There's this series of health books you can buy at the Newsagents every Sunday, these hardback Dorint Kinderslee-looking things that they advertised on the TV, but which we are not interested in. It's this "A-Z of the body" type series, all 26 of them, and you can buy each new addition each week to check and see if you are suffering from an affliction you never guessed you had. Personally I love books like those-it's always interesting to read up and see if you do have scabies, Wernicke's encephalopathy or dysentery-I swear half the time I read the symptoms and think: I am so screwed. I totally have rubella. I just know it. And I most definitely have the encephalitic lethargica.

This week's afflictions were brought to you by the letter: B, and the number: £2.99. As I went to the shop to rent a DVD and buy a lottery ticket (it's kinda' the answer to my problems with work right now. Really. It can help me get to the lifestyle to which I need to become accustomed) I saw the "B" book in the series. "B" is for body. "B" is for botulism. "B" is for bacterial vaginosis, Behcet's Disease, Bilharzial dysentery, bipolar disorder, Bockhart's impetigo and Brill-Zinsser disease.

Some of these things I know of. Some I don't. But there, in the print on top the shiny hard top of the book just aching for a coffee cup to be set on it, was a B term that I did know, and I knew it better than the bastards that compiled such insightful B-word maladies.

"Biological clock".

There is was, written on the cover, ready to be explained to me, in case I had my ears stuffed with cotton and couldn't hear mine ticking away.

But I don't need a book to tell me about my biological clock. I am the perfect specimen to dissect in an anatomy lab full of nervous med students about to toss their cookies-put me on a table and slip a scalpel into the fine white flesh on my breastbone, split my ribs, and there it is, beating inside of me, ticking into the tiny threads and nerves that run throughout my body, making my eyes yearn, my fingers itch, and my uterus whimper. I know the biological clock, and I know it every single day.

Last Wednesday afternoon I took an earlier train home from work-gifted with a short and productive meeting and a lengthy bit of time before my woman doctor check-up, I was able to take a quieter train home from the city. I always relish the chance to ride on the quieter trains-I hate the hustle and bustle of people invading my personal space, reading over my shoulder, peeking into my mind. With relief, I took a train graced with weary business types and parents with very young children.

Of those two groups, it was clear which group I fit into.

I sat down, allowing myself the luxury of keeping my possessions on the seat next to me as opposed to lugging them onto the overhead bin (coat? Check. Briefcase? Check. Fuck-off large projector? Check.) and got out a new book to start reading. I ate a Cornish pasty, the businessperson's fast lunch of choice, and washed it down with a bottle of too-cold water. I felt a chill along my arms but relief in my brain at being done.

The beeping doors indicate a new arrival on the still-stationary train at Waterloo, and as I look up I see a grandmother matronly holding the hand of a small and perfectly-formed little girl, around 3 or so. The little girl was a caricature of children bedecked in winter clothes-big puffy jacket, scarf wound around her head so many times she could hold up a bank and not be identified. And she was wearing a multi-colored hat that tied at her chin, and was in the shape of a tear.

Dear God don't let them sit here, my mind screamed. Let them sit somewhere else. Don't put them by me.

And with characteristic karmic suck, they park themselves across from me. The grandmother goes about fussing with her belongings, adjusting things just so. And the little girl just looks up at me, with enormous and gorgeous eyes that were brown on the inside and green on the outside. She had rose petal lips and her upper lip was larger than her lower lip, which made her look serenely cute. Her lips twitched and I saw in her cheeks the beginnings of a smile, beaming in at 14,000 watts and with the capacity to fuel small towns, before her grandmother addressed her.

I got my book out and put my iPod headphones in. I didn't want to talk to them. I didn't want them sitting near me. I would've grabbed my things and left had I not already settled in and unpacked myself on my seats. I catch a sniff and realize it's the smell of child, the smell of patent leather and sunsilk hair shampoo, of feces and sunshine and crayons.

I love that smell.

The grandmother pulls off the teardrop hat and the little girl's perfect brunette bob has static fly-away arcing up in some kind of protest to now being hatless. The little girl talks to her grandmother incessantly, and the grandmother indulgently hangs on every word. She then gets out a chunky mobile phone and makes a few complicated mobile phone calls about times, dates, where to meet once off the train, and the best way to get boots resoled.

The little girl lays her head down on her grandmother's lap, on top of her chestnut leather purse, and looks out the window. Her cheek is smooth on the purse, and her still-gloved fingers trace little circles on her grandmother's knee as she simply melts into the time and space of the chair and her grandmother's lap, a puppy on linoleum, a kitten on a windowsill. She has the spineless quality that only young children can have, the spinelessness encouraged by the complete lack of self-consciousness that will rob them so cruelly later in life.

If I were the grandmother, I wouldn't be able to keep myself from smoothing her hair.

