There’s No Cure For Baby Fever, So Don’t Bother Trying
I’m thrilled to have twin boys, especially since it took a lot to bring them into this world. 99.9% of the time, I feel lucky that I was able to become a mother period, let alone a mom to two, and I don’t wish for another child because my heart aches for those who are still trying without success. But I have several friends that are currently pregnant, so even though I know it’s not medically possible, I’ve been struck with fever. The baby fever.
If you are experiencing symptoms of stopping at every display of onesies you see in a store, stalking your pregnant friends on Facebook for weekly updates and letting out an involuntary, “Aww,” every time you see a tiny human in a swaddling cloth, then you, too, have been infected. In an effort to end my suffering, I’ve tried several things to cure my desire for newborn and so far, nothing’s worked.
I visited a playground late morning, hoping that seeing babies who were overdue for their naps and having meltdowns would sour me on the idea of wanting my own teeny bundle o’ baby. But the spring breezes made any baby cries faint, and all I could think was how easy the mom with the Moby wrap made having an infant look. Now I not only wanted a baby, but I wanted to try baby wearing too.
I put on an immaculate white shirt to remind myself how nice it is to wear something that doesn’t have ivory spit up stains all over it. (I stuck to dark bottoms because my toddlers’ hands are perpetually sticky) But a lunch of pasta with sauce quickly reminded me why baby or not, my clumsy by nature self doesn’t wear white anyway. Also, seeing my reflection in a mirror only reminded me how great that same shirt would look if I were carrying a pair of milk jugs in my bra, scoring yet another point for Team Baby.
Instead of focusing on all the great things about babies, I figured it would be a good idea to remind myself of the things that are more difficult to do with an infant, so I went to a movie. Maybe if I had picked a horror flick I would have been perfectly happy to have an adult evening, but instead I saw Cinderella, and the mother/daughter scenes had me adding my own salt to the popcorn. Now I not only wanted another baby, I wanted a daughter.
Desperate to snap out of it, I volunteered to hold a friend’s wailing infant when Mom’s efforts to sooth her weren’t working. I didn’t love that familiar feeling of panic when a baby is screaming themselves red in the face and you don’t know how to make it stop, so I thought I had finally snapped myself out of the baby fantasy. Until the baby fell asleep on me. Those perfect little cheeks, that steady, solid warmth and the delicious smell of baby was like a kick to my defunct ovaries.
Perhaps there is no cure, maybe baby fever is like my eczema, once you have it, it never really goes away. And it that’s the case, I’m having one hell of a flare up.
(image: Catalin Petolea/shutterstock.com)
