I’ve had it bad. For weeks now. And it’s all Laura’s fault.

She had to say, “hey, I’ve never seen your birth videos…”

So we watched them. And before you get all “ewww, you taped the births of your children?” let me defend myself. I am was a major birth junkie. I’d never seen an actual birth, and I knew I wasn’t going to get to see the most important ones: the ones starring me. So yes, I did tape them, and no I don’t regret it. They have brought me hours and hours of enjoyment, pride, healing and nostalgia. I treasure my birth videos (but not to the point of posting them on YouTube).

So when Laura mentioned them, I willingly obliged. And it was great. And now I want another baby. (Yes, still.)

And today I went to see the chiropractor, who happens to share an office with a midwifery practice. And there were lots of pregnant women there, and women with tiny babies, and growing babies, and a book from a local photographer with beautiful photos of pregnant women and babies and dads with babies and…and…it was enough to make my ovaries ache (or could that have been menstrual cramps?)

And about a month ago, I would have told you I was DONE. We were almost FREE. One child in full-day school, her sister entering Kindergarten this fall. Both able to ski, hike, bike on their own. Neither needing a stroller, bottle, sippy cup or diaper.

So why this urge, this ache, this wanting another baby?

Is it physical? These nearly forty-year old ovaries kicking in one last blast of biological clock-ticking just to sow the genes one last time?

Is it emotional? Not wanting to let go of my own two babies who are inexorably and relentlessly leaving me? An unexplained desire for one more little being who needs me so entirely (and can’t talk back?) A nostalgic yearning for a time of my life that will forever be recalled in a rose-coloured haze?

Or do I really, truly want another child?

When I mentioned it to my husband, all he said was, “if we had a boy, I think I’d like to name him Luke.”