Wednesday, January 16, 2008

"When are you having kids?"

This has to be the most commonly used phrase after wedding planning. It's also the most common thing to blog about after a wedding. I'm no different, except for one thing: I love when people ask. I am bursting to tell the people how we're waiting until late summer to start trying to conceive- sure, not even a year of marriage, but still... I want babies.

It was whilst reading up on wedding topics that I got bored. I don't care about favors and all that fancy junk. I looooved wedding planning, but we couldn't afford any of those things I coveted, so I just stopped looking. Instead, I turned to books about babies and pregnancy, all the while wistfully imagining the day when I can wear the cutest shirt ever (in case you can't see it, the bar code reads "Priceless"):

Now that we're done with that wedding crap, I can focus on the real reason I wanted to get married: to have kids. Okay, that's not the real reason, as I could have bred with Paul for a couple of years now, but because it's OKAY now. No matter what people would have said to our faces, had we had a child before marriage, they would have been mighty look down their nose-y at us. Now we can feel free to cavort nakedly with a purpose to this whole sex thing: to build one of them humans.

As I've been reading more and more, I get even more scared about miscarriages, and years of trying without result- both of which cause strife in a marriage, most likely. Are we willing to take that chance? To open up our hearts to possible pain? I think I am, I think Paul is. Are we prepared for any bad news that may come along? I honestly don't know. I do know that worrying about something like that can't possibly be good for the "good vibes" you hope to cushion your uterus with.

We currently live in a one bedroom apartment in southern California. We share it with a particularly hoggy dachshund who will always take the middle of the couch as his. I'd be lying if I wasn't terrified about the idea of impending parenthood- will we have enough room? Will Woofie try to eat it? What if we can't afford it?? Then there is the last niggling voice: what if we can't get pregnant? What will we do?

There are so many worries nowadays, all of which don't help to conceive a child. I make promises to God, to myself, to Paul... "If it works out for us, I promise to be a better person." or "I won't take anything for granted anymore". I know we haven't even started trying yet, but as a constant pessimist, I have to think of the half-empty scenario. It's a good thing I've married an optimist.

As I read the "Baby on the Brain" section at the Nest (and mock myself while doing it), I always think about how much I ache to have a baby. How we've had names picked out for years and years, and how badly I want to hand over the urine soaked test stick that has that tell-tale plus sign. I am actually looking forward to peeing on my hand accidentally, because I have no aiming skills.

of course, until August, I must take my minty-flavored baby repeller (birth control pill) every night, and just live vicariously through friends and family who are having babies (speaking of, my new niece should be arriving any day now!), and read up on how to avoid nipple chafe. This is what I have become.

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