the kind of hopeless father who goes through the whole business under the delusion that it’s as much his experience as it is yours. All this starts in Lamaze classes, where your husband ends up thinking he’s pregnant, and let me tell you he’s not. It’s not his body, it’s not his labor, it’s not his pain—it’s yours, and does any man give you credit or respect for it? No. They’re too busy getting in on the act, holding their stopwatches and telling you when to breathe and when to push and taking pictures of the kid coming out all covered with goo and showing them to your friends at dinner
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