Ben Sloot

I can’t believe Charlie has spent more time out of my wife (MY WIFE!) than she did in her.

Also, I found out (the hard way) that the saying 9 Months In, 9 Months Out holds significant connotations when it comes to bodies.

I stated “9 Months In, 9 Months Out” and my partner rolled her eyes and mumbled something unflattering about me. Better I don’t know what she said. When I’m cut I bleed.

What I didn’t understand and slowly, in my own way, came to realize is that the 9 month mark signifies a ‘milestone’ for mothers. Social media is filled with side by side pictures of mothers at their most pregnant next to a picture holding a full-on baby. A lot of those pictures are women in fitness gear, athleta wear or athleisure outfits. Good for them.

I can tell you that my body hasn’t fully recovered from my wife giving birth. I’m softer around the middle and as you may have read I’m not exactly in fighting shape. The thought of baby swim lessons gave me mild anxiety.

Did I mention I did not physically participate in the growth and delivery of my daughter?

I’m often a smartass. I tell my wife “better than being a dumbass“. I feel guilty though. Whichever nerve I struck, I see all the hard work she puts in on the bike, running with softer joints, and cooking things so the baby grows while we slim down.

It may be a slower process than we want, but raising a baby shares a Clauswitizian concept with war. In real life, as opposed to on paper, the friction makes everything harder.

She is the mother of the greatest creation. I love my wife… and the body that gave us Charlie.