C-Sections Aren't So Bad
At least mine weren't. And I was 40 and 43. My faith sustained me. A little backstory first. I married at 39. Being a devout Christian, I felt I had a promise of marriage and kids, so when I met my lovely geologist husband at the Division of Mines and Geology in San Francisco, I didn’t hesitate to, you know, do what you do to make babies. I got married in a $70 creamy off-white dress that you could wear to dinner, which looked great on my size 10 body. However, 2 months later, it was clear I wouldn’t be wearing it for a while. So I put on the pounds right away. By the ninth month, when a woman sees her gynecologist once a week, I was huge and extremely uncomfortable. I could hardly turn over in bed, which is about when some women grab their doctors’ coat collars and shout, “Get this thing out of me!” “I’m so biiiig,” I wailed to my doctor. “No, not really,” he would always reply. “You’re fine.” “What’s happening down here, that’s going back and forth?” “That’s the head.” “The head...