on finding her.

This photo was taken on Everett's due date by my good friend Hollie. I have spent this third pregnancy searching for the girl in this photo. I think I might have found her.

When I was pregnant with Claire, I didn't think a lot about labor. I trusted my body would be able to do what it was designed to do. I read a Bradley book. I took the hospital class. I didn't have opinions about induction or pitocin or drugs. I was told after my c-section that maybe my pelvis was odd-shaped.

Then came Everett. I knew I had to try to labor. I realized all of these old scars that I didn't know were there. I read a ton. I found supportive midwives. I did things differently, and after a long and difficult labor, he emerged from my odd-shaped pelvis.

I have come to realize that if you haven't walked into a hospital thinking that you'd have one kind of birth and left having had a surgery, you can't really know why a person would need to try. Just trust me, that for some of us, the need is real. I haven't met anyone whose birth stories have been like mine. And unless your husband had to drive you to the hospital after you'd been at a 10 and pushing for hours, then you probably can't relate to why I know I need to be in a hospital this time around.

I wish I knew why people say such dumb things to women when they're pregnant. Why we relive our horror stories. I can't hear about your botched forceps delivery. I just can't. I'm sure it's a great story. When I am holding my baby in my arms, you can tell me whatever you want. You can tell me that VBACs are risky. You can. But today, I will smile and nod but I won't be listening.