Matthew and I were talking yesterday about how sometimes it strikes us how odd pregnancy is. I’m letting a person grow inside me, and that person is beating the living daylights out of my insides. It’s even weirder to think that this is still how we do this…like in this day and age, with all our advancements, this is still how humans come into the world. There’s only so much you can improve upon, right? And with all the medical advancements, and all of the help available for conceiving, etc., humans, in all our glory, still grow on the inside of somebody. Still come out bloody and yelling.
It’s really funny, for some reason, for me to think about the fact that every woman who has birthed a baby has been pregnant. I know that sounds like a “duh” sort of statement, but think about it! No matter her level of sophistication, or her importance in world politics, or her scholastic achievement, if she’s given birth, she’s been pregnant, which is, you know, weird (even if it is beautiful and natural, etc). And if she’s been pregnant, she’s either pushed a human out of her *ahem* or she’s had it cut out of her belly. Talk about the great leveler. Nobody’s sophisticated at that point. Chanel and pencil skirts, forsooth! One time, you had somebody growing on your insides. I’m onto you.