Steven Rice
SHE'S HAVING A BABY

I'm having a baby. Actually that's not exactly accurate. Technically my wife is having a baby, but there are moments when I

think I'm the one who's pregnant.

We already have one child; a fabulous little girl and this one is going to be a little boy. At least that is what my father tells me. I'm the last Rice male so all the pressure is on me to continue the vaulted tradition of Rice men started by our Uncle Ben.

I'll be just as happy with another little girl. Frankly, I've grown accustomed to being outnumbered in my house. Once you know your place, life isn't so bad.

My wife, bless her, has felt every day of

this pregnancy. We have not had a day yet since we saw the "plus" sign when she did not feel miserably sick. Ten weeks of nausea, fatigue and other pregnancy pains has convinced me that if God had given the task of childbirth to men, the human race would have ended with Adam.

The one thing I have looked forward to in both pregnancies has yet to come to fruition. My wife has yet to crave a thing. I was hoping that she would crave at least two things from my top ten things to eat so I could be a good, loving, supportive husband and leave in the middle of the night to bring her the goodies her childbearing body craves.

But nothing. Nada. "Honey, are you craving some refried beans?" "No? What about donuts? Custard filled with chocolate on the top? Really?" The only thing she's craved has been some ice to go in her juice in the morning.

I like ice, but it's not what I had in mind. I, on the other hand, have been craving food. Those chocolate Easter bunnies with the pink eyes? Gone. Vienna sausages? Mein. And those custard filled chocolate donuts? Cheaper by the dozen. The result is that I'm farther along than she is - at least in terms of who is showing their pregnant bellies.

But that's okay. I'm happy to crave food and I'm happy to even look pregnant; as long as I don't have to give birth. And I've resigned myself to the fact that she will not crave the things I crave and that my weight gain will not be the result of sympathy pains, just hunger pangs.

As long as I get to run some red lights when you're in labor, dear. Just let me run some red lights. And bring some donuts.

You can reach the Rev. Steve Rice , Rector, St Michael's Episcopal Church, Waynesboro, Ga., at www.episcopalians.info.