The Politics of Paternity

I haven't posted for a while. Life has been very hectic, what with getting ready for a new baby and all. For those of you who don't know, there have been a great deal of complications with my pregnancy over the past few months that have turned our world inside out. We are no longer able to have a homebirth, and thus I have been thrown into the wonderful world of modern medicine. Not exactly what I had in mind, but since there is nothing that we can do about it, we have been diligently seeing the OB three times a week, visiting multiple specialists, and paying shitloads of money for doctors to poke and prod at me. Good times.

Our experience thus far has been much what I expected - people in positions of authority making judgments about my health and needs without so much as a second thought about consulting me about my wishes or desires. Before we even went to see the first specialist Dan and I decided that we would just present ourselves as a married couple - all of the hospitals we have been going to are Catholic. We figured it would just be easier. And, generally, it is. Except one little detail - that pesky thing called a last name. Obviously, we don't have the same last name. We wouldn't have the same last name if we were married, and many married couples don't so we didn't imagine it would be much of an issue. Boy were we wrong! Every single receptionist who has handled our insurance/check in information has become incredibly confused by this little detail. At our OB office in Lewiston it took us nearly fifteen minutes to explain to her that yes, we were married, but no, we did not have the same last name. Frustrating. When she finally figured it out she actually told me that WHEN I decided to change my name please let them know. Now, why would she assume that if I hadn't already changed my name that I would at some point in the future? This really rubbed me the wrong way, but it was Dan who jumped in and snapped at her that there would be no future name change. This really seemed to surprise her, and she dropped it.

Last week I went in to Saint Joseph's hospital to do my pre admittance paperwork at the birth center. Dan was unable to come, because he had a very important conference call that day at work. Also, he is saving as much of his vacation as possible for after the baby is born. Because, you know, in this country paid paternity/maternity leave is virtually non existant. But that is a rant for another day. So I was at the meeting by myself with a very nice nurse who was asking me all the usual questions. Medical history, family history, etc. Then she asked me if I was married, or if I was single. Now this question really irked me - because I am neither. I am certainly not single, I have been with Dan for nearly six years. And, I am not married. Why are we stuck in this binary? Shouldn't there be a third box for people who fall somewhere in between? Without really thinking, I answered married, because that is what Dan and I usually do in this situation. The reality is, we are much closer to married than we are to single.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized this might pose a slight problem at the hospital. When places like the dentist ask this question, telling them we are married is no big deal. They are never going to check, it makes things easier, and why should they care anyways? Does your marital status have some effect on the health of your teeth? But at the hospital they define you as married or single for issues of paternity. It turns out that because we are not married Dan is not the "presumed" father of the baby. So, he has to sign a paternity affadavit legally declaring that he accepts parenthood of our baby. This makes no real sense to me, doesn't putting his name and signature on the birth certificate indicate that he accepts parenthood? What further irritated me was the government website with all the necessary information about these affadavits. It was chock full of "warnings" to men about ensuring that they are 100% positive they are the father before signing anything. Now, this wouldn't bother me if married men were subject to the same requirements and warnings. The government assumes that married women never sleep around, and unmarried women always do? A marriage certificate is certainly no guarantee of fidelity, why does it come with the privelage of presumed paternity?

I often feel frustrated by this single/married binary. I know a lot of people who get married within a few months of meeting each other, and for some reason their relationship is given more "credability" than mine. Dan and I have been together for six years, own a home and lots of other debt together, and got pregnant on purpose. We have simply chosen, for various reasons, not to get married. I have a cousin, on the other hand, who got pregnant by a guy she had been dating less than a year, got married because of family pressure (even though he tried to back out the day before) and they don't live together. Yet, because they are married, their relationship is considered more committed, and more valid than mine. If this seems appropriate to anybody, I seriously question your process of logic.

So I have been stewing about this all week and I have come to the conclusion that this is merely one more form of "slut shaming" on the part of our government. This is one more example of how our government works to make unmarried women with children the "other" in society. I am not married, thus according to the government I should not be having children, and the paternity of my child must be questionable. Such a slut I am. Facepalm.

More with the pink and blue . . .

