This week I've decided to go out on a limb and share a piece of my own creative writing...

Procreation

By Christina Andrade

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The conscious decision to spawn another life form was, if I may share in confidence, quite alien to me. First there is the nine month surrender of one’s body to an alien creature who uses your bladder as a trampoline, causes the exponential expansion of your waistline and has the gall to insist its host abstain from drinking beer! The (inevitable) ensuing initiation into motherhood will rival that of the most notorious fraternities. You will be forced into the handling of diapers filled with abominations that could rival nuclear waste. You will be serenaded with relentless wails- cries which burrow into your ears and pound on your eardrums with the voraciousness of a drug-fueled, heavy-metal superstar. The creature will always be hungry. You will one day find yourself blowing raspberries on your husband’s cheek in the grocery store because you have come that far from reality. You will never, ever, hear the words “thank you.” And yet, you will be filled with a love so profound and expansive you will wonder what it was you did with your life before this creature entered it.  I found it so nice; I’ve done it twice.