Animal Instinct

In the midst of the undeniable chaos that is the last month of the semester, I found myself taking a breather to munch on a bagel yesterday afternoon. Much to my surprise, the UK network was showing "March of the Penguins," and while I dined on cream cheese, I became transfixed on the images of those quirky animals as Morgan Freeman's voice hypnotized me.

I could only spare about half an hour to watch the penguins, but in that time I learned a lot about their lives as parents. After the mother penguin lays her egg, she hands it over to dad and hobbles for miles across the ice in search of food. While she gorges in the ocean, the father penguins dutifully tend to the eggs perched on top of their feet, surrendering food for up to four months while they huddle together for warmth.

Eventually, the mother penguin returns looking fatter than ever, stuffed with food to share with her newborn chick. The father gets a break to go eat, and once he tends to his bare necessities, they are reunited as a whole family- mother, father and baby.

While that sounds like a picture fit for a Hallmark card, the harsh scenarios that punctuated the penguin life cycle were enough to make me cry, "Why, Morgan Freeman? Why?!"

Many of the baby penguins died. For some, their mothers were nabbed by large marine mammals in the sea, so they never returned to nourish the chick. Others were abandoned by the overworked fathers that had no choice but to seek out food before the mothers could return. A few of the little ones were snatched up by hideous predatory birds that looked like a cross between seagulls and vultures.

But the most tragic scene of all was of a mother penguin throwing her head back in anguish upon realizing that a blizzard had claimed her baby. In his dark, understanding voice, Morgan Freeman said, "The loss is unbearable."

Although my only relation to penguins is an unmistakable waddle, I understand the dedication they have to their offspring. Being a parent makes you a protector. We haven't been formally introduced yet, but I already know without a doubt in my mind that I would do anything for my daughter if it would keep her safe and happy, even if it meant carrying her on my feet for the entire winter season.

Early in my pregnancy, I asked my parents how to cope with not ever wanting your child to get sick, hurt or sad. I believe my mom said something to the effect of, "I'll let you know when I figure it out," and my dad replied that it makes you wish you could take the pain in their place. I definitely acquired a new appreciation for my parents when it dawned on me that I'm preparing to be someone's mother.

Nature has a way of endearing children to their parents and vice versa. A mother's love can make her trek through the snow for miles to find a means of feeding her baby. I'm convinced that my love for my daughter is the only thing making me keep calm when she rests on my sciatic nerve at night, causing pain in my back, hips and legs.

I both dread and anticipate my reactions when I see my daughter find her way in a tough world. I can't say just yet how I'll feel, but I can tell you this: If anyone messes with her, I'll resemble a mother grizzly bear a lot more than a penguin.