When will it be me?

So, those out there who have children, before you had children, did you have one of these moments?  I’m cruising through the “Tag Surfer” on my WordPress dashboard, and I see a picture that’s obviously a woman with a child in her lap, and she’s smiling.  And I nearly started crying.  I’m ready for that to be me. I’ve been ready to have kids since the first time I realized that I was in love with my husband.  Especially since the first time he told me that he loved me.  Growing up, I never thought I’d have kids, never dreamed about the babies I’d have.  I didn’t believe in love – or at least love for everyone, and thought that I was in the category of “unlovable” – and thus didn’t believe that I’d ever have children.  Nieces and nephews for sure, I always dreamed about what it would be like to be an aunt and then to be the crazy aunt living alone with her animals and flowers in her small house in the woods.  That was what I saw my future as.  And then there was my Joshua.  He changed everything when he made me fall in love with him.  Including how I thought about my own children.  I want children.  And I’ve been waiting now for nearly four years to have children.  It wasn’t so bad before we got married, because we weren’t married yet and it mattered to me that our children be born in wedlock, since we did love one another and were getting married.  We used condoms religiously, even though I’m on the pill, up to the night before the night before our wedding (because, due to family tradition being so strong, we did not stay together the night before our wedding, even though we’d been living together since before we got together).

Then, after our wedding, we were moving to Chicago, going to the big city for a girl who had always lived in the same zip code, let alone the same town (Hattiesburg is big enough that it has two zip codes within the city limits).  We couldn’t have children in the city, though, because that’s just wrong – and if anything, I feel more strongly about this now than I did before! – and if we had kids this far away from my Momma, she’d kill me!  At least after the babies were born, she would.  Nothing to harm her grandbabies, of course. ^__^  So I’ve waited.  It wasn’t so bad when coming to Chicago and living in the big city was still exciting, was still an adventure.  Back when we were still happy here.  But the waiting has begun to wear on me.  It started even before we reached the point of being sick of living here, probably last spring.  It’s always worse in the spring – I think this is because I make a conscience effort to recognize the changing seasons and find a connection to it.  It’s too important to me, spiritually, to be connected to the earth and the changes in her for me not to feel connected to the changes of the season.  But the season of new life, the season of birth, seems to really be affecting me.  And since the hubby broke his arm before Christmas, we’ve both become disillusioned with this city and with the company he works for.  We’re both ready to get out of here, and that means that, once again, we’re waiting.  Forever waiting.  Well, I’m tired of waiting.  We’re leaving at the end of August – yes, I say that with confidence because I refuse to believe otherwise, I refuse to give power to the idea of us staying beyond the end of our lease in this awful apartment.  So we are leaving at the end of August and moving to the kind of area we both agree our children deserve, within an 8 hr drive of my Momma (and considering that she makes a 10-12 hr drive to see her sister pretty regularly, I have no qualms over 8 hrs!), so when my birth control runs out in 26 days, we’re gonna start trying to get pregnant.  I want to be pregnant.  I want to see the children that Josh and I will make together.  I want to hold them in my arms and give them all the love that they deserve.

*le sigh*  It’s been getting worse in waves.  Maybe it’s because my system knows what’s happening and is getting ready to go back to a regular cycle (I’ve been on Seasonique for the last five years, and two years before that on it’s lower dose cousin, Seasonale, which causes you to only have 4 periods a year – hence why I can’t just stop taking my pills).  That’s what I keep telling myself anyway, and not that I’m just having a crazy moment.  I do have those, but I haven’t been having them as bad lately and not at all since we quit smoking – surprising since I’ve had them pretty bad every other time we’ve tried to quit.  Okay, so I feel a little better.  Gonna go take a shower so the hubby can help me wash my hair.  See, I’m 6’1″ and my hair reaches just past my butt.  Meaning that my hair is about 3′, maybe 3’1″…not sure since I haven’t actually measured it.  But it’s so long that I can’t wash it by myself without it still having shampoo or conditioner (especially conditioner) in it when I get done.  I’ll have to get y’all some pictures. ^__^

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