The First of Many

16 Apr

As I previously mentioned, I know 7,645 women who are currently pregnant, all of whom are supposedly due sometime before December 1 of this year. I say supposedly because the doctors have all calculated their due dates to be as such, but then again, sometimes babies have minds of their own and simply stay put until they are damn and ready to make their entrance and grace the earth with their presence. Unless, of course, the doctor schedules a c-section or a time to induce labor, to make it more convenient for said doc’s schedule, because you know that’s how most doctors do things these days, scheduling c-sections or when to induce labor so that it fits in with their own schedule as opposed to what’s going on with mother and baby, and ….


Sorry ‘bout that. Apparently started channeling my mother just there, the woman who considered my sister Elizabeth to be “on time” because she delivered her only five days past her due date. (The rest of us were anywhere from a week to three weeks late.)

Knowing many of these 7,645 knocked-up women personally and closely, and seeing what they’ve gone through and experienced in getting pregnant, I see more clearly now than before what a huge deal this is, what a process it is, a trek, if you will, of bringing another human being into this world. It’s not easy. Any of it.

And then once the baby is born? More trekking! More process! And now this.

Add it to the list—picking the wrong song = way #4,792 you can totally fuck up your child.

No pressure or anything, parents-to-be. But let me be the first to suggest that I don’t think you could go wrong with anything from the Beastie Boys catalogue. (Root Down, Shake Your Rump, and Get It Together would all be perfectly awesome choices.)

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