I got to meet Jane this weekend!
Perfect and small and soft.
She snuggled right up and melted my heart.
She also seems to have turned up the volume on the ticking of my biological clock. I mean, it’s there, ticking away all the time, but now, it’s deafening. I suppose this is a given when one is 35 and (oh so) single. But damn!
Jane’s mom tells of how this is the hardest job she’s ever had. She talks of no sleep. She talks of absolute fear of this 9 lb person. But she does all this with a almost undetectable smile that makes me pretty sure it’s all worth it. I ask about nursing and labor pains and all that stuff, and no matter what she says, I think it sounds lovely.
My mind has been going through it’s contact list in hopes there is some sort of forgotten male who would be perfect to stop this clicking clock. All it finds is Mr. Complicated, Mr. Wrong, Mr. Bad Gene Pool, Mr. Gay. Mr. Ewwww and Mr. Not In A Million Years.
Then my mind takes me to the dark side. Do I want to have a baby so I don’t feel left out? Do I want to have a baby or do I want to have what I’d like to think comes with a baby, a husband (or husband type person) a cute little house with a backyard and silly disagreements about nothing? Do I want a baby just so I am not alone?
Currently all I am sure of is this; the time I spent this past weekend holding that precious little girl was the happiest time I’ve spent in a very long time.