EDD: Egg Deposit Deadline

First egg ever

6 egg day

 23 September 2013

One of our six chickens has just begun laying.  Her first egg appeared two weeks ago today.  The first few were small, the last few have been about the size of a store bought large egg.  They are all delicious.

She's been giving us one a day, usually mid-morning, so I've gotten in the habit of expecting one in the morning.  I walk to the coop confident that I'll find another pretty, blue egg waiting in the egg box.  I sweet talk her, pet her, and tell her what a good chickie she is.  If the box is empty, I just come back later.

The past couple of days, though, I've really been almost peeved that she's not laying on a schedule.  I've been giving her an EDD, a deadline based on my convenience

About when it all started

Bitsey, the boss, mean muggin'

I've also been anxiously watching the others to see when they'll "go."  My two red stars or red sex-links were supposed to be the first ones to mature and lay eggs.  Neither is yet, despite one being the quickest to physically mature. I have been going out more and more to check the egg box as they seem closer and closer to laying.  Still, it's just been the one blue egg daily.

She isn't on my clock.  Gosh, somebody slap me.  Hi, my name is Kate.  You know, the birth activist who really thinks due dates are a complete myth?  What is the deal here.  I've gotta back off and let these feathered ladies do their thing.  They really do remind me of ladies of decades past with ruffled petticoats peeking out from under long skirts.

So anyway, due dates...estimated dates of confinement, expiration dates.  Yeah, they are all crap if you are healthy and your baby is, too.  I just read the most amazing birth story of a first time mother who gestated happily for 43 weeks and birthed a 10 pound baby boy with her patient, supportive doctor cheering her on.  Wow.  Where is he?  Can he teach seminars around the country?

Many of us, myself included, do have a last minute panic and feel like yes, I am going down in history as the first woman who was pregnant for forever.  We put so much pressure on ourselves sometimes, and so do the people around us.  It bubbles over as a meltdown most often or the kind of grumpiness that puts you in a funk.  I don't want anybody to spend those last days of pregnancy down and/or anxious.

It's just so hard for me to hear about an intelligent, informed mother going back and forth with her provider about an arbitrary date and being pressured, scared, or convinced to accept intervention when both she and baby are still thriving.  Even worse is hearing the woman who says things like, "I never could go into labor on my own."  Your dates were wrong, my dear, not your body's clock or hormones.

Yes, there are women who carry babies ten full months, over 42 weeks no matter how you add up the dates, but I honestly think that is rare.  Far more commonly do we miscalculate whether from lack of knowledge of how it actually all works, business, or just forgetting to track a month or two.  It's easy to do.  "Wait, did I ovulate last week or the one before?"  That one week makes a huge difference depending on your provider who will likely rely on a date from an early ultrasound (which you do NOT have to have).  Even fundal height can easily be off depending on who measures and how they do it.

We didn't all start menstruating on our 12th or 13th birthdays did we?  Do we all ovulate on day 14 and have 28 day cycles.  Do we all experience labor the exact same way?  Do we all have our morning (or afternoon or evening) constitution at the same time?  Do we all like to be intimate at the same time of day?  Nope.  Why on earth would we all fit into the very narrow window of acceptable dates for giving birth?  Great apes have something like a 60 day window.  Why is ours 28 days at best in most situations, since 37-40 is what's okay for women by the standards of many care providers?  Bravo for the evidence-based practitioner who understands that 41 and even 42 weeks are nothing to fear.  Sure, it's a period of watching and waiting, but not one inherently fraught with danger and fetal demises.

There are multiple ways of calculating your dates, at least 5.  Mine with Isabelle were spot on, just a few days apart.  With Will, they were all over the calendar, some falling in July, most early to mid August.  He was born August 22nd.  I was 41+4 calculating the most generous way, which I hear most midwives find to be the closest date to go by.  On "The Wheel" I would have been 45 weeks pregnant with him.  I very much was NOT 45 weeks pregnant.  He had vernix still, languno, and was quite plump.  That should give you pause and consider how many "full term" babies you've had or met who really were 36, 37, 38 weeks instead of 40, 41, or 42.  Contrary to popular belief, overdue babies do not get too big to be born vaginally.  They do the opposite.  A clinically post-term baby is shrunken since he or she has used up the mother's body's resources and is no longer thriving.  In fact, the only way to know if you were "overdue" is a thorough newborn exam and examining the placenta. 

So, as a chicken owner, I've decided to give them the same respect that I do to the human mothers around me.  Back the f&*# off.  Leave them alone.  The more I go out, the more the neighbor's dogs bark, and the longer it takes her to lay that one egg.  A watched pot, even feathered, does not boil.  If chickens didn't know when, where, and how to lay eggs, the culinary arts would be far different.  I've only had chickens since April.  People have been cultivating these charming, comical, and practically brainless birds for a looooooong time.  I bet mine will know what to do when the time comes, whenever that may be, and I bet each will do it on her own terms.

2 February 2014

That was written in a hurry a few months ago.  I literally started laughing at myself as I shut the laying box.  After Bitsey "went" (just as we birthy peeps say of "our" mamas), the other 5 followed spaced out by about a week.  There were some pheromones flying--the week before somebody else "went," the other who were already laying bullied her.  The laying ones got all exclusive.  It became a layer's only club.  Coco, the last one to "go" is still the odd man, well hen, out.  They just do not like her.

For the time being, we get 4-6 eggs a day rain, shine, or ice here lately.  All of my ridiculous frustration was forgotten until today when I realized that I've sworn to publish something daily and saw this 85% complete.  That's another bad habit of mine--jumping into a project and almost finishing, like so close it's absolutely ridiculous.  Out with the old, in with the new.

Chickens no likey ice

Sweet Coco with a pecked up comb

The two reds as days old chicks

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