I just watched this video on Dooce, and I was totally digging it right up until the very last frame. You know, the one with the crying newborn and the dead guy. Because at the first yelp of that little wiggling human my heart seized up and my breath shortened and all I could think was HOLY CRAP I AM BUILDING ONE OF THOSE RIGHT NOW. And it scared the shit out of me.
Which to me seems like a perfectly normal response. I mean, doesn’t every first time mother look down at her belly sometimes and think, hey, it would probably be a lot easier if a puppy came out of there. Or a unicorn. Or all those pain aux raisins I’ve been eating.
Except we all know the pain aux raisins have spread out over my derrière. And unicorns aren’t real. And there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to pick up dog poo off the sidewalk.
So baby human it is. Which I am genuinely excited about. It’s just that I have moments of total astonishment at what is about to happen here. We’re bringing a life into the world– a life that we need to, well, keep alive. And nurture. And cultivate.
Oh, and that life is going to come out of my hoo-hah.
And if that’s not enough to strike the occasional bout of exquisite panic into the hearts and minds of pregnant ladies everywhere, I don’t know what is.