When your first pregnancy ends at 37 weeks, every day past that is a whole new level of discomfort and impatience. But for me, every day I creep closer to the 40-week mark means a higher chance of my husband missing Squeak’s birth.
A doula wasn’t part of my birth plan, mostly because of the out-of-pocket cost. But then I went out one night and had a serendipitous meeting.
I partook in a few pregnancy “no-nos” in the past week and got to thinking: why are we so uptight about this stuff?
At the 36-week mark of my last pregnancy, I was 4 centimeters dilated and almost completely effaced. This time… not so much.
People are especially friendly to pregnant women, leading to lots of conversations with strangers. I’ve had two enlightening conversations lately that have had me pondering them long after the talking was over.
An assortment of musings on pregnancy — from heartburn to gender prediction to Braxton-Hicks contractions — from a gal sporting a giant 35-weeks-pregnant belly.