When I was little, a go-to staple in our house was chicken and dumplings. There were no cutting corners according to my mother, so she would haul out the pressure cooker in preparation of cooking the chicken to just the right degree of fall apart when it hits your fork. She would keep that pressure cooker going all day; the silver and black knob at the top destined to start its rattling and hissing at any given second, indicating the time to pull the chicken for shredding and drop the dumplings for stewing in the broth. My mouth waters just thinking about it.
But I'm not here to talk about food. All around me, there are babies. Babies galore. Friends, acquaintances, people I just met in line at Dunkin' Donuts have all had the their lives graced by the blessed presence of an infant. In perfect honesty, I'm the odd woman out.
While I feel, nor do I wish to impart, any pressure to get a little one cooking inside of me, there is a distinct feeling of being inside of that pressure cooker my momma loved. Only instead of dumplings, the desired product is an equally squishable baby. There are far too many people out there who will tell me that I'm still a baby myself and that I ought to learn more of the world before bringing more life into it, but as thirty marches ever closer, I find myself sweating in the presence of what I can only describe is baby fever.
I want kids. My husband wants kids. Some may call us equally matched on that front, but as the "right time" comes for scores of other couples, I can't help but feel the proverbial clock ticking, and it's not such a distant clock anymore. I'm watching people younger than me by significant leaps announce the sex of their babies as I type this, and in the face of the pressure, I'm sweating. Just like those dumplings my momma dumped inside of that bath of broth so many years ago.
Have I accomplished all I wanted to accomplish by this time in my life? Can we afford this? How will this change me? Change us?
It's exhilirating. It's scary. The realm of emotions coursing through me right now is hard to describe. There hasn't been much else in life that has been so confusing, frightening, and exciting simultaneously. Unless you count the first time I rode a roller coaster. What a terrible comparison. That alone shows my ignorance.
Right now I'm deep inside that pressure cooker, and David Bowie and Queen are crooning in my ear. It's hot in here.
But I'm not here to talk about food. All around me, there are babies. Babies galore. Friends, acquaintances, people I just met in line at Dunkin' Donuts have all had the their lives graced by the blessed presence of an infant. In perfect honesty, I'm the odd woman out.
While I feel, nor do I wish to impart, any pressure to get a little one cooking inside of me, there is a distinct feeling of being inside of that pressure cooker my momma loved. Only instead of dumplings, the desired product is an equally squishable baby. There are far too many people out there who will tell me that I'm still a baby myself and that I ought to learn more of the world before bringing more life into it, but as thirty marches ever closer, I find myself sweating in the presence of what I can only describe is baby fever.
I want kids. My husband wants kids. Some may call us equally matched on that front, but as the "right time" comes for scores of other couples, I can't help but feel the proverbial clock ticking, and it's not such a distant clock anymore. I'm watching people younger than me by significant leaps announce the sex of their babies as I type this, and in the face of the pressure, I'm sweating. Just like those dumplings my momma dumped inside of that bath of broth so many years ago.
Have I accomplished all I wanted to accomplish by this time in my life? Can we afford this? How will this change me? Change us?
It's exhilirating. It's scary. The realm of emotions coursing through me right now is hard to describe. There hasn't been much else in life that has been so confusing, frightening, and exciting simultaneously. Unless you count the first time I rode a roller coaster. What a terrible comparison. That alone shows my ignorance.
Right now I'm deep inside that pressure cooker, and David Bowie and Queen are crooning in my ear. It's hot in here.
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