You know when you’re watching TV and a commercial comes on for a local burger joint, and they keep flashing close ups of that big, juicy burger? The one that’s all loaded up with your favorite condiments and even though it’s close to midnight and you already had dinner all you can think is, “Man, I have GOT to have a hamburger!”? But it’s too late and so you just go to bed…but you wake up craving that burger and it’s all you can think about until you finally give in and treat yourself to a juicy, quarter pound hamburger for lunch?
The same thing happens to me. Only with pregnant women. And I don’t want to eat them.
Walking across the parking lot after Sassy’s 6th grade graduation, I passed a woman with a very round pregnant belly. And I swear my biological clock started to hyperventilate. It didn’t just start to tick, it started
ferociously beating out a rhythm that put the Riverdance cloggers to shame and could be heard for 17 square miles. I might have gone a little weak kneed for a moment, but I managed to get myself to my car before I chased her down for an unwelcome belly rub. I did not want to explain to MC why a random stranger had to bring a restraining order against me.
Yes, I have 3 beautiful little minions who make me happy, but the problem is that I have 3 beautiful minions who make me happy. They make me want to have more beautiful little minions. When MC and I got married, we wanted 5 or 6 kids. I grew up with 3, he grew up with 5–we agreed on a houseful. But after Bubba’s diagnosis of Autism and everything we’d already been dealing with in that regard, we made the heartbreaking decision that 2 was probably going to be our limit. Sassy was a surprise. To be honest, the thought of another one to take care of at that time was not a happy prospect.
But life got better and easier to handle. Enough so that we revisited our earlier decision to limit our number to 3. While we had shut down MC’s baby making factory, opening it back up was still a possibility. It took a lot of research, discussion, and prayer for us to decide NOT to go there. It was the high probability of having another Autistic child (one who may not be as high functioning as Bubba) that tipped the scales.
So we looked into adoption.
We began the process while we were living in WA and had already attended our first class when we made the decision to move to TX. Unfortunately, it took a lot longer to get settled here than we anticipated. And when it came time to look into starting the process here, we once again included the kids in our discussion of adding to the family. Only the boys were now much less enthusiastic–Howdy especially. While we both really wanted to bring more children into our family and give them a forever home, we had to consider the needs of our Autistic and our sensory challenged boys. Their well-being had to be the number one priority. So, for now, adoption is out. We remain a 5 person family.
While I’ve made peace with that, I still get that crazy baby fever. I loved being pregnant and sometimes get a little sad that I won’t experience it again. Usually all it takes to get over it is to remind myself of having to birth that baby, middle of the night feedings, explosive diapers, and the way my fingers cramp when holding those teeny, tiny baby spoons. Also, I have to admit that it’s really nice to be able to walk through a store and have my kids follow me independently, to not have to stop everything and figure out how to maneuver 3 kids and a grocery cart into the restroom. It’s nice to have kids who are old to enough to share books, music, and movies with. And I’m loving that my son is old enough now to get his license and share in the carpooling duties.
But that doesn’t mean I’m immune to sweet chubby cheeks and corn niblet toes. The smell of a baby is better than Obsession, and nothing feels better than a little one sleeping on my shoulder. And while I can control myself fairly well around strangers who are pregnant, I’m not above accosting someone I know just so I can feel her prego belly.
So I’m asking my pregnant friends for forgiveness in advance. And to please reconsider that restraining order.