I know holding a baby and not bursting into tears is a pretty normal occurrence. For most people.
But as it turns out, I’m not most people. If that’s not already glaringly obvious by my inability to listen to R Kelly or the fact that I just ate sushi for the first time in my life a couple of weeks ago.
For the last couple of months it’s been baby boom season for all of our family, friends and friends of friends. So inevitably, if I’m not surrounded by beautiful glowing women with swollen bellies, I’m surrounded by tiny little fingers and the sweet, sweet smell of tiny baby-ness.
For a moment I’m caught up in this question of what if? What if we have another baby? What if it isn’t as bad as I think it’s going to be?
I stare down into that little babies eyes (and probably freak them the hell out) as my what ifs turn to tears running down my face. A rush of emotion hits me with those what ifs. Besides the absolute joy that I get from a person becoming a parent, the euphoria that only a baby smell can produce and snuggling a little body that can’t run away from me, it hits me hard in the chest that this will never be us again.
A couple of days ago I held my 3 week old nephew and instead of the usual gush of tears, I managed to keep it together. That means I’m over it right? I conquered the broody. I won!
But what if?
Let’s discount the complaints that come from the mouths of the bodies with the swollen bellies or the talk of no sleep and cracked nipples on the new born front. No. We won’t stop there.
We’ll stop in the delusional World I seem to live in. The one where I actually have another baby.
This delusional World is pretty fantastic. In this place, I get to have another baby but instead of getting morning sick for the full 9 months and hating almost every second of it – I don’t get fat, stretch marks actually disappear (instead of growing bigger) and I glow – but not because of my disgusting acne.
In this World we also have money growing on trees so we can happily buy all the things that I have already given away (because last I checked we were NOT having any more babies). We would naturally also have a big enough car (that was built with autopark so that I don’t have to claim every day) and we’d be able to send all four kids to school AND pay the school fees without the current urge to rip my uterus out through my mouth.
We’d cuddle and I’d be able to nurse this baby boy as long as he needs to and it wouldn’t be painful or awkward or tiring or stress me the hell out. The older kids would play nicely and help me with taking care of the new baby. We’d all sleep really well, eat like a caveman (i.e. very healthily and it would also just magically appear – I wouldn’t need to make it) and just be so hashtag blessed.
Oh yes it’s a boy – of course – a double pigeon pair please and thank you.
But my friends, as you know, this place does not exist. So. That’s the end of that.