Undeniable baby envy
“Unfuckingbelievable” is all I can think. Mixed emotions swirl about inside my inner Nutri-Blast forming a smoothie of “phew” and self-pity togther as if it were blueberries and kale. “Only me.”
ONLY Shannon would get her Aunt Flow seven minutes after finishing a column about not getting Aunt Flow. It was as if my mental pebbles directly hit the bedroom windows of the soundly sleeping Period Gods and startled them awake. Upon first thought, I felt relief. Then there’s always that fashionably late flip-flopping of sad, disappointed butterflies fluttering in my stomach, if only briefly, right after.
I could name a million reasons why having a baby would be a horrible idea right now. I just feel like I could have my shit a liiiiiiittle more together before I take on that adventure. In retrospect, you’re never REALLY ready. That doesn’t make me feel better at all, though. It just confirms that time’s-a-wastin. However, I could still think of a million reasons why the timing would have been perfect.
I shop for my goddaughter at Carter’s, and as I peruse through the tutu skirts and baby hoodies with bear ears, I can literally feel my uterus frown and sigh. Although, as I write this, I get to enjoy a fresh, cold Sam Adams Octoberfest, I’m just another menstrual cycle older, and my biological clock is suffering from a severe case of ADHD.
All I see these days on Facebook (besides Candy Crush requests) are baby pictures. Infants and toddlers and playdates, oh my! Some of my friends have three kids already! MY Facebook page is like “Oh Em Gee my cat did the cutest thing the other day…” Undeniably, I have Baby Envy. Even I couldn’t convince myself otherwise. My cousin said to me “I’m mad at you because you haven’t given my kids any cousins yet.” YEAH, OKAYYYYYYYY…
It’s impossible for me to sleep late anymore, because my sweet, precious stinkmouth fluffball of a feline demands attention and must play precisely between the hours of 4:46 and 6:01 a.m. every day. For two months now. Yup. I figure why not spend my early morning free time tending to a baby (or my fantasy boy and girl twins)? May as well show people how it should be done. There are far too many bratty assholes causing anarchy throughout the United States. Goddamn street youths … always stealing my bikes.
A plus side to me not being pregnant is that I can keep my job. Not that I’d be fired if I was carrying my dream twins, but I feel like it may be a little taboo working at a sex shop during my third trimester. Maybe? Possibly? Bueller? Who knows, maybe it would be a great, accidental marketing scheme. I imagine a customer coming in, holding something up and asking, “Does this work?” and I promptly point to my baby-making belly and reply, “Ya think, guy?”
I think back again to my nonexistent chicly designed gray nursery, completely put together through Pinterest ideas I stole from other creative people. Only my nursery is the best of all. In my daydream, I look into the cribs, and I see my boy and girl twins, but I see no faces. One day, I will get to look down and see the real beautiful face(s) of my child(ren) and it will be absolutely breathtaking to know it’s not just a fantasy.
A fire truck drives by my house and the sirens snap me back to real life again. (Siiiiiiiiiigggghhhhhh.) If I pay extra shipping, will the Stork come tomorrow?
Clearly, this wasn’t meant to be. This time. Still, that shit needs to pack its bags and its one way ticket, and hop on the train to my barren, lonely inside lady parts. I don’t want to become one of those Lifetime movie women who go nuts and sabotage a man just to fulfill some creepy obsession with being a mother. Except I wouldn’t murder the guy. I feel like you have to kill someone to have Lifetime make a made-for-TV movie about you. Unless, perhaps… I stole a baby? I’m almost positive that would qualify me. Anyone?