Babies everywhere. Is it because everyone around you is having babies that you want a baby? Or is it that you want a baby because your baby seems to be growing up too fast? Or is it just a matter of some sort of chemical reaction? I want a baby. And I don't want a baby. I love babies. Babies everywhere. And I know pregnant me would kick my ass but I miss being pregnant.
See, here's the thing about that. When I found out I was pregnant with M, J & I had been dating 8 months. We were planning on taking our relationship to the next level but we had getting engaged in mind NOT having a baby. I was living at home with my uber Catholic folks. I had just registered for my first full time semester in school in about a year and a half. It was the surprise of all surprises. And truth be told, my parents were not at all excited or happy about the prospect. I was in shock. Numb cold shock. Now, J and I didn't move in together until the end of May beginning of June of 2003- just 2.5 months before my due date. So for 6.5 months of my pregnancy I had to go through it at home. Which meant alone. And it's not like my mom thought me pregnant was a beautiful thing. I don't have many pregnancy photos. I don't have any at all from the early stages. My mom was always after me to cover up and in a way it sunk in and I hated my pregnant body which was so hypocritical of me because I always felt pregnant women were so beautiful. There was more than one occassion where my appearance was called into question and I broke down in tears. Or times when nothing fit and I felt ugly and no one was there to tell me I was pregnantly beautiful. So, you see, I want a do over.
On the other hand, I am so in love with M. I want to savor every nanosecond. And those nanoseconds just seem to rush out from between my fingers. Let me tell you, holding on to your baby's babyness is as useless as trying to carry water in your hands. You might get a little bit for a moment, but that's all. The big chunks of it just fall through so fast. He doesn't walk, and most times (when I'm not in pain from carrying him or panting up the stairs) I'm grateful because it's his last shred of real babyness. He talks so much (he mimics everything). He eats real food. He KNOWS so much. So the fact that he just won't let go of that last finger and take off on his own? I cherish that like you wouldn't believe.