the nine months myth

There is a wild and insane belief out there that pregnancy is a single nine-month stretch. Let me dispel that myth for you.

First of all, it's not nine months. Having gone through three countries' medical systems during this pregnancy, I can testify that its length is not even universally agreed upon.

Some count it as 10 times a 28 day cycle. Others as 40 weeks. Others as 40 plus 3 days. Others as 9 months. some start with the last periods, others with the guestimated date of the baby's beginning.

Isn't it insane that by driving up north in France for 6 hours I would be expected to give birth a whooping 4 days earlier than here in the South? You can always try telling a woman in her third trimester that she's in for 11 days longer than she'd planned on. Ouch. You get denial. I still tell people the baby's due in early February even though according to local calculations the expected date is the 17th - technically, that's mid or end of, not beginning of Feb... But the UK and US systems had me schedule for the 6th.

I now hang my hopes on the notion that more women give birth on the full moon (which is another myth, I know). and the full moon is the 7th of Feb. so there: I'm giving the French calculators one extra day, that counts as a compromise, doesn't it?

Second of all, pregnancy is not a single stretch of time. It's not even three trimesters; it's more like 40 (41? 42?) weeks of experiment-experiences. Believe me, I waited for weeks on end for the supposed burst of energy that comes at the onset of the 14th week (second trimester) - week 15, still exhausted. 16? ditto. 17, 18, 19... I had to wait till just about week 26 and my 'glow' lasted all of two weeks, if that.

Now it is one way to keep things from getting boring, I'll grant you that. there's the week where you can't get out of bed until at least two naps have been taken. the week where the bathroom is your new best friend, especially in the middle of the night. the week(s) where you MUST eat every two hours or else the world falls apart and you scramble for any old breadcrumbs.
Different body parts start having voices of their own - the breasts that feel they'll just about fall off, or explode, or both simultaneously. the calves that cramp up right as you set into deep sleep. the zits that we hadn't seen in such glorious eruption since high school. the week-of-the-salty-protein-cravings (eggs, chicken, ham); the week-of-the-raw-grated-carrots, the week-of-the-mint-syrup-with-sparkling-water; the week-of-the-cheese (actually, never mind that last one is a constant).

It's for a great cause. I'm not complaining. I'm fully aware that so far I've avoided the most terrible of ailments of pregnancy (and if you don't know what they are, I won't be the one to tell). I just want to take a stab at the conspiracy of silence over pregnancy and the so-called radiance that occurs during nine months, without any mention of the squeeshage that occurs with your internal organs (digestive and bladder of course, but you also get a glimpse of what half a lung capacity and no diaphragm can do to you).

Now I rest my peace.