Baby fever.

I have got babies on the brain lately.
It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I love babies.  Unfortunately when you have your own babies you take for granted the baby-ness that is so awesome. And right now I have a lot of babies waiting to come into my life. Some are waiting to come home. Some are growing inside a belly. 

It makes a teeny tiny part of me wish I was expecting a baby. 

Don't you worry friends.  At this moment as I write this We. Are. Done.

I spent a lot of my vacation time this summer thinking, "this will only get easier". 

Am I right?  I know some things get harder, but vacation - that gets easier, RIGHT?!

(please say yes, please say yes)

I came across these pictures last night that I had forgotten I'd taken.  They took my breath away.

That was me.

Can you believe that the tiny people we love actually grew in someone's belly?  Sometimes even our own?

 

Before I ever got pregnant, I promised God that if I was granted this one request I would never ever EVER complain about ANYTHING it involved.  

I made it until week seven.  With both pregnancies.  For those of you that need help with math, that means I spent the next 33 weeks complaining about my feet, my back, my sleep patterns, my uterus feeling like it was going to fall out of me, etc. etc. etc.

But looking back it's hard for me to remember those things. That's why people that can have babies keep doing it I guess.  We forget.

When I was pregnant I remember feeling Liam kick at night in bed, and having this overwhelming feeling that I now had a tiny connection to Miles' birth mother.  Until that point I couldn't relate to what she felt with him inside of her.

I bet he was a kicker.

Did she sing to him, or rest her hand on his tiny bump? 

How did she do it?

I mean, I complained the whole time, but I knew I was going to get a baby at the end of it all.  I was having a baby in a traditional marriage and I knew that I had a husband and tons of family to help me.  I also knew I had a great job that I could probably keep forever if I wanted to. I had a house with plenty of bedrooms and two cars with carseats galore. I had every amenity in the world for a middle-class white girl in America, but I still spent so much of my time worrying, complaining, and wishing I didn't practically pee my pants ever day.  (Damn you Eve and that dirty apple.)

So let's take the weekend to celebrate the bodies that grow the babies we love.  It's hard work making a human.  

But let's also remember that it's even harder work raising one.