I am possessed. I have gone to the hot crazy place. I have baby fever.
For the record I have never had baby fever before. I have never wanted a baby like I want one now. I haz the baby rabies.
There is something so final, and sad, about being finished making and nursing babies- which I have done non-stop for the last 6 years. My identity is so deeply tied to this stage of my life. College lasted only 4 years, grad school 2, I only worked for 2.5 after that. The ONLY thing I have been a part of longer is my marriage (love you, babe).
Who will I be if not an incubator? I’m not deeply in love with pregnancy, not am I thrilled to nurse my babies for 12 months. I’m not even that worried about my ever-evolving identity….
But that thing brand new babies do when you pick them up? That thing where they arch their back and stick out their tiny little butts? Love it!
When they sleep on your chest, which they do all the time, and they feel so warm, and you feel warm. And it doesn’t matter that dishes are dirty and the laundry isn’t folded because you could just look at that face for hours on end. That.
Sleeping babies make these noises. Little sleep apnea squeaks and stretches and groans. And while they are sleeping on you, lean down and take a whiff of that new baby smell? Delicious.
I realize I still have a baby. But honestly she seems more like a little person, filled with her own hilarious personality.
Truth? Three is the perfect number for me. But I need to hold a newborn, so if you have one, invite me over!! Stat!! I would bring along an amazing veggie lasagna 🙂