The Fertile

There are certain women that ooze matronly love with their confident smiles, easy temperament, and wide, birthing hips. They were designed for breeding. Men recognize these women and seek them out for propagation.

Of course, we are all “technically” engineered for reproduction. The male and female genitals line up, and it doesn’t take a “brain scientist” to know what you are meant to do with them. Intercourse can be an enjoyable and rewarding experience for both parties involved, when done correctly.

Sometimes the act of intercourse is just about having sex, and sometimes intercourse is about reproduction. If both parties wish to avoid impregnation, preventative measures must be taken. But if both parties wish hard enough, and the intercourse proves successful, impregnation will occur.

The male’s work is now complete.

For the female, the commitment has just begun. Her body is now called to action: a home for the embryo. You may notice that particular glow that only a pregnant female possesses. It is the blush of satisfaction knowing she will avoid all manual labour for the next 40 weeks. Do not ask her to help you lift a heavy box.

The fertile female can look forward to tender breasts, mood swings, unusual vaginal discharge, an enlarged abdomen, the excruciating pain of childbirth, and at least 18 years of self sacrifice.

They will tell you it’s worth it. They will tell you it’s not that bad, if you have the epidural. They will tell you it’s challenging, but oh so rewarding. They will even tell you that they would do it all over again.

Some people are kidding themselves and trying to kid you too. Maybe they had a child because they forgot to take preventative measures, or because everyone else was doing it, or because they wanted an accessory that they could accessorize.

But, there are a few who are actually cut out for motherhood. They are nurturers by nature. They listen, they love, they have an easy laugh, they have a tender touch, and they exude warmth. They had a home, the baby just had to move in.

I do enjoy cooking, and cleaning, and educating people about manners. I even enjoy children (in small doses), but I currently do not share this facility for mothering. I’m inattentive, inconsistent, inexpressive, and inconsiderate. I only laugh at my own jokes, and I’m not very good at keeping pets or plants alive.

And I don’t know if the mothering instinct can be learned, or taught. Perhaps it’s attached to my biological clock and when the alarm goes off, I will instantly become fit for child rearing. But what if it isn’t?

Then will I tell you it’s worth it? That it’s not that bad, if you have the epidural. That it’s challenging, but oh so rewarding. That I would do it all over again.

I sure hope so.

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2 thoughts on “The Fertile

  1. Willow says:

    Well said! Personally I don’t know if I am willing to sacrifice the “luxury” of jumping on a trampoline, or having a good belly laugh without peeing myself! No matter how wide and suitable my hips may be for birthing!

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