So here’s the deal. I’ve gotten flush a few times with baby fever, and I don’t know what to do with all this energy.
Which is a real problem because my husband got the Big V a year ago (you can read the post here – he didn’t take it well).
I was sure I was done. I’m 38 and still properly within childbearing years, but I’m on the “elderly spectrum” where medical staff treat you like a delicate, decrepit flower, with granny embryos that could possibly poof into dust at any moment unless I’m closely monitored.
But Christmas did something to me, man. Whenever I was out shopping, and I don’t know if it was like when you’re thinking about buying a silver Honda Accord so all you see are silver Honda Accords, but the moms with fresh babies were everywhere I turned!
Her teensy little baby, wrapped close around her. This fragile little angel’s head wearing a handsome newsboy cap or pretty little bow. It just revved up all my engines! I want one! I miss one! I NEED ONE, and quite frankly I really could have used one Christmas morning to go with my coffee.
Poppy is 3, and I feel like time is water running through my fingers. I rock her to sleep and stroke her red hair, I whisper to her and kiss her. She will REALLY hate that when she’s 16.
How much longer will I get that tiny little voice? Her tiny little body bouncing across the room? I could go without the tantrums because she can’t eat the entire bottle of elderberry gummies, but otherwise I need time to chill.
So I told my husband while he was watching football. He was terrified.
“How, what … I mean, have you forgotten?” he asked, voice trembling.
It was obvious. I had filtered all the good and completely disregarded “the tough, sleepless, zombie” parts where we bickered all the time and ate frozen pizzas. Having a newborn when you’ve already decided your family is complete is a little bit like playing a game of Chutes and Ladders and landing on the the one chute that takes you to the very beginning of the game.
Did I really want to experience another difficult pregnancy? (I get countless migraines that last for days.)
Did I want to stop sleeping? Stop socializing? I’ve just found so many new freedoms – I’m in a book club now! Do I really want another baby?
Or do I just want baby ambiance?
And that’s when I realized.
I just want baby ambiance. I want to rock them at night while I binge The Great British Bakeoff or while I read a good book. I want to walk around farmers markets with a Moby wrap, giving them eskimo kisses periodically while I buy local honey.
But, the truth is, I don’t want to start over. I’m starting to actually come alive again as the responsibilities of small babies evolves into it’s new season. Give me the ambiance, but then swing on back to get ’em in an hour, k? Which is what I think grandmothers say. So I think in a way, I’m already a grandma mentally and probably physically.
My point is, can I borrow someone’s baby? I promise I’ll give them back – let’s be real – probably after their nap. At least long enough for you to squeeze in one long bath or Target run?
Let me know.