The world around me is full of babies. Newborn babies with their tiny feet, little hands and cutey patootie faces. Not to mention pregnant mommies, with gorgeous round bellies and those quiet, inward glances where you just know they’re checking in with their babies-to-be.
It’s enough to give even the sanest of women a twinge of baby fever. And sane? Is something I’ve never pretended to be.
But having another baby? Is not an idea I’m entirely on board with right now.
Which is why I’m forcing myself to look at photos like this one:
- Mad baby. Always a good baby fever killer.
But then, of course, I run across pictures like this:
- Heart. Squeezed.
…And we’re back to square one.
Which is when I go back and read the posts from when I was at my most exhausted, most overwhelmed, and most discouraged.
That works. For a while. Until I do something stupid like read the first post I wrote after she entered the world, or this one, or this one.
…And then the wondering begins again.
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