Grateful: Day 85 - Walking Womb

Ah, today!

I am grateful for honest friends, opportunities, people who accept me even when I'm a bit arse, good food, and a warm place to sleep.

Thank you for the babyfest this morning. Locked into my cafe seat in between 5-month-old and 8-month-old baby boys (with their respective families, of course - it wasn't some weird dream where they were all 9 feet tall and bouncing along like something off the Tellytubbies).

One mother said 'Babies love you, don't they.' (They did, those two. Even hers, who, she said 'doesn't smile at most people'). I only just (by a hair, by a cell-width) resisted saying 'It's because I'm a walking womb'*. I didn't want my silly eyes to give me away, especially as I wasn't sad, just moved, and driven by hormones like turbo engine fuel.

It's funny. I do, of course, think a lot about having children. I'm 40. If it might ever happen, it needs thinking about. And biology really does seem to do what it needs to. It makes babies cute, so even non-maternal people will protect them. It makes something in me open up another level of awareness when a small child is around. Older children, not so much. Babies, toddlers. If they're related to me, older children of course, but if not, it's mostly the drive of 'one of those little things'. As close as you can get to what you'd have.

But much as it sometimes makes me cry, or yearn to nurture, it doesn't make me irrational. It's not as if I'd just go and get pregnant. I can enjoy moments smiling at random babies, or talking to toddlers. I can be an aunty, when that's possible, location-wise, and I'm sure I can be an aunty to other children too, some time in the future. And I'm grateful that I have the choice, on so many levels, about what to do and who else is involved. It's powerful stuff, that.

Thank you, too, for Babyface Action Man - a man doll wearing just a vest, with a huge, printed, newborn baby's face stuck to his head. I have had him since the birth of said baby (possibly as long as seven years ago, maybe even eight). He gives me joy.

Thank you for an outstanding coaching call (Sarah Dawrant at www.forwardbound.ca - I'll say it again, no doubt. The girl is GOOD). I enjoyed that session hugely. Thank you to Mr Snowball (I'm not shitting you) for sending through files. Thank you for early work tomorrow, which will be fun, for all the clothes I need and for my cheap German spectacles.

Thank you for the loveliest tenants ever, now moved in, for a sweet potato feast with Ruth and for a friend who had the courage to tell me the truth about how she felt, even though it was hard. I was hard. Thank you for people in my life who are willing to be honest. You refresh me. I am very lucky to have you.

The phrase 'walking womb' on Google images throws up Kate Middleton (or whatever she's called now), a giraffe and a picture of a lady and a massive burger (see above) and this. Fuuuuuuuucccckkkk.