Every once in awhile, when I have friends over, they take to looking over my bookcases. I've got plenty of reading material, and is fairly organized, which is surprising because everything else in my life is so random and scattered. I don't know why, but of the thousands of books that I own, the book entitled 1000 Names For Baby is the one most remarked upon. I've had the very pointed questions trying to find out if there's something in the oven, and semi-crowing of being over-nastalgic, but anyone who could see the pattern behind my bookcases would understand that, if a book like that is surrounded by others like The Elements of Style, Strunk, William, or the latest copy of the Writer's Market, that it's actually quite useful for someone who writes often.
It's funny, (but so NOT funny) when someone says decisively that my own babymaking days are over. I'm not talking about my mother, either. (Although it made me laugh when she said to me one day "Nicky, everytime either you or your sister complain about your period, I think THANK GOD!") I'm serious, though. I've had co-workers, friends of my parents, and certain relatives say in one way or another, "Oh, your daughter's grown so much, it's too bad you can't have another."
I point out that I'm still ovulating, therefore, there is still that possibility and that's when eyes widen. At this point, the discussion inevitably turns to finances, lack of a husband or potential husband, and my responsibility as an adult. First off, it's nobody's business but my own, if I decide I want another child. Having a partner doesn't seem to be necessary either, by experience. The most important reason why I would not have another one, is finances. It's a bitch being poor and trying to raise a child, but it can be done. So far, my girl has never gone without the basic necessities, and will never have to, either. I guess what ticks me off the most is hearing other people wanting to make decisions for me. Or automatically assuming that their moral code reigns supreme.
These days, the only reason why I pick up the book is to come up with a decent character name. But, on other days, I just love the name Lucy and can picture another dark-haired little girl running towards me.