Dan and I attended our first birthing class two weeks ago at a local hospital. We were, as always, a few minutes late. When we arrived all the other couples were seated in a semi circle staring at us. At the front of the room there was a sign in sheet and name tags. There were two markers available to write your name on your tag. You guessed it! A blue marker, and a pink marker, so that everybody in the room could be made aware of your baby's gender. Seriously?!? Why would this matter? And what about people like Dan and I who have no idea what the baby's gender is going to be? As it turns out, we were the only couple in the room who didn't know the gender. I ended up writing both of our names in blue, because it was the marker closest to me. But then Dan (and this is why I love him) told me that he was upset because he had wanted to write his name in pink so that we could have a little bit of fun gender bending.

Alas, due to a set of unforseen circumstances we ended up finding out our baby's gender (it is kind of hard not to, when you are subjected to a 3-D ultra sound that lasts 2 1/2 hours - you can see everything!) We are having a girl! So as it turns out we get the last laugh! Our name tags are blue, but our baby is "pink."

We have been to two classes so far, and they have been pretty interesting. In the first class we were each asked to discuss our expectations/anxieties/hopes for our birth. It was truly amazing to me how many women in the room stated that they hoped that their doctor would just let them have a C-section and get it over with! Only one other woman in the room was hoping for a natural childbirth. She was the only one who didn't want to have an epidural. We were, of course, the only home birth couple in the room which resulted in people looking at us like we were crazy! Which reminds me, Nancy (the midwife) gave me a great comeback for people who respond "oh, you are sooo brave" when we say we are having the baby at home. She told me to ask them if they are planning to have an epidural, and then say "oh, YOU are so brave, I could never have that giant needle shoved down my spine!"

In our second class we had a nutritionist come and visit with us. Nancy has had me on a very strict diet from day one - and it is not an option. If you don't follow the diet, she won't deliver your baby! I have never eaten so well and balanced in my life. But it turns out, I was the only mom to be in the room who had given diet much thought. The rest of the women had heard nothing about it from their doctors - they didn't even know how much water they were supposed to be drinking in a day! Geesh.

Anyways, you all know my hatred for the pink and blue game. This does not mean that I am opposed to dressing my daughter in pink. On the contrary, I like the color pink. and I think my baby girl is going to look quite adorable wearing a pink dress now and again. But I think she will be equally adorable wearing a pair of blue overalls, or brown onesies, or any other "boy" item. So, look forward to lots of pictures of my baby dressed in a wide variety of colors/styles!

Ultra Sound Picture

Since we are having our baby at home, we haven't really had to spend any time at the doctor's office. Most people have an ultrasound at 20 weeks, and it only took us until 26 weeks to get around to doing it! The good thing about this though, is that the picture of the baby is pretty clear. This is an awesome photo, because you can really see the baby's face . . . and it is already cute! We decided not to find out the gender, because it doesn't matter, and the ultra sound technician was very surprised! But since we didn't want to know, he didn't look, so now nobody knows and there is no way to find out. So it will be a great big surprise when the baby is born.

On a sad note, we had kind of a crappy experience at the doctor. You have to go to the hospital for the u/s, and 0ur appointment was at 5:00. We had to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork, and then at 5:15 they told us there had been an emergency and we would have to wait. Since I had to come with a full bladder, I already had to pee at 5:00. By the time out u/s started it was 6:30 and I honestly thought I was going to pee my pants. It was awful, having that guy pushing around on my belly and bladder. But I made it through. We were at the hospital for almost 3 1/2 hours, which was miserable. That is exactly why I hate modern medicine!

But, I have a beautiful picture of my beautiful baby, so it was a good day.

A Random Rant

So what is up with people? I don't know why, but this last week just seems to have been full of interactions with sucky people. I think my biggest beef is with people who seem to think that because I am pregnant they must answer for me, and/or monitor what I am eating. Ever since I got knocked up everybody around me seems to think it is appropriate to tell me what they think of my food choices. The other day somebody told me that I shouldn't be drinking a soda, because it was bad for my baby. Seriously? Caffeine is universally acceptable for pregnant women. There isn't even a debate about it. And why did this person think that I should care what they thought? I know another woman who always looks over my food, and nods in approval when she see's me eating things like cottage cheese. She makes comments like "Oh good, your eating a banana. That's good for your baby." WTF!!! I am a grown woman, I can eat whatever I want. I don't need anybody's approval to have lunch. Now, if I were drinking a rum and coke, or eating a 10 pound block of feta cheese, perhaps people should feel concerned. But a soda? A banana? All I have to say is people SHUT UP!

