Before anyone visits this page and thinks that I am claiming ownership of the physical nature of a pregnant woman, take a chill pill. I am not here to start a war with females across the country that take offense to the “we are pregnant” statement used by dads across the country.

I get it...I am not pregnant physically and I have no idea what it is like to carry a baby, much less deliver one.

Still, I considered myself to be pregnant with my wife when she was carrying our two twin miracle girls….and thank God I did.

I really don’t understand how a woman can survive pregnancy without such support. Men are just as responsible for the baby coming as women are, but they often get let off the hook so to speak.

In fact, it is a conundrum. Do women want to claim exclusive rights to the baby making ability or do they want a helping hand from a man willing to let his enthusiasm show? It is a fair question to ask given the recent drama. Some women, it seems, are offended when a man takes ownership of their children’s birth.

I was raised to take pride in that very thing. My mother largely raised us kids by herself and would have loved to have a strong man standing behind her through the entire process. She would have gladly shared the duties of being a mother, provider and soulmate to her kids.

The point is, for those that truly love, support and want their kids, sometimes men are pregnant too.

When my wife was pregnant, I rubbed her feet because mine hurt just watching her move around on hers.

I lifted all the boxes and worried about the strain she put on herself working when she did not have to. She insisted.

I thought long and hard about the name of the child to be and spend hours wondering if they would have my eyes or hers.

I held hands with my daughters every night before we went to bed and said prayers long before they ever left the comfort of the womb.

I got sick to my stomach every single time my wife did.

I went on every single doctor’s visit not because I had to, but because I was genuinely interested in the health of my daughters and wife.

I held my wife for hours while she tried to keep from going into labor early. I cried with her when the babies came early despite her efforts. I supported her through the event and my God supported me.

When the babies were delivered, I watched them go the incubator and started my vigil of standing by and protecting from a distance. I watched them fight for life for over eight months.

I brought them home and cried along with my wife as we put them in their beds at home that first night. It was a moment I will never forget.

This morning I spent the entire afternoon showing them how to shoot spit balls for our summer day together.

From day one to the last day I breathe, I will be their Daddy...and I was pregnant too.