The Smell of a Newborn

Somebody stop the madness.

Seriously.

Come over here and remove my ovaries. My fallopian tubes. My uterus. Take it all.

Because, as if attending my friend's "Baby Sprinkle" today (it was baby number four and when asked if she could be thrown a shower, requested a sprinkle instead) and seeing all kinds of teensy weensy clothing wasn't bad enough, I just spent over an hour in the NICU, surrounded by a plethora of very tiny children, and now my hands smell like newborn.

And if all that wasn't enough to make my ovaries do a full on varsity cheer then I don't know what would. Read=that was plenty more than enough.

My friend's baby, Isaac, needs a little oxygen and a little antibiotic, is all. I got to hold him and pat him and rock him and, since he belongs to my friend, I decided not to kidnap him right out of the NICU. He probably comes equipped with baby low jack anyway. But oh my goodness the little tiny babies everywhere, the nurses in scrubs, the small bottles of formula, the how in the world is my baby going to be two in a couple of weeks?

My ovaries don't really work anyway but let's get them out of here, stat. They're causing all kinds of crazy heart palpitations right now. I'm even forgetting about the sleepless nights. They're just a fading memory, overpowered by the smell of fresh baby.

I have to go take a shower. Otherwise I'll be sitting here tomorrow, smelling my hands. It's ridiculously intoxicating...