My Reproduction and Me - Part 1

I admit I am not a maternal person. Just the other day one friend of mine from my ex-ex-ex job reminded me that back then my famous line was 'I don't believe in reproduction'. Somehow I feel I should explain a little, not excusing, just explaining and just a little...

I believe that every or at least most human behavior services the ultimate purpose of reproduction that ensures the existence of the human specie. I never dare to underestimate the power of billion years of evolution. It doesn't give a damn about how free-spirited, independent-thinking you credit yourself are. All it ever cares is survival, more mutations, better, stronger, more fitted genes. It carves all these in your genes, hard-wires your brain. Oh is it ever sneaky. It sends out the nature calls and sets the biological clock ticking ever so loudly in middle of the nights and at your weakest moments. It shoots your hormones through the roof, makes your eyes watery and melts your heart. It not only leaves you no choice but also makes you believe this greatest idea is all YOURS, the best thing you have ever done, the true meaning of your life, and that missing piece of your incomplete life is finally there.

I never even thought about fighting it. I never was against reproduction. All I have ever been is indifferent. I could go either way. I really don't give a hoot. My husband wants kids, 1 vote vs. 0, so there you go. I only had one request. I had to go to Italy first. That's how I made peace with life, and that was done. Now here I am, 26 weeks into the battle at the sweet old age of 34. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I cannot climb stairs without breathing like a dog with rabies. Here I am, with a silly smile on my face every time she secretively moves from the lower corner of my tummy to the upper one, which is proximately at my throat. Here I am, end of the discussion.