Oops I ovulated again

Hi, this is Jennifer from Playgroups are no place for children. I am notorious for writer's block when guest posting. Or it's possible that I'm the queen of the cop-out. Either way, I'm republishing an oldie but a goodie for Christine while she's busy, that I wrote back in April on my blog.

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I had made up my mind that we were finished having babies, while driving and enjoying the sweet, sweet deliciousness known as being ALONE. Something about the first warm day of the spring, an open sunroof, and thumping music made me certain that we were out of the business of making babies. Of course, twenty minutes prior, I had been trying on baby girl names for possible future daughters like Avery, or Leah, and Emeline, remembering only the good parts of pregnancy, childbirth, and life with a newborn...ahhh, the joys of selective memory.

But anyway, right at this moment, I was sure. No more kids. I felt the freedom that only comes as your children are old enough to be left for more than 2 hour segments.

"I'm almost free," I thought to myself. "In just a few short months, I'll have my body back all to myself! I'll finally get to throw those nursing bras away! I won't have to carry the enormous diaper bag, I'll actually be able to carry a purse!" The decision, for the time being, was made.

I got to my destination, Tar-zhay, and began my much anticipated solo quest for nothing. I was simply going to wander around the store, with no need to worry about the possibility of having to change a diaper or rushing to get home to save the precious nap. Not two minutes into my aimless stroll, I saw the first baby, a newborn baby, being held by her very exhausted looking mother. This baby had to be fresh out of the womb, she was impossibly tiny, with wrinkled feet and ankles.

"Look away. Just look away," I told myself. "We're DONE, remember??? Done!"

A good three minutes passed before I saw the next one. Another newborn baby, that also looked to have come straight to Target from it's birth at the hospital. The parents were fussing over the baby, who was so tiny and completely enveloped by it's carseat. The baby had that unfixed stare and googly eyes that only newborns have and appeared to be drifting off to sleep.

I realized I had been staring with my head cocked to the side and my mouth slightly open in the shape of "aaah." But I couldn't help myself. I closed my eyes and shook my head, getting the image of that darling baby out of my head. "Keep walking. You've seen plenty of newborn babies, including TWO of your own. Now skedaddle," I silently thought to myself.

Luckily I got a good twenty minutes of browsing in before I spotted the last newborn. During those glorious twenty minutes, I had purposely browsed in the lingerie section at pretty, non-nursing bras and dreamed of that day when I could where them again.

"Yes, I'm certain. No more children." I smiled contently as I left the lingerie section.

Of course, though, as I left the lingerie section, I saw the baby. Her daddy was cradling her in his arms as she slept. He gazed upon her face and appeared to study her every feature. His free hand gently touched his daughter's wee fingers as he bent over to kiss her tiny face. After the kiss, he paused and sniffed her wee newborn smell.

Right then and there, I ovulated. I simply cannot resist a daddy sniffing his baby.

As I finished my shopping trip, I imagined a future baby boy and tried on a few names for him...Keegan? Chase? Sean? Ryan?

Then I arrived home to my daughter's beautiful face. Ella, my eleven month old daughter, who charms me with nothing more than her soft cheeks and her gummy, slobbery grin.

It's no wonder I can't help but fantasize about all of my unborn children.

Originally published April 9, 2007 at Playgroups are no place for children.