I never thought I’d say this, but it’s happened.
I’ve got baby fever.
(Seriously. Click on the link. You’ll see how unlikely I thought this was).
I think I know where it’s coming from. One of my best friends had a baby last summer; the first of my friends to start popping out these little bundles of joy. And then this week, a friend of DD’s — who I’ve also grown close to — had a lovely little one.
I’ve watched his friend throughout her entire pregnancy and as her belly grew, so did my envy. It wasn’t envy in a green-eyed or malicious way, but rather, a realization that it was something I wanted too. For the past few years, I’ve been proud to say that my biological clock isn’t even turned on, so it’s a realization that’s coming as a bit of a surprise.
I think the envy is also coming from a realization that I’m nowhere near the point of having one. While friends are truly settling down by procreating, DD and I are barely on the subject of marriage. It’s there, but it has to be handled with care. So the subject of my own procreation some day is an even more distant thought.
I know I have many good childbirth years ahead of me, so there’s no need to go all biological clock crazy on him. I also know that right now this is more of a baby fever, not a full-blown child fever. One evening with his nephews, ages 7 and 9, makes me want to run screaming for my birth control.
But rocking a fussy baby to sleep using my inherent momma sway does make me think that maybe, just maybe, I can do it one day.