Another milestone is within reach. I am just a few days away from 24 weeks. Or 6 months, whichever you prefer. And folks, you do have your preferences.
Before getting pregnant myself, I used to wonder why pregnant women had to be so obsessive as to relay the length of their pregnancy via weeks. They sounded like teenagers in their first "real" relationship who were all too eager to share the good new lovey news.
"Oh my God, we've been together for, like, two weeks and four days. We're celebrating our three week anniversary this weekend! I love him so much!!!!"
I used to always smile politely at their peppy pregnant answer of 14 weeks while quickly doing the math in my head to determine how many months they were, since after all, the world knows a woman is pregnant for nine months, and all I really wanted to know was how close she was to popping.
Then I got pregnant myself, and discovered that I'd been lied to. Just like the fact that Christopher Columbus apparently did not sail the ocean blue in 14-hundred and 92 to discover the America where we live, pregnancy is not nine months long, my friend. It's ten.
What?, you ask. Or perhaps you actually are thinking, WTF?
Doctors measure pregnancy by weeks. Forty of them to be exact, which, if you are a math genius like myself, you've already figured out makes ten months instead of nine. That's because they actually begin tracking your pregnancy from the first day of your last period. Why? Because they can. And because they can't pinpoint the exact hour during which sperm hit egg, so they go back to the last milestone they can track: that monthly shedding of a uterus wall. That You Are Woman, Hear Me Bitch marker of every month.
So this is why pregnant women love to answer you with weeks instead of months, because upon known conception, they are brainwashed to track this thing by the week. It's how the doctors talk to us. Their little measuring tapes that they start breaking out around week 20, like you're an obese 15 year-old at Fat Camp, measure your appropriate size via WEEK NUMBER, not inches. Measuring at a week ahead of where they've tracked means you may deliver a week early.
Of course, I measured exactly on the mark last visit. Sigh.
Basically, bear with us when we automatically spew numbers at you on a 1-40 scale, because it's how we've been trained. But ladies, if you wish to be Good, consider your audience when answering this question: if this is a woman who has given birth in her life within the past, well, EVER, week her up. She'll know, understand, and love it. If it's a woman who hasn't given birth herself but has been surrounded by the hormonal hell of pregnancy often, hit her with that seven-days-at-a-time count.
If, however, this is a young lady who has not waded through the world of waiting for her water to break, try to give her months. She'll feel more comfortable and look at you like you've still got some normal human being left about you. If it's a guy, father or not, I suggest you just be vague. If they ask how far along you are, say, "Due end of December!" or "Almost there!" or "Well, getting there!" and smile, because they don't understand it anyways and they are just trying to be nice. Thanks, boys.
After all, you are the ones that get us into this nine month mess for forty weeks. And I never was any good at arithmetic.
No comments:
Post a Comment