I remember when I was pregnant with my firstborn. Well, technically I wasn’t “pregnant” pregnant, but since all my girlfriends were pregnant at the same time as my surrogate, I really experienced something of a phantom pregnancy. I mean, the only thing that differed was that I didn’t experience a widening of the vaginal canal after nine months, and have to have Yves St Laurent flown in for a private consultation on a new designer vagina. Aside from that, everything else was the same. I had bizarre cravings for chocolate covered pickles and Oreo escargot, I was bloated for nine months straight, and I felt nauseous every time I saw Phil Donahue’s face on the television. I limited my smoking to two or three puffs a day, and cut drinking down to singles only. It was really quite the experience, and I think it really prepared me for when we adopted our second child.
Motherhood is fantastic. It’s like an excuse for everything. And personally, I really understand where Mother Teresa was coming from, touching lepers and all. Like if they were my children I probably wouldn’t, but wanting to be like a mother to the world, that’s really fantastic.
