Welcome to the blog series; Daddy’s Issues, from Indie comic creator, Johnny Craft. Come along chapter by chapter as this comic book writer explores the journey of expecting his first child and all the emotions and creative challenges that come along with it.
Jovelyn is eight months pregnant in July. I already think she’s the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen, but she must be literally hot as fuck!
The temperatures are consistently in the nineties, and she has to go to a doctor’s appointment almost weekly. Given the… chesty nature of my wife-to-be, I can imagine venturing outside becomes quite the sweaty endeavor this late in the pregnancy game.
I’ve even been struggling with the heat, and I’m not growing another human being inside of me. Running baby errands, moving things to get ready for Max, my excessive body hair, and general anxiety have me sweating through a couple of shirts on a daily basis. This is me in my regular, unable-to-become-pregnant mode. I could only imagine the perspiration I would produce, if I had 25-40% extra blood, like my lovely pregnant Jovelyn.
It doesn’t really help matters that Summer decided to rudely barge into our lives, unannounced. I mean, seriously, what happened to Spring of 2018?! We go from Winter Horror Show all the way up to March and then out of nowhere, BAM!, 88 degrees with imposing sun. If global warming (or climate change… or whatever you want to call it, really) is NOT real, then I demand an investigation. I want to file a missing person’s report on Spring, because something happened! Summer may have actually murdered springtime, so it could seize the opportunity to bake us for a few extra months a year.
Taking all these things into consideration, and adding the fact that my apartment is a STEEP two-story walk-up that requires permit parking in a lot a block away from me, you could imagine that Jovelyn hates the heat. She’s even confessed to me that, second to being able to hold our son, she’s looking forward to giving birth so she can stop “always needing a nap and always smelling like tittie sweat”.
We have doctor’s appointments almost weekly, so avoiding the stairs is not something Jovelyn can do completely. I help her waddle down the stairs as much as I can, but I can’t always attend every appointment. My biggest fear was that her water would break, while I was not home, and she would try going down those treacherous fuckers while going into labor. Thankfully the doctor is going to give us an induction date soon, so with any luck, that fear will not become a reality.
The weirdest part about Jovelyn having so much blood running through her veins, and us spending a lot of time indoors during this Mega Hot Summer, I actually find myself getting pretty COLD sometimes. I keep the air conditioner at a much lower temperature than I normally would, and Jovelyn will park herself in front of a fan in addition to the A/C. Cuddling becomes a goose-bumpy endeavor for me. It’s not rare to find me sitting by an open window, so I can feel some of that grossly imposing, yet strangely welcome, summer air to warm my bones.
Like most aspects of this pregnancy, the temperature has become another balancing act for me. Not only do I need to keep myself and the love of my life comfortable, but I also have to slowly transition the baby’s room into a “Safe Sleep Environment” (**to be read in a deep, movie-trailer-guy voice**) and that requires a certain temperature range. I’ve been trying to achieve this by subtly raising the A/C by one degree every day, until the thermometer we keep in the nursery reaches the “Safe Sleep Zone” (**same movie voice**) and I feel like I am one day away from achieving this goal… this very easy to achieve goal, that really required no effort or strenuous thought. Truly, I feel like I should be given a Safe Sleep Zone Award of Excellence.
That’s how, if you use a bit of the ol’ brain power, you can tell that a lot of pregnancy advice you get just may be bullshit. Look, I’m still going to put Max in the “Safe Sleep Zone” because I’m not an asshole, but if we want to talk about HOT then let’s talk about fu-cking hot! Let’s talk sizzling! Let’s talk desert landscape, African third-world, no shade, living in huts, hot! Because they still have babies there and I’m certain the Department of Child Services didn’t provide them with a little thermometer card to keep in their… nursery? They can’t exactly adjust their air conditioning unit a degree a day to find the perfect temperature, and they still manage to grow into adults somehow.
It really is amazing to think about the environments that babies are born in, all over the world, and then reflect on the first-world worries that we have for our children. Babies are born with no running water, in places with no flushing toilets or substantial food to go around, and we in the first-world are buying water jugs with pictures of babies on the fucking things because SURELY that’s more sterile! I mean, look at me, I’m bitching about Jovelyn having to walk down the stairs. At least she isn’t walking down the stairs, all the way down to the lake to collect water, to bring back on top of her head, all while eight months pregnant.
We watched a documentary called “Babies”, all about how people around the world have and raise their babies, and I feel like it’s essential viewing for expecting parents. It puts a lot of those needless worries into perspective. You tend to worry less about what brand of wipes to get, when you see an African woman wiping her son’s ass with her shin bone. Why bother with a baby gate either, when the Mongolians just tie their newborn to a bedpost like a dog?
We really are a lot more fortunate than we realize sometimes. People, that is. Not Jovelyn and I specifically, though it is a good thing to think back on when I’m pissed about not being about to figure out which nipple-flow is best for which bottle type.
We are ready for Summer to be over with. Max gets to join us at the end of it, and along with that comes Awww!-inducing Halloween costumes and some really adorable, tiny winter coats, scarves, mittens, and the cutest of all, little hats.
We just have to get through this imposing heat, first.
Johnny Craft is a comic book writer, who is constantly looking for new talented artists to bring his scripts to life. Johnny’s physical composition is made up of 20% ambition, 30% talent, 40% coffee, and 10% illicit drugs.
Edited by Joey Sheehan