Dads-to-be need pampering too

Have you ever realized—long after the fact—that others have benefited from a situation while you naively stood by, gaining nothing for yourself?

Let me give you a quick example from my own life. Here’s the scene: at just about this time last year, my son entered the third trimester of his coddled little life inside the womb; my wife was carrying him and, therefore, was crowned Queen of All Pamperdom; and I was the poor schlepp—the only one of us three—who entirely missed his opportunity to cash in on any of the indulgences accorded by pregnancy.

I imagine the third trimester in the womb is kind of like senior year in high school. You’ve mastered the basics. Just before graduating, you know all about the Federalist Papers, how to find the hypotenuse of a right triangle, and you’re no longer mistaken for a gawky freshman. Likewise, by the third trimester, you’ve grown feet and hands, your gill-like arches have turned into a neck, and you’re no longer mistaken for a giant tadpole. Simply put, life is good.

My son was born in late September. I’m sure that by July he was blowing off class and doing carefree flips in those warm waters—no worries, no obligations, no responsibilities. All the while, people were throwing him parties and buying him cool stuff like a “babywipe warmer” to ensure that his transition into the outside world wouldn’t be ruined by room temperature t.p. I’m telling you, he was pampered.

As for my wife, whew, talk about being spoiled. Sporting the belly the size of a cantaloupe, she was treated like royalty everywhere she went. “Can I hold the door for you, ma’am?” “Would you like an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert, ma’am?” “May I carry that bag for you, ma’am?” “Please, sit down and put your feet up, ma’am.”

And I was the worst offender, volunteering to be her dedicated servant from the minute we found out she was expecting. Following the advice of parenting magazines (most of which are edited by women, thus hinting at some sort of “pamper her, you fool” conspiracy), I cooked, I cleaned, I ironed, I grocery-shopped, and I rubbed her swollen ankles until my fingers went numb.

And now, one year later, I see something clear as day: she worked it, baby. Sure, she carried the load for nine months—literally and figuratively—and she deserved to be pampered. But she also didn’t tell anyone to stop. She knew better.

So, what about me? What about all dads-to-be? My simple advice to expectant fathers: get your piece of the pie, too. Don’t be neglected or ignored. Like your partner, you have some legitimate concerns about becoming a parent. You have needs. And you should realize that this is a great time to take advantage of people’s generosity.

Here’s the game plan. Hit up your mom first. She’s in a state of euphoria—she’s happy that you’ve found a nice girl, are finally settling down and, best yet, are giving her what she wants most in the world, a grandchild. Your mom will do anything for you right now. Start by mentioning that you’ve been meaning to read up on becoming a good dad, but that your library doesn’t seem to carry the right books. Then, watch the Barnes and Noble gift card fly your way. If you happen to have a little left over to spend on that new CD you’ve been wanting, so be it.

Next, squeeze your co-workers. The “office grandmother” (every office has one) is the best target. As soon as you get the sonogram picture, race straight to her desk and let her know that she’s the first one to see the little tike. Subtly work into the conversation how much you enjoy those chocolate chip cookies she bakes and—whammo—two dozen will be on your desk the next morning. Eat them at the office; don’t take them home; share none. Show the producers of Sesame Street what cookie overindulgence is really about.

Finally, and this takes extreme delicacy, get some pampering from your partner. But first, a word of warning: in making your requests, NEVER make any direct comparisons between you and your partner’s physical condition. Remember, you deserve pampering due to the emotional/psychological anxiety that goes with expecting a baby. If you say that you’re “tired, exhausted, or nauseous just thinking about the baby,” you can say sayonara to any pampering. So, play it cool. Here are a few things she can do for you:

Give you the OK to go on a guilt-free, weekend trip with the boys. Once the baby comes, it won’t be as easy to split for the weekend. So, go golfing or see an out-of-town ballgame with your friends while you have the chance. Tell your partner that you’ll even line up someone to swing by and help her for the weekend while you’re gone.

Secure some much-needed information. Women love to talk about their birthing experiences; men don’t. When you’re at the next party, have your partner ask her friends-with-children how their dads-to-be did in the birthing room and what they need to know. She’ll be able to fill you in on the details later—which, believe me, will come in handy—and you’ll be saved from awkwardly asking another man, “So, like, how’d that birthing thing go for you, dude?”

Listen and make the dad-to-be feel important. Simply ask your partner to listen to you. Women often think that babies are their domain and men should keep their thoughts to themselves. Well, dads-to-be have some input on this subject, too. Even if we suggest that the baby’s name—boy or girl—should be “Earnhardt,” don’t look at us like we’re raving maniacs. Just say, “That’s a nice idea, honey,” and let us know that we will indeed be a great, competent dad.