Got Cervix?

I do, thank you, very much. "Check your cervix" day was an all around success, much to my relief. Although, I have to say, I am a bit disturbed by the actual length reading. 3.14cm...Now, there's nothing wrong with that reading--as a matter of fact, it is .14cm longer than it was 2 weeks ago (not much, admittedly, but every centimeter is a mile in the land of cervix...) What is disconcerting to me about that reading, is that it's Pi...

Anyone who knows me, knows that math and I are not friends. No, that's an understatement. It would not be hyperbole to say that my relationship with math would rival all the arch-nemisis relationships throughout history...the Montegues and Capulets, Ahab and the whale, the Yankees and the Red Sox...yes, it is that bad.

Ever since the introduction of long division (are you kidding me, with remainders?!) sometime in 3rd grade, I have known that math would have no good place in my life; it tormented me through my education. Algebra with Sr. Eleanor and her "I wish I had "x" all by itself" mantra could have driven me to drink if I hadn't been such a goodie-goodie. As a lover of the written word, I have to say that word problems are an abomination and a complete waste of the English language. When the hell am I going to get on a train in Chicago, going a certain speed and time it so that I can wave to someone in another train, going to opposite direction, at a different speed. Ugh. Who are these people?

In college it was "The Evolution of Mathematics"--a course designed for "non-math majors"---hello, "non-math major" is my middle name. The first few weeks were a breeze; it was a study of ancinet hyrogliphics--Cave-writing 101. I was actually getting an A in a math class. I should have known there was something askew in the fabric of the universe. Four weeks in, the professor started speaking in some math-ese foreign language that only the math freaks in class understood. The rest of us failed. I took a year off from my illustrious studies of math and pursued things I could actually accomplish--like ANYthing else. Then I took Finite math with a mad professor and his Igor-teaching assistant. I got a 42 on the final exam, but so did everyone else, so with the scale, I actually got a 72. I passed. That was it. The last I've seen of Math. We agreed long ago to just stay away from eachother and leave it at that....

So now, the universe's "perfect number" (ugh, gag), is actually at work inside my body. I am torn. Obviously I am grateful for the good reading; the reading that is up from 2 weeks ago (although my perinatalogist cautions me not to "get cocky" because of it--the cervix is a fickle little thing and could change it's mind at any time). I am so relieved that I dont' have to pack a bag and go "live" at the hospital for the next 13 weeks, with my feet up above my head and paging the nurse every time I have to pee (it could happen). And of course, knowing that the little peapod is safe and secure and feels comfortable enough in there to tap dance on the questionable cervix is a definite plus.

But does this mean I have to make peace with my arch-enemy and it's archetypal symbol--Pi? Can I possibly take this as a sign that my math teachers, who always used to say in response to my admittedly flippant, "when will I ever use this in the real world?", "You will..." in a knowing and cryptic sort of way, were actually right? Can that BE? I guess I have to re-assess...

And those other arch-rivalries? Can I learn anything from them? Well, the Montegues and the Capulets did bury the hatchet, so to speak...the Sox did win the world series...and Ahab? I can't remember how that one ends (cut me some slack, people--I read it in 3 days, 10 years ago...) But I guess the saga of Sarah and math has to come to some sort of amicable resolution, since right now, Pi is keeping my baby safe and protected from the harsh world on the other side of the cervix...