I have a problem. I am perpetually obsessed with the desire to give life to my unborn children.
Yes, my maternal clock is tick-tock-ticking. Every baby I pass, I eye jealously. Why does she get a child? She’s as young as I, probably about as stable, and certainly less mature.
It’s not that I want to steal other people’s babies. I only want my own. Complete with little curling fingers, giggles, and drool. I daydream about the pains of child birth, fantasize about being kept up all night by a beloved screaming newborn. I consider various private schools with a terrifying science. In the supermarket I evaluate which fruit and veggie combinations will be the best for my homemade organic baby food. I fall asleep wondering how much money I seriously need to be putting away for the inevitable orthodontic work.
I’m terrifying my friends, and certainly my lover. Frankly, I’m even a little concerned. My lease doesn’t allow pets, let alone babies.