And answering for me . . . what is up with that? I was in class tonight, and my baby was pretending to be Chuck Norris. I was making a face, as I was feeling a bit uncomfortable. The professor noticed, and asked me if I had a question. I apologized for making faces, and said that it wasn't him I was just a bit uncomfortable. And then not one, not two, but three other students in the class added comments about how I was pregnant, and getting kicked, and everything was fine. As if the professor hadn't noticed that I was prego already? I had already answered him, do these people think that because I am prego I can't answer for myself? This has been happening to me a lot, in all kinds of random situations. Perhaps the ticket guy was right, I should just start using the handicapped restroom and pretending to be mute, because clearly I am incapable of acting like a rational adult and taking care of myself. And don't even get me started on the lady who was doing my taxes. . . I will save that for another post.

End rant.

Pregnant = anti choice? WTF!!

So pretty much everybody that knows me knows that I am pro choice. Some might even say radically so. A woman's right to make her own choices regarding reproductivity, and health in general, is one of my favorite things to talk about. So the past couple of months have been extremely challenging for me. Now that I am visibly pregnant I have been getting lots of comments from the people in my world about the issues of pro choice vs. anti choice. (I generally refuse to use the term pro life, as this stance has nothing to do with life vs. death, but choice vs. non choice. Plus, I don't think they are actually pro life so much as they are anti woman. That is beside the point)

So it seems that because I chose to get pregnant, and I chose to carry the baby to term, and I chose to become a parent, that suddently transforms me from being pro choice, to anti choice. I have had several acquaintances comment that they are happy I have made "the switch" without actually asking me if I had. They simply assume that pregnant = anti chocie. I also had a group of anti choice protesters give me a thumbs up and congratulations, as if because I am pregnant I must agree be anti choice. Do they think that pro choice women don't ever have babies? (Perhaps that is just wishful thinking on thier parts . . . maybe they are hoping feminists will non breed themselves out of existance)

So, let me say it for everyone to know - I have always been and always will be pro choice. I chose to have a baby. I value that right to choose. I think that all women deserve the same option. If anything, being pregnant has only reaffirmed and strengthened my pro choice stance. I would not wish this on my worst enemy if it wasn't something that they really wanted. If I didn't want this baby, and were only having it because my other options were limited, I would be the unhappiest person alive. I don't believe the government has any business telling women how to use their womb - this isn't a political/religious/moral issue. It is an issue of self autonomy and self determination. I think that all people have an inherent right to self autonomy, and so I believe that all women have a right to control their bodies.

So one more time, just so everybody is clear. I am always going to be pro choice, pregnant or not. And my vagina is not a ballot box. People have no business "voting" on what I can and cannot do with it. In the meantime - a shout out to all my feminist friends who have recently had, or are having babies. You know who you are. I appaud us on our hard work to fight the stereotype that all feminists love abortions, and get pregnant just so we can have them, and then eat the fetus for breakfast. Good work on popping out all these adorable little babies and being pro choice in the process!

Socks!

Last week I was feeling a bit bored - so naturally I decided to go shopping. But I was not shopping for just anything, I was shopping for something very specific: Socks. Baby socks to be precise. I envisioned that I would walk into our local Ross and pick up a package of white baby crew socks, you know, just like the ones I buy myself. Alas, I was tragically wrong. Ross does not carry white baby crew socks. What they do carry are two options. You guessed it - blue socks and pink socks.

Now, I am no stranger to the world of gendered clothing, especially when it comes to babies. Everybody knows that the gender lines are drawn very clearly in the sand when it comes to babies. Pink and purple for girls. Blue for boys. It is no secret that I don't agree with this philosophy - all of the baby clothing that I have purchased thus far is yellow and green, the universally accepted gender neutral colors. I have also bought a few things that are brown, and orange, or even cream, but I have bought nothing pink or blue. I don't know if my baby will be a boy or a girl, but I don't really care. I just want a healthy baby. I also believe that just because a child is born anatomically one or the other has no real indication of how they will identify as adults. Hence, I hesitate to place them in a strict gender box by only dressing them in according to gender norms. This is a concept that many find annoying, or do not agree with. The other day somebody asked me if I was going to wait until after the baby was born to have a shower, because it would be rude to expect people to buy gender neutral clothing. Rude? I don't know about that.

