Imagine you find out you're pregnant, just as you're about to deliver your child. Now imagine you could have found out the old-fashioned way -- back at the very beginning of that nine-month haul.
I would be demanding some heads roll for my stolen pregnancy. But Amy Furber, a British woman who went to her doctor complaining of stomach pains, fatigue, and weight loss back in March, only to be told she had an ovarian cyst and sent home with some antibiotics, doesn't have much time to think about it these days.
She gave birth to a newborn son on November 29 -- the same month she finally found out that "cyst" was a fetus.
She's busy with baby David, so allow me to get stark, raving mad on her behalf. That doctor just stole her whole pregnancy experience.
And as the world's most ridiculous witchy pregnant woman, I can tell you, you deserve the highlights, honey.
Because the wonder of hearing my daughter's heartbeat the very first time with my husband grabbing my hand and grinning like a madman made the two trips to the ER go up in smoke in my mind.
The first sonogram, where we saw her little legs crossed neatly over her private area, made the cankles complaints float away. And all it took was the baby doing the rumba in my tummy while my husband held his hand on my taut skin to make seven months of throwing up seem like a trip to the beach.
For every woman who glows for nine months and shoots rainbows out of her crotch in the delivery room, there are the rest of us who look at pregnancy as something we have to get through in order to get to the really good stuff on the other side. If you'd like to pretend you loved every minute of your pregnancy in order to feel better about yourself, go ahead.
I'm too selfish to enjoy spending every day for seven months (that works out to about 210 days if it puts it in perspective) making out with my toilet bowl. I needed a few bright spots in my weeks to keep me going.
And I can't discount how desperately couples need those nine months to let "I'm going to be a parent" sink in. We planned our pregnancy, and we still needed time to trade in the two-door sporty car for the four-door family sedan, time to enjoy a last few nights of nookie in the "wrong" room of the house, and time to spend crashed in bed (the only place I was comfortable) just being together.
If you took those away from me, I don't know if we'd have made it through the first several months of no sleep, no silence, and plenty of poop.
Some people look at the "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" phenomena with envy. I pity them. Sorry, docs, but you just don't do that to a woman.
Would you bypass the pregnancy experience if you could?
Image via MJTR (´･ω･)/Flickr