Around nine years ago, I fell pregnant for the first time. I was very excited to be pregnant. I wanted to do everything right. I was committed to remaining vegetarian, and I would have, except for bacon (Cravings. What can you do?) I tried to avoid situations which might impact on the growing foetus. I read as much as I could about pregnancy, birth, and what to do when the baby came. After the first awful nauseous part was over, and before the elephantine final weeks, I enjoyed the experience. I enjoyed feeling the baby move inside. I felt lucky to have been able to fall pregnant and that everything seemed to be going well. And it continued to go well — First Offspring was born, and we went on to have three more Offspring, and each time, I marvelled at the way my body adapted and changed to accommodate growing a tiny person inside and how they came out, everytime, and nobody died (although given that kind of pain, it felt a lot like death at the time).