We're Having A Baby
Dana Thacker

They say marriage isn't easy. What they should say is that marriage is perfectly fine until your wife becomes pregnant. That's when it all goes downhill. That sweet, beautiful girl you fell in love with turns into a moody, hormonal mess practically overnight. Now don't get me wrong, I still love my wife more than anything in this world. I always will. I just wish I had known more about all this pregnancy stuff before I came home that night to find an E.P.T. test lying on the bathroon sink.

"Mike, I think I see two lines," she said.

Amy squinted her eyes and stared hard. Those new contact lenses she had been talking about were obviously not all they were cracked up to be because those were the two most visible pink lines I had ever seen. I could have stood on the front porch and held up the stick and cars passing by could have seen those pink lines.

"We're going to have a baby!!!!"

Although it was a bit unexpected, Amy and I were both on cloud nine. Those next few days were nothing short of amazing. We called everyone we knew to tell them the good news. And I do mean everyone. Amy even went as far as to call our mailman. Why in the world she felt the need to alert the U.S. Postal Service of our newest addition, I will never understand. But she was excited beyond words. And so was I. I had always wanted kids. My dad had never really been much of a father to me after walking out on my mother when I was just a toddler, and I wanted nothing more that to prove to him, and to myself, that I could be twice the man he ever was. I knew I would be a great father to my children. Actually, my son. Amy found out yesterday we're having a boy. The only thing I seem to be having trouble with these days is how to deal with the mother-to-be.

The clock on the wall ticks as the minutes pass by. It's 4:47 and my workday is over at 5:00. Normally I would be counting the seconds until I could leave this desk of unfinished paperwork behind and go home to my wife. But not today. I think I would rather stay here at the precinct all night long. Maybe the captain would let me patrol tonight. It's not like you can ever have too many cops patrolling the mean streets of Durham. Yeah, that's right the big metrapolis of Durham, North Carolina. Ok....so maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. To be quite honest, Durham is about as close to Mayberry as you could get. There hasn't been a murder here in God knows how long. The most exciting thing that happened this week was when a little old lady thought she saw a burglar in her backyard. I never knew a ninety-year-old woman could aim a pistol as well as I could. She obviously thought I was a burglar when I arrived on the scene because she was aiming that gun right at me. Luckily her hearing wasn't as bad as her vision because she dropped the gun and put her hands in the air when I told her I was Officer Kendall of the Durham Police Department. I don't know how she couldn't make out my uniform. I wasn't more than three yards away from her. Maybe she's wearing those same piece-of-crap contacts Amy bought last week.

"Mike, it's ten after five. You going, or what?" Captain Mitchell stood over my desk.

"Yeah, I'm outta here."

Now, like I said before, usually I'm more than ready to leave the hassels of work behind everyday. I love my job, but I love coming home and hanging out with my wife even more. But today, I've found myself driving 45 on the highway. The truth is, I don't want to go home to my wife this evening. She's been giving me the infamous silent treatment for two days now. She slept on the couch last night, which, as every husband knows, is the ultimate sign that she's highly ticked off. I guess you want to know what happened? Well, I'll tell you exactly what happened and you'll see how ridiculous she's being. On Monday night, we were watching tv and Amy gets up and goes into the kitchen. She came back into the living room, hands on her hips, and asked me what I did with that pack of oreos she bought the other day.

"I ate them." I said. I swear, when I said that I could see steam coming out of her nose.

"For three days, the one thing I have been craving is oreos. And when I finally get my huge stomach to fit behind the wheel of the car long enough to drive to the grocery store and buy some, you have the nerve to eat them."

Amy stomped off and I heard the bedroom door slam behind her. I sat there for a while, debating whether or not I should breathe for fear that even that would tick her off. But I couldn't help it. She was still my wife and I loved her. So I drove to the grocery store in town and came back with a pack of oreos. Amy was lying on the bed watching tv when I returned. I pulled the bag from behing my back and she started to cry.

Nice job you retard, I thought to myself. You've upset her again. Maybe she changed her mind and wants Chips Ahoy instead. But Amy got up off the bed and hugged me.

"You're the greatest husband ever, Mike. And I love you." Thank you, Jesus, I silently prayed.

