Going home made me realize something. I am not ready to be a mother. I mean I already knew that because every time someone tells me she's pregnant, I get this deer in the headlights look and ask, "Are you scared?" It's really quite pathetic. I mean I'm just four months shy of my 25th birthday and the thought of carrying a child, eventually having it leave my body and being responsible for him or her for the next 21 years (they will be going to college and who is really self-sufficient in college? They are few and far between)... Frankly, the thought makes me a bit ill.
One of my friends from middle school had a baby in December. I was so excited when I found out she was pregnant that I wanted to immediately rush home. But I couldn't (no vacation), so I was forced to wait until after she had the baby. Finally in March, I was able to go home. I got home Wednesday night and made plans to get together with M, spend the day together on Thursday and finally meet Tristan. Kyle asked me, "Is this going to make you want a baby?" I said, "Of course!" What else will I say when you ask me such an insane question? He said, "I knew it." Hahahaha. I mean truly, I don't know.
I've been around babies before, of course, but not a lot. On both sides my cousins are around my age, no babies really. My sister and I are in the youngest bunch on my dad's side. I have some second cousins my age and older. On my mom's side, most of my cousins live in Mississippi and are about my age, but even if they weren't we wouldn't see them enough for me to spend a significant amount of time around babies. I don't have any friends who had babies as teenagers. Of course babies were in and out of my periphery, but I've never even changed a diaper. I hold them for a few minutes, then hand them back, especially if they start crying, and go gossip.
Thursday, M pulls Tristan out of the car seat and my first reaction was joy. He is a beautiful baby. All 3-month-old fat, chubby cheeks, sweet little cherub. He held onto me, let me hold him and just looked up into my face, blinking in the warm March southern sun (shout out to the sun, light winds, 75+ degree days, flowers, green grass, I hope to see you again soon). So adorable! I felt flooded with love, then instantly confused because I mean, this isn't even my child. But he's the child of one of my closest friends and our first baby in the group I've known since I was 13. I love his mom so I guess the love just transferred. I take a closer look at M and she's glowing. Motherhood really suits her.
We spend the day at the mall shopping and talking after our pedicures. This is one of the best babies. He doesn't cry or fuss, if the car moves, he's knocked out. I'm not crazy. I know babies sleep a lot and have good days but I really like this one!
Then it starts.
The strangers. I am not at this point in my life equipped to deal with dozens of people a day peering into my stroller to comment on the appearance of my child. "Oh he's so cute!" Of course he is, you see his mother. I mean come on! Is it not obvious? How could he be anything but? The best, though? The grown black man who walks up, bends slightly at the waist, and bellows, "Look at that juicy baby!" Juicy? Juicy?!! Huh uh. I had to walk away. Once we reunited, I said, "Tristan, how do you feel about being called juicy?" M says, "What do I look like lettin another man call me juicy?" LMAO!!!! That's why this is my girl.
I asked her, "How do you deal with all the strangers?" She says her pregnancy helped because people like to say and ask some normal, but mostly bizarre and probing questions. Things like, "Is the father still around?" "Will you breast feed?" "Are you having twins? You're huge!" (Have you seen that commercial? It cracks me up). But I've still determined I am not anywhere near ready to be with child. For now, I'll take "Empty Womb, Please, Alex for 2000." Thanks.