The Empress card and wanting it all

It all started on October 31, last year. All Hallows Eve, Halloween, Samhain, whatever you want to call it. It is historically the Celtic New Year, and the time to divine for the upcoming year. As an amateur Tarot reader, I always do a reading at this time. I wouldn't call myself amazingly gifted with the Tarot, but I have had readings of uncanny accuracy, and Samhain has proven to be a particularly effective time for a reading. Last October 31st, what I got was a reading full of baby cards, at least, cards that could be interpreted that way; three of cups, nine of cups, princess of cups, the Sun, the Star, and in the outcome position of the Celtic cross spread, the Empress, symbol of feminine creation. I am an aspiring author, so convinced myself these cards indicated achievement in my creative endeavors—not a baby! Definitely not a baby! It isn't that I didn't like babies, babies are great—other people's babies. For short periods of time. While they're sleeping. It's more that I just never have been what you'd call maternal. My husband and I have been married for almost ten years, and have been—and are—perfectly content without a baby.
But something seemed to happen in my mind after that Tarot reading. I'd hear a crying baby in a restaurant, and wasn't so much annoyed by it as ... well, moved. Interested. Curious. Suddenly something I had never considered became something I desperately wanted. So that's where I am now—31 years old and for the first time wanting a baby. Oh I still want the career as a writer, most definitely I do. I guess I don't want anything more than a lot of women want. I want it all. This blog is my attempt to figure out how the hell that happened and what the fuck to do about it.