So back to the socks. It wasn't so much the fact that they had blue and pink to choose from, it was the fact there was no third option. No white, no yellow, nothing. Just pink and blue. I could have handled this like a mature adult, but then I made the mistake of looking more closely at the socks and reading what was written on them.

The pink socks had pretty white lettering that said "Pretty Baby." The blue socks had bold typeface that said "Little Explorer." At this point, I thought my head was going to explode. I mean really, are we so concerned about gender identity that we have to gender our babies entire bodies, including thier feet? I mean they are feet. The Pretty baby vs. Little explorer theme is basically repeated throughout all baby clothing. Girls are princesses, ballerinas, divas, beautiful, pretty, and sweet. Boys are rough, active, athletes, and little men. Girls get kitties, flowers, and butterflies. Boys get trucks, fire engines, baseball bats, and lions. While this bothers me tremendously, I found it somewhat more bothersome when they put it on a pair of socks. It is as though we can pass up no opportunity to force our children into the "box" of gender roles.

So, I left Ross, and continued shopping until I found one place in town that sold little white baby crew socks. I refuse to limit my childs possibilities in life by telling them they must conform to some ridiculous standard of gender identity. If my little girl wants to be an explorer then I will take her to hike the Inca Trail. If my little boy wants to be a princess, I will buy him a tutu. And as for gendering their feet, not a chance in hell. My baby can wear white socks, just like all the adults in the world I know.

Religulous

This weekend Dan and I visited our local "alternative" movie theater to see the documentary by Bill Maher titled "Religulous." The title in and of itself is fairly revealing, it is a documentary about how ridiculous religion and religious people can be. Maher talks to Christians, Muslims, Jew, and a guy who runs the church of pot. He travels all over the world to interview people; he spends time in Israel, and he visits a theme park titled Holy Land, in Florida. Over-all, I really enjoyed the film, but there were a couple of issues that I wanted to take note of.

In the beginning of the film Maher interviews a group of truck drivers at a truck stop chapel, and he asks them if they think the Bible is the word of God. He states that his belief is that the Bible is the word of man, and by man, he means men. Literally, as in people who have a penis. At this point in the film I was thinking to myself "right on Bill!" The bible was written by people with a penis, and I think this is oftentimes overlooked. Where do women fit in? They had no hand in writing or translating the text, so is it surprising that they are given very little power through the channels of Christianity? I think not. But here comes my beef with Bill - after making such an astute point about the patriarchal control over the bible, he proceeds to film his entire documentary without interviewieng very many women. Sure, there were a few he interviewed at Holy Land, and he talked to one female reporter in Amsterdam, but that was it. He didn't talk to any female pastors or religious leaders of any sort. I find this intersting - some might argue this is because there are very few female religious leaders. To these people I answer, bull shit. I happen to know not one, but two. And if an Atheist from a Red State knows two female church leaders, I am fairly certain that Maher's legions of assistants could have found some to be interviewed.

My other source of dissapointment with the film was a much more personal idea. One of the things I am most interested in is the idea that many Christians have about the end of days. Many of them (in my understanding) believe that it will be preceeded by global and economic turmoil, earthquakes, fires, floods, hurricanes, etc. Many of these same people also believe that Global Warming is a hoax, and that the government need not impose any regulations to safegaurd the environment. (Cough, Bush, Cough.) So either these people think that destroying the planet is OK, because this is what God wanted - or they believe that it is not humans destroying the planet but God. Either way, I just can't follow the logic. After the past eight years of radical right wing rule we have done more damage to the earth than I ever thought possible - and these people merely believe it is a sign of the coming End of Days. And they are happy about it!!! Becuase that means they can be with Jesus.

So, back to my dissapointment. Maher touches on this concept, but fairly briefly. I would have liked a much more in depth analysis - perhaps looking into Bush's environmental policy as funded by the Christian voting block.

But enough with what I didn't like about the film. Onto what I really liked . . . it was freaking hilarious!! Maher does a great job of finding interesting people with legitimately crazy shit to say. I also really enjoyed his comments about the need for atheists to unite as a voting block. He makes an excellent point - that the number of atheist in our country is nearly 15 times the size of the NRA. Yet the NRA pulls a lot of political pull in Congress, and with our electoral candidates. He speaks of the need for all atheists to speak up about their beliefs, and make atheism more socially acceptable. Until we are a visible minority, our political needs will never be met.

