Chocolate Chip Baby

For the last few months, I have been craving chocolate desperately. The truth is, even before the last few months, I always wanted chocolate. I am a chocolate connoisseur. The other day, flipping through a magazine, I discovered a list of all the haute couture chocolates that one should scour the world for. I was both a little proud and a little shocked to find I had tried them all. Repeatedly. From Vouges in the Soho to Neuhaus in Brussels. So, when I say I am desperately craving chocolate, I mean an obsession gone haywire. I mean, I started to contemplate eating Hershey's at the grocery store or when filling up my car with gas. I didn't often cave in to these thoughts, but I felt like I was fighting a losing battle.

And my obsession was starting to get even weirder. I started to feel like even if I gave in and ate all the chocolate in the world, there would never be enough, so I might as well not bother. The times when I would cave in and eat something sweet, I was completely ashamed. The day I knew I had gone over the edge was the day I stopped for coffee and got a chocolate muffin and then crammed the enormous muffin in my 5 X 8 square purse and zipped it shut in order to smuggle it in to my office. As though someone there would say, or even think, "My god, what are you doing! How could you eat a chocolate muffin?" That's right, I am admitting to insanity, on the internet no less.

The next day brought an epiphany via a conversation. I realized that the same time my chocolate obsession went haywire, I had started wanting something I never wanted before: a baby. That's right. And how do I feel about wanting a baby? The truth is I am horrified. I feel like wanting a baby is a deep, dark secret. Something that is completely out of my reach right now, so my desire will never be satisfied. Not only that, I am ashamed of wanting babies. Having told a few friends about this, I found the usual response is "Eh, come again? You are ashamed of wanting a baby?"

I didn't realize this was not a common emotion to associate with wanting children. But I am ashamed. I feel that wanting a baby is somehow anti-feminist. Or degrading in some way. Like I am in danger of giving in to purely animalistic, biological drives, my enlarged frontal lobe be damned. Or that I am being horribly selfish to even think of bringing a child into this over-populated world and inflict on him or her all my own neuroses. I thought that kids were something that I could give or take. I was more focused on finding a partner and willing to have kids or not, depending on what made sense for the relationship.

I have been smuggling these dark wishes around for the last few months. And somehow, in trying to ignore these thoughts, I ended up craving chocolate, knowing that it wouldn't satisfy me, and being terribly ashamed of the craving. It's been nearly two weeks since this realization. The intense craving for chocolate has gone away and I am coming to terms with the fact that a child isn't the worst thing in the world to wish for. And that wanting something doesn't mean it has to drive my behavior or push me somewhere I don't want to be. I tell myself that I can pull an Angelina Jolie and adopt children as a single mom. Or that I can put all the excess maternal energy into volunteering with pet therapy animals, or seeing-eye dogs, or for people in a variety of situations. I haven't convinced myself yet, but I think it will.

"Tell me what it feels like," Abbie asked me. "What does a 'baby craving' feel like?" Abbie's worst fear is that she will experience her first baby craving at the age of 50 and everyone in her immediate environment will crowd around her in a circle and point at her and tell her, "See, we told you you would regret your terrible, selfish decision to never have children." I tell her she is nuts and the chances of this happening are close to nil. And if they do, she'll handle it when it happens.

"It's probably like the way you want a dog," I said. Abbie has wanted a dog for approximately forever and her agreement with her non-pet-loving husband is that she can have one when she turns 30. She's been deciding on what kind of dog to get for years already.

"You mean, when you see one on tv, you think, 'Oh! I want one of those! Why can't I have one of those! I need to love and cuddle something like that. That's how I feel whenever I see a puppy."

"Yeah, kind of like that."

"Phew. Yeah, I definitely don't feel like that about babies. Puppies, yes. Babies, no."

"Glad you're relieved," I tell her, sarcasm dripping from my voice. But the truth is, I am a bit relieved too. Relieved that I no longer feel like that about Hershey's kisses.