# Math is hard

I’ve been crunching some numbers, and I think the information is starting to add up.
Don’t want to go into too many personal details–I recognize that my brother may someday read this and will use his ick-out face as a barometer for how much information to share.

The calculations on the due date calculators are a bit fuzzy. They say: Tell us the date of your last period AND/OR the day that you conceived (if you know, but most people don’t), and we can roughly estimate about when you might have the baby, although only 5% of women actually deliver on their due date.

And my calculations are a bit fuzzier than most. I had an IUD implanted in March 2011–I’ve gone on the record, in a national way, about why this decision was right for me–and I was one of the lucky users that didn’t have a period, ever. So when I have to plug a number into a calculator about my “last period,” technically that makes me about 150 weeks pregnant. That puts me squarely in my 12th trimester. No kidding I have so many cavities.

So I gauged my due date based on the date that the IUD was pulled (the earliest I could possibly have gotten pregnant), combined with possibly dates of conception, layered upon when symptoms should be appearing. I can say with 68% certainty that I might be in about my 5th week. Probably.

That computes to a due date in mid-November. Cool, we can still go to all the summer weddings! But bummer, I’ll feel trapped inside with a screaming baby next winter, itching to get some sunshine but scared of slipping on the ice-sheet that is our front walkway. (The ice is an object of fear already, in this early stage of pregnancy, given that we are currently living through the Winter That Will Not End. Hello, Albany, it’s March … can we stop with the Winter Weather Advisories? Please?) But cool, I get to wear cute sundresses while I’m in the “I’m so cute, look at my bump, I feel great” trimester before I get to the fall outfits of leggings, oversized sweaters that still don’t cover my giant belly, and muu-muus in the “I’m a whale, get out of my way before I eat you, also do you shoes even match?” trimester. But bummer, I have to go through the whale phase eventually.

Obviously there are a lot of emotions around this major life event … most importantly, if my already-size-11 feet get any bigger, will I ever find shoes in stores that fit?