When will I stop getting broody?
Posted Tuesday 19th November 2013 By Ericka Waller
So all my friends are pregnant, and I am not. One of them just gave birth and I am algae-green with envy. I know right? I’ve done it three times and it bloody hurts and makes a mess and you can’t sit down for weeks afterwards and you look like a zombie and have no idea what you are doing and you put the remote control in the fridge and take the butter to bed… but don’t newborn heads smell lovely?
The husband is all “You are insane.” At least I think he said that. I could hardly hear over the dog howling because Thing-three was trying to ride on his back, Thing-two running round the kitchen shrieking “When Santa got stuck up the Chimmney!” and Thing-One bossing all her stuffed toys about.
Maybe I don’t want a new baby, I just want my old babies back. I want to rewind Thing-three and press play at the second I first saw her. I want Thing-One to be eight-weeks old again, asleep and milky on my chest. I want Thing-two strapped in her baby carrier, peering up at me from her sun hat.
I want a three month scan, to see my baby on screen for the first time. I want to wonder what I’ll have (girls). I want to think of names (which the husband will veto). I want to breastfeed in bed. I want to fall in love again.
Does everyone go through this mourning period? Thing-three is out of nappies (she uses the floor instead). I should be triumphant. Instead I miss deeply inhaling her bottom every hour or so (even though I can normally tell whether she has poo’d or not from the other side of the room).
Is this motherhood? Constantly looking back over your shoulder with the sense that you have not taken it all in? My children have become strangers to me. Songs I did not teach them, words I do not use. Capabilities they did not have the day before crop up like garden weeds. I want to cut them down.
I want to wrap them up and put them in the garage over the winter, like little tortoises. While they sleep I may be able to catch up on their childhood.