Sunday I met a 12-hour-hold newborn named Kaya. She was sort of mauve and her head was a little pointy. She stared directly at me and I tried not to stare at her mother’s breast when she was torn away for me to gaze upon. I kept saying “Holy crap! You had a baby!” And Maureen was like, “I know! It’s crazy!”
Sarah’s starting to show and Mel seems to be doing quite nicely. An old friend from high school is due this week, and my tattoo artist is expected to pop next week.
I had a pap this morning and had to decide whether or not I wanted to get a new birth control prescription. My nice doctor was slightly concerned that I’m not pregnant, but I didn’t tell her that I have no idea how any of that stuff works. Conception and ovulation, body temperatures and thermometers. I’m clearly not quite dedicated to the idea of it, or, as Charlie says, I’d have completely quit smoking by now. But the doctor said everything “looks good down there,” and if I’m not knocked up in the next couple of months, she’ll make sure stuff is operating properly by sending me to an OB/GYN.
I don’t know that I want to take it that far. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t want to find myself being poked, prodded, injected, and inseminated all for the sake of my personal procreation. Not to mention the fact that I can barely afford to make the truck payment this month. Nothing against anyone who has done this, but I don’t think my heart is in it enough to go to those lengths. But my periods are nasty enough being off the pill that I would like to either avoid them for 9 months, or go back on the pill. It would also be nice to time things in such a way that I could take the summer off, although I’ve already discovered that I have to take a math class next summer in order to graduate as planned.
But I guess that’s one thing about babies; you can’t really completely plan for that kind of thing.