From today's People magazine online:
"Obviously I'm in a race to have another, but I don't want to do it while on tour," the singer, 37, tells InStyle for its September issue (on sale Friday). "But I can't wait to get pregnant again. It's so fun and consuming and romantic." -Gwen Stefani
Do you ever have one of those days where a headline like this smacks you right between the eyes because it is so foreign to your reality? I suppose I could grudgingly admit a commonality with the word "consuming" but somehow I don't think my definition would match hers. Not that I would wish infertility on anyone but I also don't know how to stop making my skin crawl when I read or hear revelations such as these. Maybe it smarts even more because once upon a time I was in the same proverbial boat. Didn't most of us expect that once the goalie was pulled (so to speak) that baby making would be one wildly entertaining roll in the hay and that pregnancy would be imminent? I'm clearly not really angry at Ms. Gwen but really at my own lost innocence. How did I get here? I hear of women who time their procreation to coincide correctly with summer vacations or existing siblings' birth dates or perhaps so that they aren't huge and swollen during the hottest months of summer. I marvel at the strings they are able to pull to control the very essence of human life. They can create human beings at will, these people. Do they walk around drunk on their own power? More likely than not, they never give it a second thought...just like Gwen here. I'm sure we all have something that someone else wishes they could have too, like thick hair or beautiful skin or a perfect soprano voice (OK not me personally on any of these counts) but command of earthly existence surely ranks a bit more highly than the ability to carry a tune. I'm all for counting my blessings, and I frequently do, but life and experience tell me that women who fall into Gwen's category don't give it a moment's thought. Oh how I wish they did.