I want babies.
I am 21 years old.
My boyfriend and I have been living together since two days before we started dating, since April 5, 2008. That was my twentieth birthday, by the way, and he was the best present I could have gotten.
Except, maybe, babies.
And now that we've gotten to the point where it's not if we'll get married, but when, this irresistible urge that has been building in me since I was eleven years old is really presenting itself.
I see him play with his five-year-old sister and I see what a great dad he'll be. I see a woman with a baby in a grocery store and I feel a pang of longing. I see a pregnant woman come into my workplace and I'm jealous. I stop in the middle of fantastic sex and think... we could make a baby, right now.
I'm a ball of hormones that birth control pills will, hopefully, contain and control. But until all my crazy urges are in check, I'm crying when I read mommyblogs, not because they are sad, but because I want that experience too. I'm sobbing over my kitten, because he's not quite what I want. I wailing over nothing at all, set off by the sound of a child's laughter on television. And so I join the ranks, blogging, not about my own children yet, but about what I see, what I think, what I anticipate.
It might be a few years before I finally get my babies, but until then, I'm here. I'm writing, getting out all of this emotion, all this irrationality. And if things go according to plan (as they never do) I will graduate with my B.A. in December, have an engagement ring soon after, be married by August 2010, and have that baby-- that beautiful, long-for baby-- by mid 2011. We'll see. For now, I'll post about my silly crying fits, my moments of overwhelming joy, my explosions of anger and frustration. And maybe, just maybe, someone will even read it.