Amy and I sat there and watched a movie and ate the oreos. Actually, she ate the oreos and I miserably sat through an entire movie on Lifetime. I wasn't about to ask to change the channel. For all I knew, such a question as that could result in divorce papers at this stage of the game. Everything was fine until Amy began telling me about her doctor's appointment that day.

"He tells me now that my due date is on the twenty-fifth."

"What?" I asked. "That's the Superbowl. "Couldn't they induce labor on the twenty-fourth or something?"

I realized I'd made a huge mistake as soon as I finished my sentence. Suddenly, my sweet girl turned into a monster. I felt like I was in a scene from the Exorcist. I was just waiting for Amy's head to start spinning in circles.

"Is that what you care about?" Amy asked as she ran out of the room. "Our child is going to be born and you're concerned about the stupid Superbowl? I hate you Michael Kendall. I hate you."

Now do you see how ridiculous this is? I mean, come on. I made a mistake. I've apologized until I'm blue in the face but all she does is ignore me. The only attention I've gotten from her these past two days was when she threw a plate at my head this morning. I guess that was a sign she's still not ready to forgive me. It's just that I'm a huge football fan and the superbowl is better than Christmas to me. Of course the birth of my son is much more important than a football game. I just didn't think before I spoke. And now I'm paying for it. Big time.

I pulled the 2002 Malibu into the garage and shut the door behind me. I've been wanting to get something new for a while now. There's a huge dent on the front of the car from when Amy hit a cow last summer. Seriously....she hit a cow. She came home in tears because she said the cow just darted out in front of her. Now I'm certainly no farmer, but I've never seen a cow exactly dart. They're not the fastest creatures on this planet. But the dent wasn't that bad so I just never bothered to have it repaired. I guess with a baby on the way, I could start looking around for some good deals on something new.

I went into the kitchen and found Amy just standing there, tears running down her face.

"Amy, what's wrong?"

"I forgot," she said. I stood there for a few seconds in amazement that she was actually talking to me again.

"You forgot what, honey?"

"I forgot how to make chicken casserole. I never even had to use a recipe before. Not only am I fat, I've lost my mind too. I just can't do this. I'm not sure if I'm ready for a baby right now."

Now I knew that my words here were crucial. One wrong move and that pan she was holding might be permanently imbedded in my skull.

"Amy, I know this is hard for you, but we're in this together. We're going to have a baby, ready or not. And I'm sorry about the other night. I know I've said it a million times, and I'm going to keep on saying it until you believe me. I love you and I'm here for you. What do you say we go get ready and go out for dinner? Anywhere you want."

"I'm sorry I was so mean to you. I know you didn't mean it."

Amy threw her arms around me and rushed upstairs to get ready. She came back down fifteen minutes later wearing the blue sweater I bought her for Christmas. She looked beautiful. That is until she puked all over it. She had to come back in and change before we even made it out of the driveway. I helped her pick out a green cardigan which looked just as great on her. No sooner had I locked the door behind me, for the second time might I add, Amy says she has to pee.

"Why didn't you do that before we came downstairs?" I asked as sweetly as I possibly could.

"Because I didn't have to then. But now I do, so please unlock the door. I'll hurry." I unlocked the door and she flew back up the stairs. Boy, was this going to be a fun night or what?

At 3:00 a.m., I found myself sleeping on the couch. How I ended up there, I'm sure you can imagine. To sum up our night, we stopped to pee at least fifteen times, Amy threw up again, and she was mad at me by the end of the night because I forgot to bring the left over Chinese back home with us. So now, I'm lying on the hard couch with a sheet Amy threw at me before she slammed the bedroom door in my face. I'm telling you, this pregnancy stuff is just too much. I've heard all the horror stories about what women have to go through, but what about us guys? Sometimes I think I'd rather be the one pregnant. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with Amy. I just wish she could see how hard I'm trying.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

I read him his rights, handcuffed him, and put him in the back of my patrol car. Actually, I lifted him into my patrol car. I'm telling you, it never pays to be drunk in public. They know they're going to get caught, so why do it? To be quite honest, I really don't even understand why anyone would want to drink at all. I swear, I'll never touch the stuff. I guess seeing my father drink himself to death after leaving my mother made me realize that drinking only leads to trouble.

