On Being a Woman
When I was young, I never got warm and fuzzy over babies. I think I was expected to. When my sister was born, I was excited. It was amazing to see a real person in miniature. Those tiny fingers and toes. Wow. I was amazed at how much that tiny being could poop. HOLY!
Well, eventually the novelty wore off. The work involved was too much and became a drag. Mother and her husband depended on me a lot. I was almost 13 years old when she was born so I was expected to be the vice-mother. Well, maybe not but definitely a built-in baby sitter who didn’t get paid because, aren’t we feeding you and dressing you and putting a roof over your head? Like I said, it was OK until the novelty wore off. I was, after all, a teenager and had other things on my mind. Movie stars. Boys.
By the time I was late teens, I took great pains to stay away from babies. Some women thought me cold and unfeeling. Some women thought me weird. Wasn’t it every woman’s dream to hold a baby? To have a baby? No.
When I was finally married and expecting, I was looking forward to see how this thing growing inside me will look. Besides, I wanted to experience childbirth. Like a biology assignment. Lucky for me, I saw it all. Since I was in a semi-sitting position at that crucial time, I saw the back of the head first, then the rest of the body. Baby’s arms flailed up and down feverishly and legs were kicking. What a kid, even then. Of course, I had no idea of the sex since I only saw the backside. When they told me it was a boy, I was so happy for husband. He wanted a boy more than anything.
There, project done and I got an A.