Like all of you I had plans. And while I was formulating the succession and the substance of my acts that should leed to fulfilling my destiny, I got pregnant. As rational as it could be with all the raging hormones, my first impression of that peculiar state of female body was why everybody tells you about the miracle of giving birth and nobody warns you how your digesting system will suffer from all the new changes inside. Then you discover that nobody would like to have sex with you. Meanwhile the proud father might experience something called sympathetic pregnancy, which simply means that you are the one to show consideration for him and his swingy moods. Then his mum will decide to join you for the gynecologist examination and will watch how a lady sticks a dildo-like ultrasound in your vagina just to witness the first heartbeats of the small undefined ball of tissue in your belly and when the kind lady will hand you a piece of paper to wipe out the lubricant the future granny and her son will start kissing you and hugging you in an outburst of incontrolable emotions and totally insensitive of your embarrassment. And you will stand there as confused as you might be, wondering ‘what’s wrong with you’ and why you can’t share all that happiness and just want all that pregnancy hysteria around to end. Most of your friends will talk only about the thing inside you, the dos and don’ts you must follow, and sooner or later you start to feel like Sigourney Weaver in Alien. And most of all almost nobody will feel comfortable to talk about all the fun stuff like ‘sex, drugs & rock’n’roll’ at your presence.

Then you try to burry yourself in piles of work but this doesn’t work either. ADD is nothing compared to pregnancy. You start forgetting what you are doing in the middle of doing it. Your mind is occupied with how to get back in bed and have a 2 hour nap. Or what you want to eat now or just fancying a moment of afternoon intimacy with the proud father who hasn’t been home for the past 2 weeks because is freaked out how life is changing together with your perfect proportions.

And that’s just the beginning. The first trimester. You are just trying not to imagine how does it feel with an extra 30 pounds in a few more months.

Then you go to your next appointment with your gynecologist and you are playing though – the career obsessed mammy who takes breeding as some archaic nature manner dating since long ago when they didn’t have computers, internet and rocket science, that seems like a mistake they forgot to fix genetically. And then you see it /still ‘it’ as nobody can tell yet if it’s he or she/ laying in an ancient roman manner in some dreamy relaxed state with its left hand either waving at you or just supporting its head like the Rodin’s Thinker (even the doctor can’t tell for sure from that black & white pixelated image). You burst in tears. 58 mm of pure joy. You are pregnant and that’s all that matters.