“Beautiful linen crib sheets…100% organic cotton bumper…Ooh, click for alternate images.  Wow…”  Repeat after me: I will not look at nursery bedding online.  I will not look at nursery bedding online, while I am in my office and need to be working.  I will not look at nursery bedding online…and fantasize about my dream nursery…My dream nursery with Wedgewood blue colored walls, hand-painted animal silhouettes on the wall above the white wooden crib painted in lead-free paint, and the cozy eco-friendly glider strategically placed by the window…I will not do any of this…before I am even PREGNANT.

My name is Susan.  And I want a baby.

Let me back up.  I wonder if there are other women like me: young(ish), professional women who have always dreamed of having a family but have never actually been certain about when the right time would be to take that next step.   I always figured the steps would be fairly simple:  I’d have a stimulating, fulfilling career, marry a handsome, hard-working and compassionate man, and eventually we’d just know when the time was right to begin having a family.  (Side note:  I was raised and married in the Catholic church, so technically the time to begin having a family was right after the honeymoon, but that was never our plan.)

In this moment, I am more concerned about my own decision as a woman to know when the time is right to become a mom.  And I am beginning to think that, like other things in life, there is no predetermined “right time” —it just happens and you feel it and it’s right.  And I think that time might be now.  The signs are everywhere.  About a year ago, my doctor started gently nudging me as my 30^th birthday approached, hinting that I should really start thinking about starting a family.  I was aghast.  Was she joking?  I didn’t feel like I was in the right place professionally or financially to take on the responsibility of motherhood.  Then, she looked at me with her warm brown eyes and poker-face medical professional facial expression and said “Susan, it will never be the right time financially or professionally to have a baby.  You just have to go for it.  It will always mean sacrifice and it will always mean juggling priorities, but it will always be worth it.”  Her words stuck with me as I left her office, but it wasn’t until now, almost a year later, that I began to think that maybe I am starting to believe her.

The strangest thing now is that while my husband has been ready since about 2 months after we said our vows, I have been the hesitant one.  Because it is my career that will be most affected.  Because though I know he’ll be a wonderful, hands-on father, I also know that ultimately a bulk of the responsibility will fall to me.  I’ll have to figure out how much time I can take off work.  I’ll have to obsess over whether we let the baby cry it out.  I’ll have to decide what to feed him (or her!), etc.  There are just certain things I think always fall primarily on a mother’s shoulders.

So without a lot of forethought, suddenly, incredibly, I feel like Ally McBeal with that damned dancing baby…I am suddenly and completely obsessed with the idea of having a baby.  It started off gradually when I would notice myself becoming inappropriately overly enthusiastic when I’d learn that an acquaintance was expecting.  I’d want to know all the details – how long before they knew they were pregnant, what symptoms they were experiencing, were they going to find out the sex, what style did they want for the nursery décor, etc.  Then this excitement evolved into longer stares at strangers’ babies at the mall or in restaurants, detours at the book store to the maternity aisle, quick browses through informational sites like babycenter.com and thecradle.com.  Gradually, I started positioning myself to be spending more and more time with my friends who had babies and I was growing ever more inquisitive and bold with each visit.  When I stayed with a friend and her three month old for a week and I found myself pleading with her to let me change his diaper I knew something was going on…something that I hadn’t consciously thought about or something that I hadn’t really decided on, but it just happened.

Something awakened inside of me and I can’t put it to rest.

It manifests itself in the endless online searches for the perfect nursery bedding and the tireless research of how to chart my basal body temperature.  And while a lot of my desires to be a mom seem to present themselves through the urge to spend money on material items like baby clothes, bedding, books, etc.  what I really realize at the heart of everything is I just want a baby to snuggle.  Some little creature who will be a part of me and my husband, who I will care for and raise into (I hope!) a creative and compassionate human being.  When I dream of the perfect nursery it is only because I picture myself in it, rocking my little one to sleep, looking into his or her squinty eyes and hoping the kid knows just how loved and adored he or she really is.  And when I picture those walls it’s not because I am obsessed with home décor, but it’s because I love the idea of a home filled with busy toddlers and dogs, bustling with energy and intrigue and just generally full of life.

So here’s to the realization that maybe my life is about to change, if I am so blessed.  Maybe someday soon my online shopping sprees will shift from shoe sales at Saks.com to burp cloth sales at Babies R Us.  Either way, it feels good to acknowledge what is really going on and that somehow, slowly, I’ve been bitten by the bug…that pesky, persistent, want-to-be-a-mom bug. . .

Now that Santa is on my resume, I’ve become the consummate purveyor of kiddy gifts both great and small.

Okay, maybe the whole Santa schtick is just my excuse to indulge in all things cute and cuter.  To give myself a baby gift every once and a while.

I mean, who can resist a light pink toggle coat in size 18 months? Or a pair of sparkly princess shoes accompanied by an adorable little voice uttering “peeeeease” without prompting? Judging from my dining room gone playroom, “Not I,” said the little pushover mommy.

But I’m not the only one responsible for this overabundance of large plastic objects and tiny precious keepsakes. My friends have been overly generous from day one. Helping me get through the new mommy mayhem with grace and designer burp cloths.

