My Wife is Pregnant or the End of the World As I Know It
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
We haven’t had sex for two weeks.
"Some women who’ve never had orgasms or a strong sex drive sometimes become very aroused and active during pregnancy," Francesca reads from one of our pregnancy guides. "Other women who’ve had a high sex drive prior to pregnancy lose some, if not all desire in the first trimester."
"The answer is B," I announce. To myself.
I find myself fantasizing about sex. Sex with a twenty-something college coed. Sex with a thirty-something actress. Sex with basically any woman I can imagine. I keep these thoughts to myself, locked away in an undetectable corner of my brain. In Francesca’s heightened emotional state (the currently acceptable term for "unbalanced"), telling her I’m fantasizing about other women would cause undesired consequences, something involving ambulances and disability insurance.
"I’m sorry we’re not having sex, Perry," says the clairvoyant.
"Francesca, I love you. I’m doing fine."
"You miss it, don’t you?" She sets the bait. In a moment of clarity, I turn away from the lure.
"No, Francesca, I don’t."
"You’re sure?"
"Absolutely."
She knows I’m lying.
We turn out the lights, close our eyes and drift off to sleep.
I am surrounded by six eager sorority girls all named Kimmy. As they descend upon me, each removing a piece of my clothing, three cheerleaders also named Kimmy join the impending Roman orgy.
"This is going to be some night," I chuckle.
"Uh-huh," whispers Kimmy 4.
"Do you have health insurance?" asks Kimmy 7.
“Welcome to the first night of the Beginning Parenthood class. We’re going to talk about taking the baby’s temperature, giving sponge baths and identifying signs of infection or sickness.” Our instructor Barbara wipes clean an expansive dry-erase board. Her frosted blond hair cascades over a bulky, purple sweater.
Francesca and I sit among nineteen other couples, all of us expectant parents. One woman sports a crisp red business suit and impossibly perfect make-up.
“Isn’t she a newscaster?” whispers someone.
Barbara embarks on a well-rehearsed routine. After distributing stapled handouts, glossy pamphlets and plastic babies, she opens with the first stunner of the evening.
“Don’t ever use baby powder,” she says. “Your infant can inhale it and develop respiratory problems.” The class can’t believe its ears. Barbara revels in our universal shock. She moves to the head of the class and takes center stage. She scans the room and launches the next salvo. “How many of you have chosen a pediatrician?”
Our embarrassed smiles betray the truth, no one has even thought about pediatricians. We can’t believe our blatant stupidity.
“How many of you know what healthy baby poopy looks like?”
Spouses helplessly look to each other for a clue. None of us has any idea what a healthy poopy looks like.
“How many of you know how to give a proper sponge bath?” Our feet nervously tap the beige linoleum floor beneath us.
“It’s alright,” smiles the omniscient Barbara, “you’re not alone.”
We scan each other’s faces to see if we’ve all reached the same horrible conclusion. We have. None of us knows the first thing about parenting. Put us in a room with a helpless newborn and the odds of its survival are worse than nil. Hand us a diaper and we’ll put it on backwards. Tell us to prepare formula, and we’ll concoct a mathematical equation.
“Cloth or disposable diapers?” Our instructor continues her studied performance.
“We’re going to use cloth diapers,” replies a smug-looking, thirty-something woman. Her face beams with confidence.
“Why?” Barbara welcomes the challenge.
“They’re better for the environment,” the woman replies smartly. Her round-shouldered husband nods weakly in approval. I know these people. Wealthy, pseudo-liberals who use politically correct euphemisms to disguise their hatred for just about everything. I can’t resist.
“They use all sorts of harsh chemicals to clean cloth diapers,” I report. “The chemicals end up in the
Not a single dolphin lives in the
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Book Details
About the Book
My Wife is Pregnant or the End of the World as I Know It is about:
- A man’s
wondrousharrowing journey through first time pregnancy. - Sex—or lack of sex—depending on your point of view.
- Exhaustion, food cravings, inexplicable shopping sprees and a four-foot pregnancy pillow named Mister Fluffy.
- Birthing classes and the unsettling realization that school prepares us for everything except parenting.
If you’ve had enough of the joke books and the "How-To" manuals, then My Wife is Pregnant or the End of the World as I Know It is for you. Told in a unique narrative that reads like a novel, the book offers men a candid account of an expectant father’s journey. It also offers pregnant women the chance to discover what their husbands are really thinking.
About the Author
Perry Herman, father of a baby boy and husband to a busy executive, lives in Los Angeles. His eclectic background includes professional acting, comedy writing, journalism and computer programming. Perry was a cast member of The National Lampoon Players’ live sketch comedy show and also performed at Los Angeles’ renowned ACME Comedy Theater. His voice has been heard in many television and radio commercials including the acclaimed Yo Quiero Taco Bell chihuahua campaign. After scouring the bookshelves for a candid account of an expectant father’s journey and finding only joke books and dry "How-To" manuals, Perry decided to write this book.