Being Born

It was recently brought to my attention that I have been talking about babies and motherhood a lot on the blog these days. And speculation was raised as to whether or not I am simply reluctant to go ahead and state, on record, that I really want to have a baby. Valid questions. I consider myself fairly honest, but the record clearly shows that I'm awesome at hedging when it comes to sticky topics and changes of mind.

And honestly, I have been thinking about motherhood a ton more than I ever have. But I'm not at the "I really want a baby" place yet. I'm angsty over the realization that this is the first time in my life that that has ever been even remotely appealing to me, and I want a good looooong time for Hubs and I to make up our minds about it. I feel like the months and years are zooming past me. I guess, if I had to go on record with a statement it would be this (And believe me, I am loathe to admit it): I hear a clock. And it is ticking.

You know how in action movies the hero always ends up having to dive head first under some giant stone/metal/spike-bottomed door that's grinding towards the ground, just narrowly escaping certain death? Maybe Indy even frantically grabs back under the last 6 inches to snatch his hat. Whew! He just made it! I thought for sure he was a goner.

I feel like if I hang out too long on the baby fence, I will have to make one of those frantic head first dives under the door. The stone slab has started sliding, and it will eventually slam shut. Maybe while I'm still rummaging around, trying to figure out what to do.

And that scares me.

So, I don't have a lot more to say about it other than I wish we had more time to sit comfortably with the question and roll around with the idea of kids for a while.

Ambivalent: uncertainty or fluctuation, especially when caused by inability to make a choice or by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things.

Every time I have a "painful back" day, or a look at my buttsag in the mirror or see a svelte young momma mooning over her gurgly bald munchkin, the surge of freakout and reality start to duke it out. As hubs' mom reminded us recently while discussing our various strange physical ailments; "Well, you are not exactly spring chickens any more". Nope. We sure are not.

Anyway, that's the scoop. Ambivalent is my middle name. And that is working out OK for us so far.