and on a more serious note...

I seem to be nesting.

I wouldn't even know what that was, except when I was very, very, very, re: very pregnant, I nested.

It started off with bringing the Christmas village out and putting it on the fireplace mantle (with the huge mirrors over the fireplace, it looks amazing). And then I sent rockstar hubby out to put up the lights on the house (note: they need to be fixed. They are all crooked and silly-like and I'm embarassed to turn them on as I am the daughter of Clark W. Griswald. No, I'm serious. You have to meet my dad.)then I 'made' a Christmas wreath which doesn't do it for me, so it's over the fireplace too.
But then I found my chest of magazines. The gaffer immediately announced it his 'treasure chest' and I emptied it. I organized my 'Cooking Light' from 'Bon Appetit'. And realized I am seriously in back-order reading denial. So I placed them in my lovely bookcase. But then I had to organize my books in the bookcase. And then I had to empty the other bookcase so the first would look full. And now I have an empty bookcase. While I have so many more books downstairs, I wouldn't necessarily bring them up because I don't read them often and I can't bring myself to get rid of them. So I brought up the videos. All of them. And then I realized how hideous it looked to have a gray bookcase full of VHS (you can buy them cheap!) so I put up pictures and frames in front of them. And then I had to move the couch. And then I started throwing things out. Can I just say it's 8:23pm and I started at 3:30? I can't stop. I ate supper, but I ate it too fast so now I'm running around and some kind of weird adrenaline with my tummy burping up icky green peppers (bloody sauce).

And then I found the bag.

The plastic Walmart bag that my friend had given me because she was finished with using the gaffer's newborn clothes.

The smell hit me like a tidal wave.

Baby smell.

I lovingly pulled out each outfit, did up all the buttons and snaps very carefully, and then held them to my face as I breathed deeply. I could remember the smell of my baby, when he was oh-so-young and I was so-out-of-my-mind with exhaustion. And as I sniffed slowly, remembering, my uterus ached. I unrolled the little sockies (yes I know they are 'socks' but you can't call them anything else when they are that little) and stuck my fingers inside. I never put socks on the gaffer. I was always too busy smelling his feet.

And it made me think.

How I'm 'due' for that time in 4ish days. But my breasts don't ache. And I count back to fertility time and we had done it twice. I remember praying that night, "Please God, don't let me be pregnant. I don't want a baby. I've changed my mind. But Your will, of course."

And here I am sniffing socks.

Last week, rsh and I went to a Christmas party and I got to talk to a casual friend of mine. She has 4 kids. She gets pregnant by just looking at her husband. I asked if she was having more. She tossed her beautiful head back, laughing out loud saying, "Of course! And what about you?"
I explained the situation.
Of course she laughed and told me that as 'soon as you stop trying, your body relaxes and it'll happen more easily'.
I wanted to slap her. And I love her. A lot. But I wanted to slap her.

I very much dislike smug women. I've always told myself if I ever have another child, I would never, ever say to a woman, 'oh just relax! blah blah'. My body, my state of relaxation/hornyness(sp?)/excitement/exhaustion has nothing to do with anything. It's all God's will. And that's what I want. His will.

But right now, in the dark of my dining room, the faint glow of the living room calling me back to be cleaned some more, right now, where no one can see me, my heart aches.

Dare I say it?

I want a baby.