When My Ovaries Speak, I Listen

So, my business has taken off. It's been taking off, but I can finally say it HAS taken off and that feels pretty damn good. Lots of hard work, a supportive husband and great clients that refer me new clients...professional life is good.

On the home front, M is finishing up two weeks of her first camp experience, and she has loved every minute of it. Potty training the littlest one is progressing smoothly and now, gearing up for his big boy bed. Summer date nights with the husband where I get to feel like his girlfriend and not the mother of his children are in abundance. Leaving for vacation in a week. Family life is good.

Just as things are settling into a nice rythym, a whole slew of friends have up and decided to either a.) get pregnant or b.) give birth (that baby I'm holding is just one of of the army of infants -- girls by the way -- that have recently entered into my world). I am surrounded by babies. Literally. This has awakened a semi-dormant, but oh-so-familiar drumming on my ovaries that I've been aware of since a year after I gave birth to my second. The message is loud clear:

MUST HAVE MORE BABIES.

Ok, not completely accurate. Maybe just one more baby.

There I said it. I want another baby. Oh, and in case you're wondering about the guy who needs to be on board to make this third-baby deal happen...He wants another one too. And I didn't have to twist his arm. Pinky swear.

I've been treating my baby fever over the last year -- which can only be attributed to biology since anyone who knows me, knows I'm not by nature a baby person -- with regular doses of work, cute clothes that would NOT fit a pregnant belly, and a if-it-happens-it-happens attitude.

More than that, though, the reality of two miscarriages early on has forced me to adopt a more emotionally cautious approach to the possibility of a third child. (Did you buy that? Good. I'm glad someone did because it's utter bullshit. Me. Want. Baby.)

But the reality is, although M regularly tells me I look "like a teenager" (God, I love that kid), my eggs are far from those of a teenager. If we really want to have a third, the time is now. I never thought we'd be that couple where sex would be a means to an end. The first two were definitely just part of our regular, um, routine. (I'll stop there because I know my inlaws read this blog.)

That is the reality, though. In a nutshell, gotta make good use of any remaining youngish eggs I may have left. So we're off to the races...with my doctor in tow. Hoping that ovulation kits, progesterone supplements and baby aspirin will put a little pep in my reproductive step.

Fingers crossed...