I think this is a very interesting concept. I am, for the most part, very open about my atheism. I don't think it is anything to be ashamed of or should need to hide. But I am very aware of how people will generally react when I tell them I don't believe in God. There are usually two types of people. The first will look at me in horror, as they attempt to comprehend what I am saying to them. These are generally the people who cannot understand how a person can be both moral and athiest. Immediately they will begin trying to engage me in an argument about how I am wrong and that I must really, deep down, be a Christian. Just a little bit? The other group of people won't engage me, they will instead assume that they have some sort of moral high ground and they will decide that I am an inherently flawed person for whom they should have no respect. These are my favorite types of people! There are some people who are understanding and accepting, but they are generally few and far between. So, I understand Bill's call to action that all atheists must become more vocal if we ever want to see changes made in our favor. On the other hand, I understand the hestitancy that many people feel. Atheism is not accepted by the vast majority of Americans, and I don't see that changing in the near future.

So, I highly reccomend that you see the film. If only because there is a great scene in which the leader of the pot church lights his hair on fire! I found the film to be very thought provoking, and these are concepts that I will be chewing on for the next couple of days.

Handicapped?

So Dan and I decided to go out on a hot date last night, which for us means dinner and a movie. We went to see Religulous at a little theater downtown. I may write some of my thoughts on the movie later . . . very interesting. So before the movie started I decided that I had to pee, because I always have to pee. So I walked out of the theater and into the lobby - which is very small and you have to walk right past the front door and ticket person to get to the ladies room. So the ticket person is a man - and as I am walking towards him he is staring at my belly. I don't mean politely glancing at my belly. I mean staring. A lot. Hard. So I am a bit uncomfortable, and as I get closer he looks up and smiles at me. I smile back, and he takes this as an invitation to say something. What does he say? Dialogue:

Me: Smile
Guy: There is a handicapped bathroom straight back, and you are more than welcome to use it.
Me: Smile and Nod

Seriously? Did this guy really just direct me to the handicapped bathroom? I mean, isn't that reserved for handicapped people? Does being prego qualify me as handicapped? But seriously, what was I supposed to think. Did this guy think I was too huge to fit inside the regular sized stalls in the non handicapped bathroom?

Still not sure whether I should be insulted or amused I use the non handicapped bathroom and return to my seat, where I relayed the story to Dan. Dialogue:

Me: Seriously? How is one supposed to respond to that?
Dan: Have you seen my baseball? (With lisp)

Brush those pearly whites.

So about six months ago I had a dentist appointment - and apparentaly at that time I scheduled my next appointment. That is right, I scheduled an appointment six months in advance. It is a very good thing that doctor's have administrative assistants who call you and remind you of these things, or I would have never remembered. The only problem is that I have a habit of screening my calls, if I don't recognize the phone number I won't answer. I feel like if it is somebody important they will leave me a message and I will call them back. (Note to friends: if you all me from an unknown number please leave a message) So, the dentist office had left me a couple of messages about my appointment, which I needed to reschedule, and I kept thinking I would call them back. But alas, I have a severe case of Preggy brain. For those of you who are not familiar with this disease, it is what happens to all pregnant women causing them to forget anything and everything, and making their friends and family worry that they are going senile prematurely. So, I kept forgetting to call them back and re schedule.

On Thursday I decided to step outside my box and answer a phone call from a phone number I didn't recognize. It was the dentist's admin assistant. Dialogue:

Me: Oh no I am soooo sorry I was going to call you back and I completely forgot. I can't make it to my appointment tommorow because I have a meeting at work that I cannot miss. Can I re schedule?

Other Lady: Well, I don't see how you could have forgotten, blah blah blah blah blah. (Basically, she was really pissed off that I hadn't called, and gave me a lecture about how the dentist is very busy and is booked weeks in advance, and blah blah blah blah blah.)

Me: Oh I am so sorry. Is there any way I can re schedule?

Other Lady: Well, OK. I had a cancellation for next Tuesday at 9:00. Will you need a reminder call on Monday? (I suspect that this was not an offer made out of courtesy, but rather out of sarcasm)

Me: Oh that will work just fine. Thank you so much. I was also going to let you know that I am about 5 months pregnant, I am not sure if that makes a difference at the dentist, but just in case.

