Tick Tock, My Clock Goes...Uuugh

I wish my biological clock was a tangible, and external item I could pick up off the nightstand, throw against the wall, and break. I wish it would shut up when I wanted to sleep, and I wish I could buy a new one when I was ready (which could be/would be never). Until recently (seven months ago) I was unaware this 'biological clock' thing was real. I thought it was just a cheeky thing people said about women who wanted babies.

Mine started going during the summer of 2010 when I ran into a friend of a friend and his baby on Bushwick Avenue. I knew he'd had a baby. What I didn't know was how cute and delightful the child was. And he was just right sized too (six months, a lot less squirmy and breakable than a newborn) so I was totally like "Yeah, lemme hold him." Ugh. I can still remember the feeling. The child was so warm, he felt so nice against my chest, in my arms. I was completely enraptured by his big eyes, and toothless shiny smile. After about three minutes the lights went back on in my brain and I handed him back over. I remember telling my roommate, as we walked back home, that that felt scary. I actually liked holding the thing. TERRIBLE.

Last autumn when I was working as a hostess at Applebees I was repeatedly mesmerized by every itty bitty pint-sized human life form that came through the door. What a disaster! It wasn't until I mentioned to my BFF, Edmond, my overwhelming and repeating compulsion to pick each one up that I learned the clock is a real thing. I don't know what to do. I mean, if it's biology there could be a pill or something to take that would turn it off right? Is it birth control? Because when I saw my friend's baby that day I was on the pill. So would I need a higher dosage to stifle the baby love? Do I just wait this out? Will I be over it by 31? Because I don't think I can endure an additional decade of baby-urge.

In my mind I'm almost positive I don't want children. At least not on this planet, in this dimension, or before some full-scale, massive human evolution... So how do I stop my body from wanting them? How do I stop random baby-esque thought bubbles - like how much fun it'd be to color the walls and finger paint the floors and furniture with a semi-coherent-thought-forming mumbling baby creature - from creeping into my stream? Why is science working against reason and trying to fuck with me? I honestly fear there's nothing I can do, aside from going into exile or something. Uuuurgh.