They’ve also given me their infinite pearls of mommy wisdom. The fact that cashmere for their first Christmas might be a bit impractical,but man is it cute. That my 8 pound, 6 ounce tiny tot requires 800 pounds and 6 ounces of stuff. And that mammary glands are averse to stress, so a weekly mani/pedi gift to myself is essential to my baby’s well-being.

Then there’s my mom who has the same weakness that I do for all things precious, including my two girls. And with a more lenient budget to boot, she indulges in everything hand smocked, hand knit and hand wash only. Thus, ensuring that my children are eternally well-dressed. And that I’m eternally doing laundry.

But I have to say, my favorite baby gifts are the ones I’ve received from my babies. The grape popsicle stain I discover on my shirt that gets me out of a bad client meeting funk. The masterpiece my oldest daughter paints on her little sister. The pure, unadulterated joy a “girls versus boy” pillow fight brings not only to them, but to me as well.

Come to think of it, this whole Santa gig is by far the best job I’ve ever had. But whether it’s better to give than to receive, the jury’s still out on that one.

My name is Holly. I’m a Twilite Moon Mom.

Jan, an expecting Twilite Moon Mom, tells us her “Life with Baby” story…

We always knew we wanted a baby, but life gets in the way and we kept making excuses why now is not the right time. My husband and I still had so many adventures left to take; we wanted to conquer the world.

After both of us spent some time looking at the clock (my biological clock), we decided to start trying. Well, we weren’t really prepared for the trying to actually work. When I told him we were pregnant, we both looked like kids ourselves smiling until it hurt, bursting into giggles every time we looked at each other. Wow- we’re really doing this.

Even before we made it public people told me I was glowing (the hormones making my T-zone an oil slick). It’s amazing what the human body is capable of. Or let’s be specific-the woman’s body. Soon other changes in my body started to appear.

In sixth grade, the Richard twins punched me in the face at recess, because their boyfriends were looking at my big boobs. Unfortunately my “34 barely a B-cup” breasts have not grown a millimeter since then. Now, for the first time I’m busting out of a C-cup. I wear them with pride, after all who knows how long they’ll be like this. I’ve never had a man not meet my eyes in conversation, now I know what my well-endowed friends have been complaining about all these years. I revel in this new gift and laugh at them, “arghh silly men, they have no idea of the power we have over them”.

I love every new lump, bump and bulge. Every time I look in the mirror my body has changed again. It is truly an engineering feat! I pass strangers on the street and they smile at me in congratulations, I want to stop them and shout, “I’m making a baby as we speak-how amazing is that?”.

I feel like a hero discovering her powers for the first time. 130 million women do it every year, and now I have been invited into their secret club. My husband marvels at my monumental achievements. He’s finally nodding his head when I say we are the stronger sex. Even when my doctor frowns at my bulging ankles that have grown to the size of my knees, I am bursting with pride. My body’s doing what it was meant to do, and I am the lucky one along for the ride.

I’m 34 weeks along now, and my husband and I just took some photos of my progress. We look at them in awe, “How is that me?” Our little wonder is in there becoming more of herself every day. And we can’t wait to meet her and show her this great big world.

My body may be growing in miraculous ways, but at the same time our hearts are swelling too. We realize here we are- already on that ultimate adventure we’ve been looking for. And we can’t wait to see what happens next!

My name is Jan. I’m a Twilite Moon expecting mom.

No one ever thinks about the fact that the birth of a baby is also the birth of a mom.

In my past life, I bought margaritas in bulk, read the Sunday Times ‘Style’ section religiously and wore fashionable clothes.

Now, I buy diapers in bulk, read Dr. Seuss religiously & still buy fashionable clothes, just in sizes 12 months and 4T.

I’m the mother of Willo, a hilarious tomboy princess 3-year-old and Noey, a mommy obsessed 1-year-old.

Since producing these masterpieces, I’ve become quite skilled in the art of functioning on four hours of sleep, cooking chicken nuggets on handed, and going potty with a baby on my lap.

Tea parties & finger painting are great stress reducers, and they’ve taught me a devotion that never wanes, even during the most terrible of the two’s.

I’m often amazed and overwhelmed that I’m a mom—a disciplinarian, a jungle gym, a mac n’ cheese connoisseur,
a veggie pusher, a cruise director, an actual grown up scheduling parent/teacher conferences.

Sometimes, I literally get mom fright.  Am I qualified for this job?  Is it okay that my rice cakes aren’t organic?  Or that I’m relieved to have alone time with my laptop?

Is it okay that I work part-time at a creative job I semi enjoy, but have questioned because of the separation anxiety (mine) and the 72.33% of my salary that goes to a nanny?

Throughout my tenure as a mom, I’ve come to realize that there are no right answers.  Regardless of what the child “experts” dictate, I’m the one who truly knows what’s right for my child.

I’ve also come to realize that adult neuroses aren’t welcome in this world of potty training and Cheerio flinging and that I’m fine at what I do despite the M&M bribes.

Sure, I sometimes miss my pre-mommy life, but I’ll take a G-rated movie date, a new tooth and especially a sweet potato kiss over leisurely sipping margaritas any day.

My name is Holly. I’m a Twilite Moon Mom.