Pregnant brain and mother instincts

I was never one to be too fond of children.

A few years ago I could be quoted as saying, "...they are selfish, needy, noisy and always have boogers running down their noses. Who in their right minds would want to make one?"

Also, I have always thought that there is something architecturally wrong with a whole person coming out of my vagina. This always scared the bejesus out of me. Why can't there be storks? Or why can't we be like kangaroos or something?

However, like everything else in my life, if it is scary and I should be running the other way, I jump right in.

Take a look, for instance, on the answers I have given to the following life questions:

- Wanna move to another country where you barely speak the language?
- Sure!

- Wanna go diving where sharks eat?
- Why not?

- Wanna climb a steep mountain without a belay system and where a girl died last week?
- Sounds like a plan!

- Wanna quit your job and start your own business when you have zero cash?
- Okie dokie!

- Wanna go spelunking in a freezing cave with lots of mysterious deep holes and when it is 20 degrees outside?
- Bring it!

- Wanna get married when we have no place to live?
- Yes!

- Wanna get divorced when YOU have no place to go?
- Alrighty.

- Wanna get married again?
- Yup!

- Wanna move across the country and start all over again?
- Where do I sign?

- Wanna have a baby?
- Yes, baby!

So, needless to say the mother instincts didn't kick in right away.

To be completely honest, I was more worried about getting fat than anything else when my period was late and my boobs started growing exponentially from day zero of ovulation.

When I left the doctor's office, where I peed in yet another cup, this time an official doctor's one, and it confirmed that I was in fact pregnant, I was in a transe. I wondered what kind of mother I would become.

You see, I don't like mothers. I love mine, but I find mothers in general to be pretty annoying. They all think their offspring is the best thing since peanut butter and jelly and the very busy ones look like shit, so being a mom was not one of those dreamy aspirations from my childhood. As a matter of fact, I didn't like dolls. I loved stuffed bears. I changed their diapers and gave them milk, but the dolls seemed too real, so they went neglected in a drawer.

For a while, I joked about my lack of motherhood inspiration, by saying that if a kid of mine said, "mom, I am hungry!" I would say back, "me too! what should we do?"

I left the doctor's office, which was in the middle of a very busy intersection and, strangely and like a sign, a momma duck and her ducklings passed in front of me, heading who knows where. I watched her as she crossed the road, where cars honked, and kept watching when she and her babies passed a dangerous construction site, full of trucks and cranes and evil machines, before disappearing safely in a corner.

I understood then, the heavenly message, "If she can do this, maybe so can I."

There is a book called "The Female Brain" where there is a whole chapter on how a woman's brain changes when she becomes pregnant.

Blame it on hormones, but I can feel those changes kicking in. I am suddenly OBSESSED with babies. I daydream about them. I look at pictures of babies in maternity magazines like they are food. I daydream about holding my child, touching its little feet, making it smile, being a good momma.

When the doc gave me a "pregnancy kit" that had a tiny, little firstborn diaper in it, I cried for a good few hours (but then again I weep at a drop of a hat these days). My poor husband didn't know what to do when all I could say while holding the diaper was, "It's so little!"

My obsession extends to my plants. When a new baby tomato, or new baby pepper is born, I take a picture of them and if you are my neighbor, you will hear me talking with them (yes, I am the crazy pregnant lady that talks with her plants).

My friends that are also not certain about children keep asking me to tell them the truth, and nothing but the truth, about the whole experience, to know if it is all that is cracked up to be.

The truth is, it is, and more. When the baby moves I feel a deep connection to it and a sense of protection. It's a person I love so dearly already and can't wait for it to come out so I can hug it and care for it, even if it is through a tiny vagina. The pain of birth, actually, no longer scares me. I see it now as just a passage, a ritual, something that has to be done so all the real wild rumpus can begin.

Because I am carrying this life, I feel so blessed. I secretly feel sorry for my husband for not being able to experience this at such a level.

I always wanted to be a man. I wanted to pee standing up, and be able to travel to remote locations by myself without fearing being raped and murdered. I wanted to not feel cramps and have periods.

For the first time in my life, however, I feel that being a woman is the best sex to be, so keep kicking me, baby person.