Something has happened to me recently. I am unable to walk through the streets of London without the uncontrollable urge to “ah cute” and “oh sweet”; and basically sound like a blabbering idiot every time I see a baby!
Does someone suddenly turn a switch on inside you that makes you desperately want to increase the world’s population? I am constantly turning to my husband saying, “Ah, I want one,” like we should simply go down to Tesco’s and pick one up in the baby isle.
When I meet new moms or pregnant ladies I sound like the Spanish Inquisition, drilling them with questions about morning sickness, birth choices and sleeping patterns. They must think I’m doing some kind of report on the subject. Luckily new moms are always delighted to talk about their offspring and are happy to tell me anything I want to know. Moms are very honest as well; they tell me all about the good and bad moments and I’m pleased to report that they all say it is very, very worth it in the end. In preparation I have even started taking calcium tablets because my mother said it was important during pregnancy. Apparently the little darling takes all of mine while it’s in there.
We aren’t quite ready yet to have a child (though I wonder if anyone is ever “ready”). We’re not totally settled in our new life here. So little baby Adams will just have to wait. If my biological clock ever needs temporary silencing I simply head down to the Gazebo in the common. It is the popular local haunt of young mothers. They meet with their prams, let the kids run riot in the open spaces and have a little lunch. I have gone inside the small yet thriving café to get an ice cream and have come out with a dull aching head; a result of the screaming, crying and generally noisy children, free from any feelings of broodiness I once had. Well at least for a short time anyway.
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