The grandmother is making an appointment with a speech therapist for the girl. The girl has a very poshy name. 'She has an S-T-U-T-T-E-R,' she whispers conspiratorily. 'Not when she's talking, but when she's between words.'

And as I listen to the little girl I hear a lot of hitches and catches as she talks, sounds which, to me, equate to the little-girl inability to get enough words out quickly enough, to try to battle through the log jam of thoughts that want to bubble up all at once.

They get off at the next stop, and the grandmother ties the tear-drop hat back on her head. She adjusts it, pulling it one way then another, as the little girl amiably allows her head to be tugged by knitwear in a way that only children allow. They get off the train and walk hand-in-hand on the platform, the little girl's shoes struggling to keep up.

And as they walk away I get my laptop out and wonder if I can put it into text just how badly I want one of those. I wonder if I can make it through the afternoon for want of crying for one. I wonder if I can keep going through birthdays of Angus' families' children unscathed, I wonder if I will ever be able to know what it is like to be loved like a mother, to be a mother.

People say: Of course, Helen, it has to happen! And: Absolutely, Helen! You will be a mother.

But that doesn't make it so.

And it doesn't make it all feel ok, either.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:25 AM | Comments (26) | Add Comment
Post contains 1319 words, total size 7 kb.

1 If you wish for it so much, you deserve it, but don't forget that a baby will make a radical change in your life. You have to be ready for that also, because not all change is nessecarily all good.

Posted by: Irene at February 01, 2005 09:16 AM (YzTkY)

2 "I am so screwed. I totally have rubella." Have you read 3 men in a boat? http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext95/3boat10.txt I can guarentee that you don't have housemaid's knee ;-)

Posted by: Rob at February 01, 2005 12:21 PM (kXZI6)

3 I just love the way you write. Weekends really suck because you don't blog then. I continue to be amazed at how you open your soul here. You'll get no platitudes from me because I know what a raw nerve this subject is for you. I hope that future commenters will have the decency to do the same. One day at a time, babe.

Posted by: Easy at February 01, 2005 01:24 PM (31dwV)

4 Outside of having your own consider adoption. There are sooo many children out there that need a good home.

Posted by: drew at February 01, 2005 01:58 PM (CBlhQ)

5 The issue isn't really adoption versus not. By all means comment, but in the spirit of what Easy said-this topic hits a nerve. A raw one. A big, throbbing, bleeding raw one. I usually close comments on these posts but I left them open this time since I know I am not alone with a ticking clock, and I left them open in hopes no one would tell me about adoption, God's will, or that I should start looking for a 19 year-old cabana boy. You want to help me? Tell me a joke. A good one. I could really, really use one today.

Posted by: Helen at February 01, 2005 02:03 PM (uFX1z)

6 My heart goes out to you. Maybe more so because I'm trying to control the ticking of my biological clock as well.

Posted by: Jadewolff at February 01, 2005 02:14 PM (8MfYL)

7 Hey Mommy! Just wanted you to hear it because it is the sweetest sound that you will ever hear. Tick...Tick...Tick Don't mean to poke. Somebody told me I had to. Take Care Michael

Posted by: Michael at February 01, 2005 02:48 PM (OEVsR)

8 I wasn't going to mention adoption (because you're right, adoption and having your own child are two totally different issues), I don't have any details on God's will and I've not yet met any 19 year old cabana boys so I can't comment about those, either. However, I totally, totally empathize with you. When I see children running around, my heart leaps, flips and then plummets to my stomach. I simultaneously want one, but am scared I wouldn't make a good mother and then realize it doesn't matter because I'm not pregnant, anyway. Obviously, there's no way I can predict your future and see into my crystal ball to find out if you'll have children of your own in the near future, but I can say I'm so glad you now have wonderful Angus with whom you can share all these feelings. And naturally, you have your fabulous blog friends, too. And I also sympathize with you about thinking you have every illness under the sun. Every time I read the DSM, I'm convinced I have paranoid schizophrenia, type 2 (never type 1! Heavens no!) or Munchausen's by proxy (even though I don't have children) or some strange illness. I just go down the list of symptoms and say, "Yep, I've got that. Yep, that too."

Posted by: kitty at February 01, 2005 02:55 PM (cyfSY)

9 I never knew that "ache" you write about until recently, when the fear that I may not be able to have children came into our lives. It's a wretched ache to feel.

Posted by: Rebecca at February 01, 2005 02:57 PM (ZHfdF)

10 I know how you feel. I'm thirty-something and in a new relationship, waiting for it to get to the next level. Hoping it works out so I can finally be a mother. I ache for it a lot!

