For some women, pregnancy is a time of rebirth. They love every second of it, from the moment of conception to the delightfully easy and drug-free labor 38 weeks later when the baby just slips out. They feel powerful, strong, at one with their bodies, and attuned to the miracle of life all around them.
Not Suzie. Thirty-seven years old when she got pregnant, Suzie spent most of her mornings dry-heaving for an hour or so. Nothing came up, probably because she wasn’t able to eat. She was nauseated and swollen, and even a sip of water would cause heartburn so intense that it felt like a small campfire had been lit in her esophagus and chest. It was terrible.
So Suzie did what always worked for her when she was feeling sick or couldn’t eat: She smoked pot.
