First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage.
That’s why I was ready to have a baby right after I said I do.
My husband, on the other hand, was slightly baby-phobic, and it wasn’t just the messy diapers that scared him off.
Inspired by Melanie (Big Mama) and her book Sparkly Green Earrings, I decided to record my own journey to motherhood. This is Part two in the series, so if you would like to start at the beginning with me, please follow the link below.
Long ago, in the years of braces and 80’s helmet hair, I decided to have all my children before I was thirty years old. The actually number of offspring was negligible, but the thirty year cut-off age was inflexible.
I am not sure if I thought my womb would automatically put up a no-vacancy sign while I was blowing out the candles on my cake or if all my eggs would fry over-hard, but I knew if there were to be children, they must come early.
My biological clock wasn’t only ticking, but it was keeping time and an alarm would sound at the strike of midnight February 12, 2005.
It made sense to begin the enjoyable work of baby-making within our first year of marriage.
My better half was not convinced. In fact, he may have broke out in cold sweats at the thought of 3 A.M. feedings and minivans, but everywhere we went, children seemed to find us.
It was as if we lived in a world without birth control.
Every time we went out to dinner, it was family night, even long after the early-bird special was digested. Children even found us on school nights when they should have been tucked snugly into their crayon colored beds.
We worked in the church nursery…well, I worked in the nursery while my husband kept me company. We taught junior church and helped during vacation Bible school. Kids were everywhere and it didn’t look as though they were going to grow-up anytime soon.
I made googly eyes at babies and bonded with toddlers.
I thought, now is the time of fertilization.
My husband’s little fishes swam against the tide of my hormones. Babies were a subject best left for future discussion, so I stopped dreaming of pink and blue bibs. I had plenty of time until my clock chimed thirty.
With eight years to spare, my uterus could enjoy a bit of a holiday.
No babies. Not for a while.