It’s not that babies come this far down my list of Joy’s but more that I’ve been struggling to word this in a way that doesn’t sound creepy and/or vaguely paedophillic. Hopefully I’ve succeeded. If not, thanks for reading! Come back tomorrow.
I’ve been hopelessly broody since I was about sixteen years old. I was never really surrounded by young children growing up so it didn’t come from that, but I did love dolls. The more realistic the better as far as I was concerned. I was always after the newest model of crying, peeing, belching baby on the market. I had the toy crib, the pushchair, the highchair, the summer and winder wardrobes hung on miniature clothes hangers. Loved it all. I’m pretty sure that I’ve just been biding my time since then until I can do it for real. Luckily I also have a reasonably sensible brain to go alongside the broodiness so I’ve also managed to avoid simply going out on the town and impregnating myself with the first sperm I happen to come across.
This was all fine and dandy until most of my extremely selfish friends decided to get pregnant, seemingly all at once. Now there are beautiful babies everywhere. EVERYWHERE. There is no escape. It’s wonderful and torturous in equal measure. Being broody is a bit like when you buy a new car. Suddenly you start seeing the same make, model and colour of car everywhere you go, having never noticed it before. When you’re trying to avoid thinking about having kids you’ll find that you start seeing pregnant women in every direction, people with pushchairs left and centre, cute, well-behaved toddlers the world over. Like an eclipse, you try desperately not to stare directly at them but the temptation is nearly impossible. I’m sure that eventually it’ll be my turn to be a mum. Until then, I get to be “cool Aunt Katy” to several pretty awesome little people.
Life doesn’t get much more magically than creating another human being with the person you love. It’s a privilege, a wonder, and most definitely a joy.