James sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by open tabs on his laptop and a half-eaten granola bar that had somehow become part of his "research process." The screen glared back at him with a mix of medical jargon and forum posts from men who had actually tried induced lactation.

“Possible side effects: breast tenderness, hormonal imbalances, mood swings...”

He scratched his stubble. Okay, so he’d be emotional and a little sore. Big deal. He had survived that one time he had tried hot yoga. This couldn’t be worse.

“Long-term risks: gynecomastia, lowered libido, chemical castration (usually reversible)...”

James paused. He glanced down at his chest. Would it be weird? Probably. He could get surgery after to remove them after everything.. Lowered libido might not be the end of the world, considering how little privacy they would have for some time after the baby arrived. Chemical castration seemed to be reversible upon stoppage of the testosterone blockers. Everything on these lists, he would never have considered before.

He leaned back against the couch, picturing it: him, cradling their newborn, effortlessly providing what they needed while Jennifer crushed it at work. No frantic pumping in airport bathrooms, no guilt. Just Team James-and-Jen, tackling parenthood their way.

Sure, a year of hormones might turn him into a walking pharmacy commercial (Ask your doctor if Dad Milk is right for you!), but then it’d be over. Life would snap back to normal. Mostly. All he could think about was that it would absolutely be worth it if it gave their baby the best start.

His entire life, whenever he had to make big decisions, James had never let convention stand in the way of conviction, and it had served him so well thus far. Regardless of what happened from here on out, this baby was never going to have a shot at a traditional childhood.

Then, before he could overthink it, he shot Jennifer a text:

"Hypothetically… if I went full science experiment for a year, would you still love me if I came out the other side with the chest of a 90s rom-com star?"

He grinned at his phone, already imagining her eye-roll from three miles away.

* * *

The ob/gyn's office had left them giddy – the flicker of a heartbeat on the ultrasound, the official due date circled in Jennifer's planner, the way James had teared up when the technician passes them the ultrasound photo." They'd celebrated with overpriced smoothies and spent the afternoon debating names that definitely wouldn't get their kid bullied.

But now, curled together on the couch as dusk settled, Jennifer turned to James with “the look”– the one that meant business.

"About your text today," she began.

"Ah. The Dad Milk proposal."

"Yes, well, I didn't reply because..." She twisted the hem of her shirt. "I needed to really think about it. Not just laugh it off."

James nodded, and took her hand. "Okay. Let's talk."

The Case For Dad Milk (Presented by James):
Optimal nutrition for the baby: "Breastmilk's benefits are insane."
Maintaining Jen’s career trajectory and our long term financial security: “This is going to be a family of 3 moving forward, we need to plan for the future."
Quality family time: “There aren’t enough hours in the day for work and feeding, If I can handle the feeding, that leaves more time for us as a family.”
Temporary weirdness: “One unorthodox year vs. a lifetime of knowing we gave our kid every advantage.”

The Concerns (Presented by Jennifer):
1. Health risks: “James, lowered testosterone isn't like getting a bad haircut. What if it changes you?”
2. Social stigma: “How do we explain this to your mom? To my mom?"
3. The ick factor: “I love you, but the idea of you lactating is... a lot to process.”

James nodded. "Fair. But counterpoint: Formula exists because not everyone can breastfeed. If I can, shouldn't I try?"

Jennifer chewed her lip. "What if it doesn't work? What if you put yourself through all this and your body just... doesn't cooperate?"

James shrugged. "Then we stop all the treatments, buy the fancy European formula and tell the kid it's artisanal."

Jennifer snorted, but her eyes were wet. "You'd really do this?"

"In a heartbeat." He kissed her knuckles. "But only if you are 100% on board. No guilt, no pressure."

They sat in silence for a long moment, foreheads pressed together.

Finally, Jennifer sighed. "Let's sleep on it. But James?"

"Yeah?"

"If we do this, and at any moment you want to pull the plug, just say the word. No guilt, no pressure. Deal?”

James nodded. "Deal."

That night, they dreamt of chubby cheeks and lullabies, and, in James' case, a very detailed fantasy where he won "Father of the Year" in a nursing bra.