My little man is ten inches long!

I could say that if I knew that Ebry were a boy, but I don’t. I felt like saying it anyway.

The issue that’s bothering me the most this week is food:

1. On Wednesday, my childbirth prep teacher told us that we needed to be getting 100 grams of protein per day if we had any hope of not getting preeclampsia. She cited some spotty research by a doctor who doesn’t believe in control groups, and that was that. If you’ve ever talked food with me before, you know that I believe that U.S. Americans are obsessed with protein. I think this extends into expectations about nutrition during pregnancy.

2. On Friday, my midwife insisted that if I didn’t eat four servings of dairy per day, I needed a calcium supplement. I mentioned my love and constant consumption of greens; she told me to try yogurt. I asked about milk protein leeching calcium from the bones; she told me that was minute. I countered with the very true fact that countries with the highest milk consumption also have the highest rates of osteoporosis; she had never heard of such a thing and looked at me like I grew an extra head.

3. Over the weekend, I was reading from the very informative and holistic Complete Guide to Pregnancy and Childbirth by Sheila Kitzinger. She suggests that women measure their upper thighs weekly in order to ensure that they’re not gaining superfluous fat that might be difficult to lose after childbirth (page 98 of the fourth edition, published in 2004).

Here’s the deal: You all can bite me. My diet of whole, mostly organic foods is healthy and is nourishing my fetus quite well. My upper thighs are going to be pudgier when I’m done gestating Ebry than when I started, and that’s okay. We call those “maternal fat stores,” and they’re actually necessary for childbirth.