Cluck-Cluck Mother Hen

I am finding myself in a very precarious position of late. I feel vulnerable. Need protection even. In my wildest dreams I didn't think this would happen. I had not envisaged even coming close to wanting what I want right now.


At this very point in time, I'd LOVE another baby! All of a sudden the protection I'm requiring is of a very contraceptive kind. Although that is not exactly what I am referring to here.


More importantly, I need to get myself through the current adorably delicious chubby bubby phase I'm blissfully sailing through with Felix. I recall this 'danger' period with Angus. When Angus was aged from around 6 to 12 months, I was convinced we needed another baby. The glorious smiles & laughter. The sweet dulcit tones. The heart warming baby cuddles. They would surely last forever. yeah? yeah?? Well, kind of, but this time with one toddler under the belt and a hell of alot more hindsight, I have no excuse. It does get tough again... just around the corner. Hello Terrible 2's!


I recall a good friend asking me on Angus' 1st birthday about our plans for another bub. Bearing in mind, this friend has produced three beautiful babies, in as many years. Clearly NOT a good example for someone with my cluck cluck clucky genes. I digress. Anyway, she told me that the longer I waited, the potentially harder and less likely it would be for me to want another child. She wasn't half wrong. As if almost like I had been programmed to shut down the desire for another bub, soon after Angus turned 1, I went cold on the idea of expanding the brood. Well, something must have gone haywire with the programming, as I regained the desire to conceive Felix some months later.


Unfortunately, I'm not grossed out by nappies, I kind of enjoy breast feeding and I have an overwhelming urge for challenges. Oh. I'm in danger alright. 


Therefore, the next few months I MUST remain stoic. I need to focus on the 10 months (yes 10 months!) of back-breaking, leg swelling, nausea inducing pregnancy. The zombie state that consumes me as soon as that newborn greets our world. The ridiculous jealousy we have to endure from the other sibling/s. 


I CANNOT be swayed by the cheeky baby coo's. The roll upon roll of chub spilling out of every singlet, jumpsuit or pair of shorts. The cuddles, snuggles and smooches. I must keep my head down and aim for the 12 month line. A place I know once I get to, will keep me safe. For at least a period of time, from which I might be comfortable in heading down the baby path again. Who honestly knows? 

AND if I can just keep my busy fingers off the camera for a while and STOP taking delightful photos like these, I might help my cause. Even if just a fraction.