Other Lady: Ooooooh!!!!! You are pregnant!!!!! Oh no wonder you forgot!!!!!! Blah Blah Blah Blah. Don't you worry about forgetting to call it is completely fine!!!!

So, it was a weird conversation. This lady was PISSED that didn't call sooner to change my appointment, but then ceased being annoyed the second I said the P word. I thought this was very strange- she actually told me I shouldn't worry about making phone calls because I should be resting.

The conversation really got interesting when I asked if I could please also schedule an appointment for my partner. Uh-oh, the other P word. Silence on the other end of the line.

So you can guess what happened next. Or at least my vivid imagination gave this woman all kinds of interesting thoughts. I patiently waited for a response, as I envisioned this woman's face growing red, thinking that I must have been artificially inseminated by my P-word, and therefor did not deserve her kind understanding of my previous failure to notify.

Lady: Oh, your partner?

Me: Yes, my partner.

Lady: Oh, um, are they also a patient here?

Me: Yes, my partner referred me to you.

Lady: OH, um, your partner?

It was a waiting game. She didn't want to ask me for HER name, and I didn't want to spoil the fun by telling her my P-word was a HE.

So, I decided that I should let spend the rest of the afternoon wondering about the logistics of how someone with a partner and not a husband had gotten knocked up. I told her that I was getting another call and would call schedule my P-words appointment when I came on Tuesday.

New to Blogging

It appears that time has worn down my resistance to blogging. Actually, it has more to do with the fact that all of my friends live far away - most of them in blue states, (sigh) - and since I read their blogs, they will feel obligated to read mine. So I have been discussing the blog idea with Dan, my partner, for a couple of weeks. Mostly, we have been debating what to name my blog. We have also been discussing what to name our unborn child - but since we have until June for that the blog name seemed far more pressing. It turns out that Dan was a little bit of help, but not much. Dialogue:

Me: What should I name my blog?
Dan: I don't know, what are you going to be blogging about?
Me: My life.
Dan: Then name your blog - DarciGraves.
Me: That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard.

This is typical thought process for Dan - he is a super geeky engineer and everything for him consists of logic, reason, and usefullness. For example, he does not find sexy shoes to be sexy, he would rather I wear snow boots because that is a far more practical choice in this part of the world.

I digress. The idea for a blog came from two different places. The first was my sister. She thought it would a great idea if I started a pregnancy blog. You know, post pictures of myself week by week, write about my cravings, how I am feeling, etc. This struck me as a very boring idea and something that nobody but my mother would really care to read. So I ignored her.

The rest of the idea finally came to me after attending Dan's company christmas party last week. Yes, I know it is January. The party was postponed due to the massive amounts of snow that we had in the month of December. (snow boots really are more practical) So at the party I had the distinct pleasure of watching as many of Dan's colleagues became increasingly uncomfortable as they searched for the proper words with which to address me. No, I am not Dan's wife. Should they say fiancee? Girlfriend? Wife to be? Baby mamma? Oh the pleasure of watching them squirm and stutter while staring at my baby bump. Of course they all have good intentions, not wanting to offend us by using the wrong term.

So a few days later I was ranting to my BFF, who also happens to be an unmarried mother in a long term committed relationship, about the "label" situation. Apparentaly her partner refers to her simply as "his lady" which works for him because he is a super artistic actor guy who can pull that sort of thing off without sounding stupid. For the rest of us, it is a far mroe sensitive subject. If we say domestic partner, or partner, people think we are gay. Which is fine with me, but then as my BFF found out, you have to deal with awkard questions about artificial insemination.

The reality is, Dan and I have been together for so long that people tend to assume we are married and I am often referred to as Dan's wife. We actually stopped correcting people a couple of years ago. What we do correct are people who refer to me as Mrs. Funke, or Darci Funke, or any variation thereof. We simply say, actually it's Darci Graves. This really confuses people in a red state, most of whom cannot imagine why a married woman would not change her name. Now I could rant for hours about the name change issue - but we will save that post for another day. So to make a long story short, I decided that blogging about being an unmarried pregnant woman in a red state was a far more interesting topic than simply blogging about being pregnant. You see, I already face enough crazy challenges simply by virtue of being a feminist in a red state - but you throw a big belly in and things start getting really crazy.