It's been months. I have staved off my yearning with everything - food, diet, a kitten ( a lovely adorable tiny ball of a kitten who likes to pounce on my feet, and my head, and even wake me up at 4 am for food!), cleaning, cooking, any thing I can manage. It's not working. I want a baby more than ever.
If one more person says, "if you wait til the moment is right to have a baby, you never will" I swear, you're going to be smacked. In the head. By my tiny hands, which will hurt if I have to put a giant rhinestone ring on. I swear it!
We have to wait. We are worried about our mortgage, we are worried about my lack of job. I'm worried about being one of those people dragging their kid through the unemployment line while he/she screams bloody murder, and probably does manage to kill a few old men waiting in line for four hours, by blowing up heads or coronaries, take your pick.
I dreamed last night that I was seven months pregnant. I almost cried when I woke up to find it wasn't real.
To add insult to serious injury, everyone around me is having babies. My favorite blogger ever, Heather Armstrong (dooce.com) just had her second baby. I'm delighted for her, but I'm sad.
Three of my closest work (former work) friends just had babies. They're adorable! I hate them. I love them. I want to STEAL them.
One of my best online friends is in labor as I type. With her second. I remember commiserating with her when her husband did not want kids, years ago. We were both in the same boat, but now I'm alone. It's a lonely little boat.