It is July 1st. One day past our baby’s “due date,” or as our doula so nicely puts it, our “guess date.” Due dates are, of course, always estimates. They’re given to parents to instill hope in the eventuality of seeing their child face to face after what can feel like an endless number of days, weeks, and months. We are 40 weeks pregnant and according to our beautiful, hand-drawn gestational produce calendar, our child (still a technically a fetus) is approximately the size of a pumpkin- a plant which tends to range in size from something the size of a large fist to something that you can carve out and turn into a small home. Yes, I am carrying one of these inside of my body.
Our long-legged pumpkin of a baby is of normal weight, according to our midwives, and is of the male persuasion, according to dozens of unsolicited predictions from strangers across the span of the past few months. I have also learned from these curiously nosey individuals that I am carrying high, carrying low, have not yet dropped, and am looking ripe, tiny, and huge all at once. It’s so nice of folks to share their many observations.
Numerous formerly pregnant friends warned me that upon becoming pregnant, my body would become a topic of public discourse. I was also warned that my stomach would be touched by many an unknown passerby, a prediction which, thankfully has yet to come true. I’ve instead witnessed a great deal of self-control as woman stand a few feet away gawking at my belly with their involuntary “grabby hands” held at a safe distance. And people say there’s no hope for humanity.
This pregnancy has truly been a wild, incredible ride and I say this fully understanding that I/we have yet to really enter the wonderful and challenging world of childrearing. Also, as someone who doesn’t generally speak of miracles, it is clear to me and the woman I happily call “wife,” that we are two remarkably blessed individuals. WE MADE A BABY. On the first try. Yes, of course, with the help of a little semen (a generous gift from an invaluable donor), a massive amount of intention, and the assistance of a small, stuffed rabbit known as Basil that has undeniable fertility powers (having now helped a second lesbian couple to conceive). But the fact is, it happened relatively easily, and as two women who have watched numerous other female friends struggle, the fact that we’re thanking our lucky stars is a vast understatement.