There is a song by the Beautiful South, 36D, about a gal that doesn’t seem to see that she has more to offer than her 36Ds. The chorus of which has run through my mind all day. “36D, so what? Is that all you’ve got?” But not as it relates to my own 36Ds.
I had an appointment at the birthing center this morning. The first thing they ask you when they come in is if you know how far along you are. “36 weeks” I said mindlessly. And immediately to the tune of 36D it started. But instead of “36D, so what! D, so what!” it has been “36 Weeks! Oh fuck! Weeks! Oh Fuck! Is that all that I’ve got???!!!”
For any of you unfamiliar with basic math or the duration of the average pregnancy let me spell that out for you. 40 weeks, subtract 36 and you have 4. Three and a half if I am actually counting, which evidently I was not.
I must have made an audible gasp as she wrote it down… “36 weeks and four days, so you’re due in just a little over three weeks” because the next thing she asked me is if another of the midwives had told me about her theory regarding second labors and pancakes. The Pancake Theory (as I have dubbed it) has set me completely at ease.
Emily’s labor and delivery was not as I had planned. Like the first batch of pancakes. The pan is either too hot or too cold, the batter hasn’t had a chance to sit. The first batch of pancakes tastes fine, sure, but they tend to be a hot mess.
But that second batch? Perfect every time. As soon as you flip them you think, whoa, I wish had tons more batter, I could make pancakes all day, I am the master of making pancakes. Rumor has it the second baby is like the second batch of pancakes more often than not.
“They” say that if you dream about making pancakes it means you are satisfied with your current situation and that you take pleasure in the simple things.
I daresay I will dream about pancakes tonight.