I don't disagree with my husband that there probably is within us a subconscious, animalistic desire to procreate. I think there is much more to it than that, and only after having a baby myself and going through that first tumultuous year of parenthood can I understand the real driving force behind why we choose to have children.
Many people told me their horror stories of birth. Many people rolled their eyes or laughed at me when I said I wanted a homebirth for my first baby. Many people told me I was being naieve or foolish. And many people close to me thought I wouldn't be able to do it: that I wouldn't stay at home the whole time, not for my first baby, or that I wouldn't cope without strong pain relief.
You tentatively get out of bed and as you take each ritual step into the nursery you realise that your steps are a little lighter and the quick sand you feel yourself walking through most days is now more like a muddy puddle. Your head feels, dare you say it "clearer" and the morning routine not as daunting.
There is no woman out there who has gone through the life changing and shit scary ordeal of bringing a tiny human, kicking and screaming into the world that can hand on heart say they have not thought at least once that they are losing their mind whether it be the result of one of "those" days or the early signs of post natal illness.