My biological clock ticks sometimes. I threw it out the window a few months ago when it started ticking, but it somehow made it back inside me. I think its because so many people I know are having baby girls.... and I want one. Jess is having a baby girl. She has two boys, 6 and 4ish, I think, and now she is prego with a little bambina. Briana is popping (I wrote pooping the first time... and it made me laugh) a baby girl out this July, and Julie in Germany doesn't have confirmation but she "feels" like its a girl. Even Kat, a fellow blogger, is Queen of Boyland, but she's having a pink hatted little one soon. I kinda want one now, too. Her name is Olivia Eleanor, I think, and she would be very cute and well behaved, I'm sure. Doncha wanna meet her?
I want to be pregnant again, too. I do. I am not sure its for the right reasons though. I want to wear huge flowy frocks and have a good excuse to muumuu out. I want to eat ice cream and gain weight and have a plausible reason why. I kinda want it for the right reasons, too. I never felt Will when I was pregnant with him. Never. There was no "oh honey... he's kicking" moments in my baby growth chamber. The nurse said I was "insensitive." My response was... duh. When I was pregnant with Jack I tore my round ligament and he blinked and I felt it. There was no "awww... he moved." It was "AAAAAHHHHHHH, SIT STILL YOU LITTLE DEMON!!!!!" But, I want that. I want to sit here and feel the baby shift and lovingly stroke my belly like they do on TV. Surely that is how it is supposed to be, right? And, with Jack there were so many complications. I never sat back and relished in my baby-building amazingness. Instead, I BEGGED for it to be over. I counted the seconds until that 500 pound (ok, he was 8 pounds 10 ounces) lead weight was taken out. I want the glowy, showy happy pregnancy that Motherhood Maternity's catalogue shows. I bet they're just wearing fake bellies, huh?
But, as I have mentioned in a previous blog... I don't want to raise my baby girl. I don't really want the whole c-section thing to get it out, and God knows no one is coming out the other way! I saw that video in birthing class and that stuff just ain't right. And, I don't want it to cry. I don't want middle of the night feedings and I don't want to have a baby. I want my life back. I want sleep uninterrupted and tv watching of something other than Noggin. And books. With WORDS and not PICTURES. I want a baby girl, but not an actual living, breathing baby. I want a little Olivia (Liv) to dress in cute clothes and cuddle, but only on my terms. Not when she's hungry at 2:00a and not because she just erped up 15 tons of curdles white nasty on the ruffles. And, don't get me started on going through 9 months of pregnancy hell (oops, I mean bliss) and have that kid come with another outie and not the innie that I want!!!
So, basically my uterus longs for another trip down Procreation Lane... and my brain has pulled over onto the shoulder in protest. Part of me thinks that we should just have Mark neutered because I am probably better off sticking to the two and a half kids I've got. But, if we did, I think I would regret it. Does that mean I could have a quickie with George Clooney??? Hmm..... that plan may not be so bad.