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Opinions are like...well, me.

"Opinions are like assholes," the saying goes. And since I am an asshole, I conclude, based on the transitive property of equality, that I am like opinions. Or they, according to the symmetric property, are like me.

Math is hard.

I'm grateful to you all for your sincere good intentions in sharing your advice and opinions about prenatal care and birth options. I appreciate the warmth and caring that inspired it.


I am also grateful to getupgrrl, who said what I didn't have the nerve to.

I'm eager to share this experience with you, and more honored than I can say to know that so many people wish me well. But I have to confess that I'm not feeling especially receptive to advice at the moment, no matter how well-meant. I frankly admit I'm fragile. I simply can't stand to hear about a mother who almost died; a newborn in distress; or the fifty compelling reasons I'd be doing my child a grave disservice if I chose any option but __________. I just can't hear it right now.

When I'm concentrating primarily on making it through the next few weeks with my sanity intact, every other consideration seems like a distant distraction. I'm feeling my way through these first few months of pregnancy with exquisite caution, and as I try to figure out how I feel and what I want — imagine, after all this, the luxury of having a choice! — the advice just threatens to drown out the timid voices in my own head.

Not that I'm any stranger to hearing voices.