with a mere 48 hours of feeling unwell, I have no doubt that after just two days of pregnancy, I would find myself in the ER, convinced that I was harboring a deadly disease rather than a fetus. I might even contemplate jumping off a mountain with a faulty hang glider, shouting, “This is not worth it!”
Clearly, I am in awe of women’s resilience. However, don’t get too smug, ladies! Just because I’m amazed by your ability to endure the trials of growing a human life does not mean I can’t dominate you in a quick game of basketball (maximum duration: 7 minutes).
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In summary, men are simply not equipped for the multifaceted challenges of pregnancy. The emotional and physical endurance required is a testament to the strength of women, making the miracle of childbirth something that remains outside the realm of male experience.