wonder twin powers, activate! (please!!)

Years ago when I was preparing to travel through eastern Europe, when it was a region of the world still unsure of itself, having just emerged from beneath the fist of Soviet dominance, I collected recommendations from various sources on what to have with me on my trip. While shopping for these items, I found myself again and again in the camping section. I naturally concluded that visiting eastern Europe must be something like camping. When I got to eastern Europe it wasn’t really like camping so much as it was like backpacking – which made sense since much of the time I was backpacking. And backpacking can resemble camping, and well, I can’t drink the water here without getting sick either, and overall, it was a fine time.

We’ve received a list of supplies from our midwife that we’ll need for the homebirth. Off we went to shop for said supplies, some, about which I admit, I had no idea. (underpads? is that something you wear or something like a drop cloth?? - which apparently we also need (!) could it be something super heroes wear beneath their capes and leotards? maybe Underdog wore underpads?) We wander into the various drug stores and pharmacies attempting to check off another item or two, and each time there we were - in the aisle marked "Incontinence". Oh dear. Underdog wouldn't be caught dead hanging out around here. I look to my hands for a special ring of some kind, something to talk into or flip open. I need something to to create a laser beam. But I find only my wedding ring, wedged below a knuckle swollen with nine month's worth of prenatal body juices.

Many comparisons could be made of preggos to the old and frail, and yet I have to think of myself as strong. I caught myself thinking of myself as weak – after all I’m tired, achy, and getting out of my spot in the memory foam on the bed requires a something equivalent to a nine-point turn. I have to change my idea of myself though. I’m strong like dental floss is strong, like wild flowers are strong, like water.

Boundaries continue to blur. The life "cycle" is a tangle of mobius strips and pregnancy is part of a secret club I didn’t bring the right attire for, so the maitre d’ forced me to put on some too-big jacket with an ugly crest. I’m way out of my league.