I took the man back to the station and turned him over to Captain Marshall. Who knows what would happen to him. At 5:00, I headed out for the day. Driving home, my thoughts suddenly turned to Amy. That happens quite often. Ever since the first time we met back in college, I haven't been able to get her off my mind. We dated for a year before deciding to get married. That was the best decision I ever made. Amy was the sweetest, most beautiful girl I had ever met. I always hated it when we fought. I guess the fear of losing her drove me crazy. I stood outside in the rain one night when we were dating and knocked on her door for an hour before she let me in. We had had a fight, something stupid probably, and I told her I couldn't leave mad. So I said would stand outside and knock until she would listen. I really knew how to sweet-talk her then. Even after we were married, I could always make Amy forget about why she was even mad in the first place. But now, everything is so different. It seems like the harder I try, the madder she gets. But I'm not giving up. I love that girl more than anything. She's pregnant with my child and I'm going to make this work if it's the last thing I do.

I stood in line at the Icee Shack trying to decide what the difference between lemonade-berry and berry lemonade was. Seems to me like it would be the exact same thing. I think they just change some of the words around so they can advertise that

they have fifty-two flavors. I mainly stopped by because I know they don't get much business in January. For some strange reason, people seem to think that icee's and snow don't mix. I felt guilty about buying an icee for myself and not Amy so I dialed the number on the cell phone to call her. Actually, I had a terrible fear that if I went home with an icee for myself and nothing for her, I might be beheaded right there in the driveway.

"Hey honey! How are you ?"

"Good, I guess. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering if you wanted an icee. I'm getting one."

"Yeah. What do they have."

"You know what they have. Don't you like Strawberry Kiwi?" I asked

"If I even see a kiwi right now, I'll puke. Just tell me what they have."

"Amy, there are fifty-two flavors. We've been here a million times. You know what they have."

"I forgot. Can't you just read the menu."

Now I'm sure you're wondering what I did in this situation. Well, I did exactly what any good husband would do. I listened to my wife.

"Cherry, Banana Split, Oreo, Blueberry, Grape, Watermelon,"

I stood in line at the Icee Shack with four people behind me and read the entire menu. All fifty-two flavors. I heard quite a few sighs of frustration coming from the back of the line and a few giggles. Amy finally decided on her usual Strawberry Kiwi. I couldn't believe it.

"You're kidding," I said. "That's the very first thing I said and you still made me stand here and read the menu?"

"I had to be sure. I thought something else might sound better, but I guess it didn't," Amy replied. "Hurry home. I miss you."

Looking back on it now, I'm amazed that I survived this pregnancy. I guess that sounds pretty strange coming from a guy, but let me tell you, it's almost as hard on us as it is the woman. My son, Michael Austin Kendall, was born on January 25, 2004. The delivery is another story in itself. Aside from Amy's screams of pain and her threatening to cut off various body parts of mine (I'm sure can imagine), everything was smooth sailing. The instant Michael was born, Amy and I fell totally in love with this child that we had brought into the world.

Yesterday evening when I came home from work, I walked into the kitchen and found a neatly wrapped package with my name on it sitting on the counter. I opened the box and inside was a card from Amy.

Michael,

I could never thank you enough for all you have done for me.

Thank you for putting up with me the past nine months. I know

I haven't been the easiest person to deal with, but you

were always so understanding. And most of all,

thank you for giving me a wonderful son. You mean

the world to me and I love you.

Amy

With tears in my eyes, I looked in the bottom of the box and found two tickets to a North Carolina Panthers game in November. For the first time since our son's birth, I realized that I had missed the Super Bowl. But somehow, that didn't seem to matter anymore. I went into the bedroom and found Amy lying on the bed asleep, her arms around our sleeping newborn. They looked so peaceful. I knew then that I had the sweetest wife in the world. To think that she went and bought the two of us tickets to a football game after I had spent the past nine months complaining. I went over to the side of the bed and put my arms around Amy and kissed Michael on the cheek, knowing that no football game could ever compare to the feeling that I had right then.