Do you hear that?
That loud-as-all-get-out TICK TOCK TICK? The thundering echo of my biological clock that is reminding me that my eggs! They are shriveling! They will expire! I'm going to RUN OUT OF TIME!
OHMYGAH I'M THIRTY-SIX AND A HALF (ALMOST) AND OH YEAH I DIDN'T HAVE A BABY YET.
I sure as hell hear it. It's cranked up a time or two along the way the past thirty-six and a half (almost) years, but it's always faded away after a bit. But boy, is it SUPER LOUD right now.
I blame the baby shower I attended two Saturdays ago, and all the teeny teeny tiny little pink soft teeny tiny things I fondled. All the sweet little dresses and world's softest blankets and adorable teeny teeny tiny socks and such. And the ridiculously glowy, happy, non-complication having co-worker that flits around with her great boobs and basketball tummy (and I swear not an extra ounce anywhere else on her teeny tiny little body). She makes it look awfully easy and fun. And she's also incredibly unlike me in that she has kept all the un-lovely things about her current condition to herself. I've never heard her complain about nausea, or fatigue, or any of the really unpleasant things that most people avoid talking about at parties. And that doesn't help me. I want to hear about how she wanted to puke when she smells my lunch, or how she could barely keep her eyes open at her desk, or how she is now so tired of being pregnant she wants to reach in there and yank that baby right out.
I'm trying to avoid talking about this in real life because my fella and I are pretty newly coupled and talk of babies is as yet not really warranted, I'm thinking. Besides, by next week I'll probably be enjoying my late-sleeping, nap-taking, non-babysitter-needing, nachos-for-dinner lifestyle and forgotten all about it.
p.s. Oh yeah, there's a fella. ;)