My Addiction

I am addicted to coffee and chocolate, but find me a mom that isn’t and I will find her secret.  Those addictions make sense though.  I don’t get enough sleep, hence the coffee and I don’t get enough peace, hence the chocolate.  My real addiction isn’t rooted in any logic.  I am addicted to being pregnant and having babies.  I feel a surge of jealousy every time I see a round belly or hear that a friend is expecting.  I long to feel a baby using my organs for kickboxing practice.  It is one of the only times I feel beautiful.

I have been either pregnant or nursing since March of 2008.  My pregnancies are easy, and my labors are easier.  My last was only an hour and a half from start to finish and I felt fine within an hour of giving birth.  The nurses kept telling me, “You are just made to have babies!”  The problem is:  I am finished.  My husband made the final decision and took steps to make sure that Lily is permanently our youngest child.  And while I might pray every night that the surgery reverses itself, I know that the chances are less than probable.  I try to be grateful for the three beautiful children I already have, and I am, intensely grateful, but addictions don’t ever make sense.  Even though I have a five-month-old baby that I absolutely adore, I want to be pregnant again.  Given the right spouse I could give the Duggars a run for their money, and be happy to do it.  I guess in the grand scheme of things it is best that I have one that will cut me off before we run out of money and patience. 

So my question is:  Is there a cure?  There is no twelve-step program for those women who would like to be eternally pregnant or have a million babies.  There is no magic pill to keep me from crying when my son says he wants a baby brother to play with.  He told me today that he wants a little brother named George that will play sharks with him.  Ford even offered to share his room.  He said we could make room for all the babies.  I don’t know that four would be enough, though,  or even five.  I think I will always have this feeling that we could have “just one more”.  So if you are pregnant and you catch me looking at you I don’t think you are fat, I think you are beautiful, and I would trade places with you in an instant.