Pinged by the pang!

It has happened.

Much sooner than I ever thought it would, it has happened.

I felt the baby pang.

Let me assure you: I do NOT under any circumstances want another baby. No way, Jose'. To put the period at the end of that statement, you should know that I had a Mirena implanted on August 28th. The 5-year-long kind. And I intend to re-up that sucker five years from now. No more babies for me. Ever.

Nevertheless, the pang pinged me. And it first happened the very day I went to get the IUD.

Before my doctor implanted it, the office had me take a pregnancy test. I knew I wasn't pregnant; I had just had a period the week before. But when the nurse said I was ready for implantation of the IUD -- meaning I wasn't pregnant -- I found myself irrationally sad. Can you believe it?

I know our family is complete. I was pretty sure our family was complete when we were surprised by Curveball Clair. Now, 18-months-later, there is no "pretty" about it. I am Steven-Tyler-first-thing-in-the-morning-UGLY sure. There is no way we can afford another child; there is no way we want another child.

So what was that sadness all about? Out of the blue, I was really, bizarrely, disappointed that the pregnancy test came up negative -- and then I got even more sad thinking that I will never ever ever have another positive pregnancy test again.

I left the doctor's office bewildered, but I calmed myself by thinking, "Well, that was about the pregnancy test. The thrill of it. The mystery and excitement of a new unknown person growing in your womb. Not about an actual baby." So I felt like I was on OK ground. 

But then Saturday at Target, with my whole family in tow, I got stopped in my tracks - stopped dead - by a father bouncing his newborn baby girl on his shoulder while still-swollen-from-pregnancy Mom combed the racks for sleepers. The baby couldn't have been more than three weeks old. She was the tiniest little thing, with bright eyes and jet-black hair. She looked confused and content and cute as a button. I STRAIGHT UP wanted to steal her, put her in my purse and snuggle her little face and smell her hair until the cops came to take me away. 

The force of that feeling was so strong, I was really caught off-guard. Like, OK, don't judge me, but I had to actually say to myself (in my head), "DO NOT go over there and snatch that baby out of that man's hands. People don't really take too kindly to that."

What the hell?

Like I said, I don't want more children. I'm thrilled with and exhausted by the three lovebugs I have.

I think I just feel like the joys of the little tiny baby stage are so clouded by the suckage of the little tiny baby stage that I never properly enjoyed them. Or I didn't enjoy them as much as I could have.  And by the time the haze lifts, newborn has turned into infant has turned into toddler. It really is over in a flash. 

So when I see super-cute little newborns with their miniature little fists and little "O" mouths, the part of me that blanked on how great those things were during my own children's newbornness stands at attention and says "Hey, you! Baby! GET IN MY BELLY!"

The good thing is, the pang goes away on its own, without encouragement from me or anyone else. I muse for a little while about new-baby-smell and the satisfying weight of an 8-lb. sweet thing lying on your chest, sleeping peacefully. And then, Clair screams, "MOMMM-MEEEE! CUP!" while swatting at me, and I snap the eff out of it.

Thank God.