Posted by: Milly at February 01, 2005 04:07 PM (o8hq+)

11 Oh darling girl. Massive great love across the pond. No platitudes, just gobs of fucked-up irony.

Posted by: Kaetchen at February 01, 2005 04:17 PM (1nMRx)

12 ((hugs and love)) to you helen. that was so beautifully written.

Posted by: kat at February 01, 2005 04:21 PM (ejrqO)

13 Oh, the ache. I have a niece that has got me completely wrapped around her little scrunchy nose. I get weepy thinking about her. It something fierce that gnaws at me and makes me wonder if I'll ever be able to absolve the idea of going childless. And I think I must or lest drown in my own desire to procreate and miss the boat on real love for fear of running out of time.

Posted by: syd at February 01, 2005 04:37 PM (+5y9p)

14 Ok, someone's going to have to define platitude. I was willing to let it go after Easy used it, but now Kaetchen is using it too. I hope I don't commit a platitude. Your biological clock is ticking? MY biological clock is ticking too!! I want a son so bad I can taste it, and I can't get the Super Model Mrs. Solomon to give in. And by the Strom Thurmond calculation, I've only got 35 years left to father a son (I'm in my late 30's now). That wasn't too platitudial was it? You said you wanted humor...I tried. And, yes, I really do know what platitude means everyone.

Posted by: Solomon at February 01, 2005 04:54 PM (k1sTy)

15 Shit. How bad do I feel. I only found this site because I was Doing an MSN Search On boots pregnany tests looking for one that told me not to buy them because they are the only tests on the planet that show Positive when really the only reason your boobs are screaming is because they have been hauled up in a super duper wonder bra for the last 24 hours and you really can have a hang over that has lasted for 8 days but on appears in the morning. But no Instead I found a website for some one who is so clearly longing for a baby. I wish you well and hate the injustice of it all. I wish I could transport this thing from me into you, people all over the would do anything to be in my position, but right now I'd give anything to be in yours.... See I already sound like a mother, full of wise words and wisdom. AARGGGGGHHHHH

Posted by: Lorraine at February 01, 2005 05:18 PM (DZVar)

16 There's ALWAYS a joke over at the Glory Road. Occasionally there's one that's actually funny, too.

Posted by: Easy at February 01, 2005 06:35 PM (31dwV)

17 A funny joke? I think I can manage that... HOW TO MAINTAIN A HEALTHY LEVEL OF INSANITY IN THE WORKPLACE Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice. Find out where your boss shops and buy exactly the same outfits. Wear them one day after your boss does. This is especially effective if your boss is of a different gender than you. Make up nicknames for all your coworkers and refer to them only by these names. "That's a good point, Sparky." "No, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to disagree with you there, Cha-cha." Send e-mail to the rest of the company telling them exactly what you're doing. For example: "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the bathroom." Hi-Lite your shoes. Tell people you haven't lost them as much since you did this. While sitting at your desk, soak your fingers in Palmolive liquid. Call everyone Madge. Hang mosquito netting around your cubicle. When you emerge to get coffee or a printout or whatever, slap yourself randomly the whole way. Put a chair facing a printer. Sit there all day and tell people you're waiting for your document. Every time someone asks you to do something, anything, ask him or her if they want fries with that. Send e-mail back and forth to yourself engaging yourself in an intellectual debate. Forward the mail to a co-worker and ask her to settle the disagreement. Encourage your colleagues to join you in a little synchronized chair-dancing. Put your trash can on your desk. Label it "IN." Feign an unnatural and hysterical fear of staplers. Send e-mail messages saying there's free pizza or donuts or cake in the lunchroom. When people drift back to work complaining that they found none, lean back, pat your stomach and say, "Oh you've got to be faster than that." Put decaf in the coffee maker for three weeks. Once everyone has withdrawn from caffeine addiction, switch to espresso.

Posted by: Jim at February 01, 2005 07:19 PM (tyQ8y)

18 Hey, speaking of platitudes... Has anybody ever received a full platitude?

Posted by: Jim at February 01, 2005 07:27 PM (tyQ8y)

19 A father and son went hunting together for the first time. The father said, "Stay here and be very QUIET. I'll be across the field." A few minutes later, the father heard a bloodcurdling scream and ran back to his son. "What's wrong?" the father asked. "I told you to be quiet." The son answered, "Look, I was quiet when the snake slithered across my feet. I was quiet when the bear breathed down my neck. I didn't move a muscle when the skunk climbed over my shoulder. I closed my eyes and held my breath when the wasp stung me. I didn't cough when I swallowed the gnat. I didn't cuss or scratch when the poison oak started itching. But when the two chipmunks crawled up my pant legs and said, 'Should we eat them here or take them with us?' Well, I guess I just panicked."

