Z is tired, but still blogging.

Doesn’t miss a day? Always in the mood? If not in the mood, gets in the mood, by doing it and, ooh, that’s rather good, isn’t it?

It’s working already.

“HEYYO” shouted Squiffany, running towards me and planting several air kisses “MWAH, MWAH, MWAH!” “We’re going down to the playground,” said her mother. “Exercise might have some effect.”

The baby was due today. He will be late. Dilly feels that she has already waited quite long enough.

I am glad, in almost all ways, that I will never be pregnant again, that I will never go through the waiting, the childbirth, the exhaustion and the sleepless nights. But even as I write that, I find that it’s not true. We decided, when Ro was a month old, that he would be our last child (it sounds really insulting to him to say that, until he was born, we had meant to have a fourth, but he wasn’t an easy baby and we were not so young then as when the first two were born) and we never changed our minds, but a bit of me has wanted another baby for the last 30 years (and had my wish once, 22 years ago). If you are a man or haven’t borne a child, I’m sorry, and if you don’t intend to be a parent, this is not aimed at you, it is simply personal and probably brought on by sheer emotion, at the imminent prospect of the birth of my second grandchild.

There is nothing like feeling your baby kick inside you. Or the first contractions, or the later ones, unwelcome as they are – “Oh bugger, this is the time I wish I’d just said ‘no’.” Or that slithery feeling as all your baby is born, followed by that first cry, that primitive instinct to sniff, when what you smell is yourself, the essence of yourself. And breastfeeding (especially at first, when you feel your womb contract and think, satisfyingly, that your stomach is going down every time the baby sucks), the knowledge that this infant is totally yours and that although you are separate, you are still entirely one.

Yup. I miss it. I didn’t regret the decision not to have a fourth baby, but there is some little bit of me that will be, forever, broody.

And I had no idea that I was going to write that. If you read it, I even posted it. Well, well.

Oh, and having a baby and feeding it yourself is the best diet in the world. You can eat forever and lose weight. It is impossible to keep it. You can stuff chocolate cake and be a size 8, with a natural D cup*.

Yay. Lucky Dilly. Despite labour and the sleepless nights, I envy her.

*Still got the D cup. But not the size 8.

9 comments on “Z is tired, but still blogging.

  1. mhari

    I’m so glad it’s not just me. I have one boy, nearly 13, just gone up to High School.

    The Sensible Me knows more children are not an option, no marriage (sorry, unfashionable, but I like formal committment), no income (I’m a mature student) and fast approaching 40.

    The Broody Me goes dewy eyed at sleeping babies, bare baby feet and remembering the absolute joy of pregnancy.

    Thanks. Your post helped. I hope your grandson doesn’t hang about too long. Best of luck.

  2. Z

    Hello, Mhari, welcome, and thank you very much. I was a little outspoken there and maybe, I wondered, too much so. I’m very glad that there’s another Sensible/Broody woman with the same feelings.

  3. Geena

    No you didn’t say too much – I think most women can indentify with that.

    I also get terribly broody when I think about my pregnancies – they were so good and healthy – and when I see babies I get all mushy and long to cuddle them. But the truth is I would go mad if I really had another baby.

    I actually hope I can convince my gynae I need a hysterectomy (I do) and that will be the end of it. I live in fear of an unwanted pregnancy these days.

  4. Z

    Geena, thank you too – I guess there are a lot of us about, and it’s just one of those unspoken mother things.

    I know, 40ish is the time when you get a bit paranoid about unexpected pregnancy. But at least nowadays, not being married is no longer a reason to give up sex.


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