Pregnancy - Dream Dad

Excerpted from
The 7 Stages of Motherhood: Making the Most of Your Life as a Mom
By Ann Pleshette Murphy

Given what we had gone through the first rime, Steve's elevated concern when I conceived again made my pregnancy with Maddie a time of heightened involvement and togetherness. He was there for me in ways that ran the gamut from massaging my swollen ankles to making certain our obstetrician told us absolutely everything. When I balked about "bothering the doctor with a dumb question," he picked up the phone and called. He also took over completely the organization of Maddie's room, giving the ceiling a fresh coat of paint days before she arrived. "I don't want her staring at cracks and water stains!" he explained only somewhat facetiously.

We were in step in many ways, completely in denial in others. I can't remember ever sitting down to talk about our roles or about how Steve might adjust his schedule once his week of paternity leave came to an end; nor did our ridiculously lame La maze class prepare either of us for the practical demands of a new baby. I suppose J assumed that, as the eldest of four, Steve would know something about diapers and midnight feedings, and I suppose I didn't want to question whether he felt his identity was on the line, because that would mean thinking about my own. Or perhaps it was my total self-absorption (particularly toward the end of my pregnancy) that precluded my stopping to consider fully how Steve felt about becoming a dad. Like an egocentric toddler who thinks everyone sees the world just as she does, I assumed Steve approached the big day with similar fears, hopes, images of the future. But then again, I never bothered to ask.

Perhaps the biggest challenge in considering one's spouse and thinking about the kind of dad he'll be is managing to separate fantasy from reality. If your husband is a member of Workaholics Anonymous, then chances are he will not spend mornings lying next to you in bed, gazing through tear-glazed eyes at his newborn. More likely he'll be primed to spend more time out on the hunt, fulfilling his role as provider.

Several moms I spoke to knew from the start that the early months would be flown solo. They harbored no fantasies of Dad racing to the nursery for the midnight feeding or leaving his office early to take the baby to the pediatrician. Toward the end of her pregnancy, my friend Elise had come to terms with what her highly driven spouse would be like and, more important, what they might be like as a team: "Even though there is a part of me that wants Brian to be very involved in the baby's care and feeding, I know that he hasn't really thought about that stuff. He just doesn't go there. I think about it all the rime. Also, I'm pretty headstrong about how I want things done, and if he is very involved, I'm sure ultimately there will be some issue that we won't see eye to eye on."

One of the more novel-not necessarily more sage-solutions to the prospect of having to share the baby care came from a self-confessed "type-A" expectant mom, married to a "total type-A" guy. Four weeks shy of her due date, MaryAnn told me that she had refused to read any books on the how-tos of baby care. "I've intentionally not learned things. I have sisters with kids, so I've been around newborns. But I have not read any of the books about having a baby because I don't want the leg up. I don't want to know more than Doug. He's a great uncle to the kids once they can throw a ball, but the newborns, well, suffice it to say, I don't think he's ever changed a diaper, so I specifically want a clean slate so we can learn together. Once I tell him three things he'll assume I know everything and then he'll look to me for how to do X or Y. I'd rather we figure it out together."

Convinced that her husband "wouldn't be around much," Shelly pictured herself alone and exhausted: "When I imagine motherhood, I think I'll be really tired at the end of the day. I worry that I'm going to be bored and lonely. I don't think John will be very helpful. I worry that he won't be there a lot of the time." As sad as Shelly sounded, and although her life might well have turned out different and better, at least her mental preparation for motherhood included fantasies that many women are too ashamed or anxious to share.

When my friend Chloe became pregnant six weeks after she and her husband were married, her first thought was to have an abortion. The timing was all wrong. They were just starting out together as a couple, and she had been accepted to graduate school. I was really upset and angry," she recalled. But one night Chris pulled out a photo of his daughter by his first wife and said, "Look, you have to decide, but this is why I would want you to go ahead: I love Allison so much. You just can't imagine what it's like to feel this way."

As it turned out, Chloe and Chris found that their son's arrival early in their marriage grounded them. It was a tough time. Chris had taken a job he didn't like in order to be at home while Chloe attended grad school, and finances were tight. "I think had we not been parents, we might not have made it," she said.

Or course, having a baby to heal a troubled marriage or to trap a spouse is so patently misguided that it's become a hackneyed staple of afternoon soaps. Surprisingly, in a study of reasons American couples stated for having kids, "to bring spouse closer" ranked number one. And many pregnant women say they experience a deepening intimacy and connection with their husbands.

Elise described a sense of having crossed over into a new stage in her relationship with her husband, Brian: "First we were a couple, living together. Then we got married and felt an even stronger connection. But this is even closer than that. I can't imagine how intense and deep it will be when we actually have a baby in our lives."

As close as she felt to Brian, Elise admitted that it drove her crazy when he told friends, "We're pregnant." Having gone through many months of fertility treatments and riding the arduous physical and emotional roller coaster that these treatments entailed, she laughed at the notion that the pregnancy was shared: "You know right away there is an imbalance.