It’s official … again: everyone in the world is pregnant but me.
Let me back up: I had a very surreal experience this morning. Darling Husband and I were just at the mall, picking up a baby shower gift for C‘s soon-to-arrive little one.
We hit the baby section of the department store, picked up what we wanted, and headed off to find a cash register. Then …
We were positively surrounded by approximately nine million pregnant women and their husbands.
ME: Oh my God. There are a million pregnant girls here.
DARLING HUSBAND: Yeah, well, it’s the baby section.
ME: No, we’re out of that section. This is just the kids’ section.
DARLING HUSBAND: Uh-huh.
ME: And they’re all with their husbands. That could be us in six months!
DARLING HUSBAND: Yup.
ME (hissing): There’s more! Over there — by the mens’ stuff!
We paid and headed back upstairs, walking through the ride-on lawn tractor section — for Darling Husband — and the doll aisle — for me. Then we made it to the linen section, where we saw another three pregnant women and their husbands.
ME: It’s official. I have never seen this many pregnant women in my life. The universe is trying to tell me something.
I’m Heather Laura Clarke. I’m a writer living in beautiful Nova Scotia, I have a 12-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter, I married my high school sweetheart, and this is the story of my handmade life.
I have depression and anxiety, and I fight like hell every day to keep them from taking over my life. Creating things helps.
Whether I’m writing novels, decorating a room, busting out my power tools to build furniture, getting muddy in the pottery studio, sewing clothes, or cross-stitching a swear word, I’m all about using my creativity to craft a life I love.
I’ve been writing this blog since 2009, so if you dig deep into the archives, you’ll meet a bright-eyed 25-year-old newlywed who was basically obsessed with having kids, buying a cozy house, and supporting herself full-time with her writing. (Spoiler alert: she got exactly what she wanted.)