I have a confession. I have baby fever. Badly.
I have had this condition since the moment my J was born. Perhaps it was that I didn't expect her to be here for at least 3 more weeks, perhaps it was her impatience and insistence on being born in the fashion she was. But man, I want another baby.
My children fulfill me in ways that are indescribable. Everything has the potential to be fun, exciting, terrifying, and a new life experience for us all. A trip to the grocery store, a day at the mall, breastfeeding my little baby as I browse electronics. Our secret, sweet, intimate moments on full display (because that is how I get down) and yet when I catch her shimmering, happy little eyes in mine, everything else fails to exist for that moment. I get to relive my favorite childhood moments through them, and its even better this time, because now I know how precious and amazing and temporary those moments are. And I do my best to lock at least part of it away in my brain so it may someday be a flash, just an instant in time, where I can see their faces frozen in time until the end of mine. All I want is to collect these internal photographs, as many as I can. And for what I can not store in my head, I take thousands of pictures. That is not at all an exaggeration, either. I take, and develop, thousands. They are amazing. I cant imagine loving anyone else as much as I love them, and yet, I know I would if I had another baby.
My relationship with my girls is unique and special to each of them. But, it is a very different entity than my relationship to them while they grew inside me. It feels different, it was a different life, a different being. After they were born they were different people to me than the ones who first fluttered and turned, then eventually evenly violently kicking and jerking. Those sweet hiccups, rhythmically soothing my nerves. The luxurious rolling as they learn to twist and stretch tiny limbs in their dark warmth. All of these moments, memories. Before they ever saw me, and I them. Heart aching moments that are gone forever, and as much as I love these amazing beings that fill my days and nights with laughter and happiness, I still do mourn the memory of our most intimate growth together. I long for that again. I want it back so badly, even though I know how fleeting that time truly is.
I thought she died. So many times. 6 weeks. 8 weeks. 10 weeks. 12 weeks....and more. I thought I lost here every time. I look at her today, and think, how could this amazing little person, who laughs, and sings and counts and loves animals, how could I ever live if I had lost her? Because I knew I lost her, so many times. Seeing all the blood, feeling the pain, knowing she was gone, would never be born, be here, sing a song and dance around the room. She died so many times to me. But she never left me. I know I never could have enjoyed much of my pregnancy with her, but I still regret that I did not let myself love her more as she slowly took over my body. She deserved so much more than I could give then, and she gives me so much more now. I am so sorry, baby. I am sorry I ever doubted your strength, sorry I couldn't love you enough to believe you would stay, sorry I didn't just enjoy you more when I could have. It's nothing you will ever remember, but I always will.
My two girls. My dream come true, not just once but every day I spend with you. Every word you say, and every laugh that escapes your perfect little pink mouths makes me soar. I can't even start to take credit for you, for you are far too special to ever have been created in my mind. You couldn't have ever been imagined before you existed, because I had no idea what was possible.
And now I want more. Selfish, perhaps. I have the two most beautiful, amazing, happy, wonderful children. I am so happy, I am fulfilled completely. Except.
I want more. You give me so much love and happiness, its addicting. I want that feeling again. I know I can't hold it forever, but I can't remember it now. I want to be reminded of it. Maybe if I feel it just once more I will be able to hold in that feeling, lock it away and access it whenever I want to feel that connection. It's like trying to remember the exact feeling of a hug, not the face of the hugger, not their smell, but the actual hug. I can't do it. I don't know if anyone can. I know they were in me, I know I grew them, I know I felt them, all the time. I have the photos, I have video...but I am missing the feeling.
It isn't my time. Someday I will have my light, but not now. Probably not even soon. But I will have that feeling again, I will enjoy it, hold it, capture it, and then, eventually...
set it free.
