We're In the Single Digits!

Photo by Tim Tab - Taken at our Colorado workshop a few weeks ago

Sometimes when my stomach bubbles and lurches involuntarily, I forget that I'm pregnant and I think it's a raging case of intestinal distress. I think, "WTF did I eat for lunch?" and then remember that it's not something I ate, it's something I'm growing. Although if it were something I ate, it would probably be a lot easier to get out.

And that brings us to...

Less than eight weeks left until my due date, but probably more than eight weeks left until I actually give birth. I've been reading a lot lately, and it turns out that due dates are pretty unscientific. The most accurate dates are the ones guessed at within 6 to 7 weeks of conception. (So my actual due date might be closer to November 3rd.) The accuracy dwindles from there. Supposedly, labor is started by your baby when his lungs are done developing. He releases a hormone that initiates labor. Technically, this doesn't take 40 weeks. It can take anywhere from 37 to 42. So, when your doctor pinpoints your 40 week due date, you can go anywhere from three weeks early to two weeks late and still have a normal term pregnancy. Isn't that great news!

I swear that there should be some sort of post-high school health class for women. This pregnancy thing is such a damn mystery in our culture. We're all taught to believe that birth is on par with having your appendix removed. You make an appointment, go to the hospital, and the doctors fix you. Our active role in labor and delivery has been removed. We're taught to be patients and not women giving birth. It seems so wrong. Women should be given more respect than that. Whether you give birth without any drugs at all, or you have a c-section, there are still so many things you can do to advocate for yourself and your baby to have a great experience. It's okay for you to be in control. I wish women were told that at some point in their lives. Instead, we get movies and TV shows that portray women giving birth who are wild with terror and franticly rushing through hospital corridors, pleading for a doctor to dope them up, yelling at their partners for having penises, etc.

Give me a fucking break. We're better than that.