Posted by: John at February 01, 2005 08:06 PM (7bs10)

20 Go Git Momma! A redneck family from the hills was visiting the city and they were in a mall for the first time in their lives. The father and son were strolling around while the wife shopped. They were amazed by almost everything they saw, but especially by two shiny, silver walls that could move apart and then slide back together again. The boy asked, "Paw, What's 'at?" The father (never having seen an elevator) responded, "Son, I dunno. I ain't never seen anything like that in my entire life, I ain't got no idea'r what it is." While the boy and his father were watching with amazement, a fat old lady walked up to the moving walls and pressed a button. The walls opened and the lady walked between them into a small room. The walls closed and the boy and his father watched the small circular numbers above the walls light up sequentially. They continued to watch until it reached the last number and then the numbers began to light in the reverse order. Then the walls opened up again and a gorgeous, voluptuous 24-year-old blonde woman stepped out. The father, not taking his eyes off the young woman, said quietly to his son, "Boy, go git yer Momma...."

Posted by: John at February 01, 2005 08:14 PM (7bs10)

21 A man and his wife were having some problems at home and were giving each other the silent treatment. Suddenly, the man realized that the next day, he would need his wife to wake him at 5:00 AM for an early morning business flight. Not wanting to be the first to break the silence (and LOSE), he wrote on a piece of paper, "Please wake me at 5:00 AM." He left it where he knew she would find it. The next morning, the man woke up, only to discover it was 9:00 AM and he had missed his flight. Furious, he was about to go and see why his wife hadn't wakened him, when he noticed a piece of paper by the bed. The paper said, "It is 5:00 AM. Wake up." Men are not equipped for these kinds of contests.

Posted by: Flikka at February 02, 2005 02:46 AM (puvdD)

22 How about some silly jokes? I'm fresh out of good ones. Here goes the first: A vampire bat came flapping in from the night covered in fresh blood and parked himself on the cave's roof to get some sleep. Soon all the other bats smelled the blood and began hassling him about where he got it. He told them to shut up and let him get some sleep, but they persisted until he finally gave in. "OK, follow me." He flew out of the cave with hundreds of bats behind him, swooping down through a valley they went, across a river and into a forest of trees. Finally he slowed down and all the other bats excitedly milled around him, licking their lips. "Do you see that tree over there?" "YES, YES, YES!!" the bats all screamed in a frenzy. "Well...I didn't!"

Posted by: physics geek at February 02, 2005 04:22 AM (4n1mT)

23 Bungee Jumping in Mexico =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Eke and Zeb decided to build a bungee jumping tower in Cabo San Lucas, to make a little money. After they got it set up, they noticed the crowds gather, but nobody bought tickets.... Zeke tells Zeb, "Maybe we should demonstrate it, so they'll get the idea." After Zeb is strapped in he jumps, falling almost all they way to the ground before springing back. As Zeb came back up, Zeke noticed that his clothes were all torn and wondered what this is was all about. Zeb went down again, bouncing as jumping this way does, and this time when he came back, up Zeke noticed that Zeb was bleeding. Zeke thought, "Wow...what's going on here? Is the cord too short? Is he touching ground? Zeb went back down for a third time, and this time when he sprung back up, Zeke noticed that he had blood, contusions and cuts all over his body. "Huh?" Zeke pulled Zeb in and said, "Zeb, what happened?" Zeb groaned out in obvious pain, "I don't know... but what's a pinata?

Posted by: physics geek at February 02, 2005 04:24 AM (4n1mT)

24 Top Ten Signs You're Suffering From Burnout: 10. You're so tired you now answer the phone, "Hell". 9. Your friends call to ask how you've been, and you immediately scream, "Get off my back!" 8. Your garbage can IS your "in" box. 7. You wake up to discover your bed is on fire, but go back to sleep because you just don't care. 6. You have so much on your mind, you've forgotten how to pee. 5. Visions of the upcoming weekend help you make it through Monday. 4. You sleep more at work than at home. 3. You leave for a party and instinctively bring your briefcase. 2. Your Day-Timer exploded a week ago. 1. You think about how relaxing it would be if you were in jail right now.

Posted by: physics geek at February 02, 2005 04:25 AM (4n1mT)

25 Jim wrote: "Encourage your colleagues to join you in a little synchronized chair-dancing." What's SO FUNNY about that?! Huh? I actually did that. Once. Now you know why I work from home. I am considered a Bad Influence. I love you, H. I am concentrating really hard -- I hope you can feel my arms wrapping around you. I have no platitudes, only loving concern. And hugs. Lots and lots of hugs. Kisses to Angus. And make him kiss you twice from me.

Posted by: Margi at February 02, 2005 05:05 AM (zalxZ)

26 I love my jokes. Seriously. Your jokes? They honestly made me laugh. Thank you so, so much. Big Love from the H.

Posted by: Helen at February 02, 2005 06:38 AM (uFX1z)

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