Or at least I thought I was going to. I've been to hell enough times to know where that station is on the line. For the most part, I avoid hell by taking alternate routes. On this occasion such a tactic was not an option.
By hell, I am obviously referring to a Baby Shower.
Last Saturday one of my friends was having her baby shower. And this friend, who I will refer to as Rachel. I read somewhere that this name means beautiful. This is completely appropriate because 'Rachel' is a beautiful woman inside and out.
I really like Rachel. And I am genuinely excited for her that she is expecting her first child. Her trajectory of milestones in life has been, as one of our other friends recently put it, very white picket fence. She married her long time boyfriend and love of her life, traveled overseas and is now pregnant with their first child, thereby completing the steps in turning a once young and carefree couple into a traditional family.
(I personally feel that you can be a family without introducing a child into the mix, but that is a different thought for another day).
Rachel really wanted a baby. At my hens days we had a lengthy D&M about it. So I was obviously very happy for her when her pregnancy was announced. I know some girls who hate children, never want children and do not like being around children, who can not simultaneously hold these two seemingly opposing states: being happy for people who want children yet having zero desire for your own.
I sometimes struggle with why people want a child (or several) but I have never found it difficult to be happy for your friend. To me it is no different to when your friend lands their dream job, something you could never see yourself doing or being happy in. But you are truly happy for them, because, well, dah, it's their dream and their life.
Granted, when people announce news to me, my first thought is usually "Are you moving?" or "Do you have a new job?" or "Are you seeing someone new?". Much like this video here. I'm now at an age where I suppress this response and force out "Are you pregnant?" because these days, 80% of the time that is the forthcoming proclamation.
And 80% of the time when I mention I have news people assume pregnancy, even people who know me well. Tis the season of life I guess.
And while my lack of enthusiasm to be pregnant myself prevails, when it is a friend of mine I genuinely do feel different. If I am being honest, this is a fairly new phenomenon in myself. Definitely as a teenager and at least up until my mid-20s, when my older cousins were falling pregnant at what seemed like an impossible rate, and before my friend groups had started multiplying, I was not capable of being overly happy for pregnant people. How could you do life when you have such responsibilities?
But when one of my high school friends fell pregnant when we were in our late 20s, I think it redefined my perspective. I will refer to this friend as Amity because I read that it means friendship. And Amity is really good at friendship. When Amity told me that she was pregnant, a situation that had been planned for, I was very surprised at my reaction. It was the first time I had gotten emotional about a pregnancy announcement. I'd like to pass it off as being teary, but Amity will probably tell you that I cried. Don't believe her.
So the point of all that back story is that I can and I am willing to be happy for my friends when they choose babies. I don't fully understand the motivation for it, but I do understand the emotional aspect of it. And I am happy to be a part of it.
What I am not happy to be a part of, is a baby shower.
Whenever I am invited to a baby shower I am immediately annoyed that I am not a boy. This quickly progresses to annoyance that just because I have a uterus and ovaries, I am expected to attend such an event in spite of not being a clucky person. Men do not have to deal with this. I guess the flip side to that is that males who would love to attend a shower are not usually invited or might be made to feel out of place, but again another thought for a different day. Any willing man can take my place any day.
Of the few baby showers I have been obliged to attend, mostly of family members when I was younger and unable to opt out, I have enjoyed none. You're in a room full of people, most of whom you probably do not know. You're expected to immediately chatter away like you have known each other your entire life. You have to play horrible games.
I can't actually remember whose shower it was when I was forced to sniff a nappy that had a melted chocolate bar in it, and guess what chocolate it was. Thanks for putting me off snickers for eternity.
Not really. It would take a lot more than that to put me off chocolate, but still - gross!
But worst of all, you're expected to love babies. Not to like them. Certainly not to tolerate them. To LOVE them. Don't mention to anyone that you are past your 20s and childless if you don't want a lecture - from a generation of women who thought little of any other path in life than raising a family - about how your biological bomb clock is tick tick tocking its way to blowing in your face. Yes, this happened to me on Saturday. And I wasn't even talking to the woman who interjected into the conversation specifically to warn me about this.
The worst part is, her condescending expression and grave foreshadowing of my shrivelled, lifeless ovums in a short few years to come actually did weigh on my mind later that evening and all through the week that followed. I mean, yes fertility does start to drop off after 30. And it would be a horrible situation to get to 36 and realise you do want a family only to find out that you commissioned that ship and set it to sail years before. But you still have to become a doctor and start working in your chosen field - and there is always IVF. No need to worry! Oh but do worry, because age isn't your only problem and you should take this more seriously. You have a friend who is a fertility expert, you know better than to be so complacent.
Thanks anonymous person for making my stay in hell all the better. High fives!
Having to pretend you like children because most of the women around you do is tedious and tiring. You can't really connect with other women in this situation if you are expected to pretend to be something you aren't.
Saturday morning I sat opposite my husband at the dining table, eating breakfast and lamenting at him that I was in for a horrible day. I really hate baby showers.
I am just not a clucky person.
When other people look at pregnant women and see beauty, I just think 'Holy moly, that looks uncomfortable'.
When I see people touching a pregnant woman's belly I think 'If people touched me like that I would do this to them (I am the cat in this hypothetical):
When I am in a park and I hear children screaming with joy and just being normal kids I think, 'This park would be wonderful if there were not so many noisy children'.
But the other 99% of the time, when someone forces a baby into my unsuspecting arms uninvited, I feel a lot like Spongebob; confused, panicky and out of my depth.
I'm sorry, what is it I am supposed to be doing/feeling/wanting from this? Blank stares and awkwardness invariably ensue. I have no natural affinity for holding babies. And I do not need to be made social guilty about it. I have other issues to contend with.
I really don't want sick on my new dress so please kindly take your baby back thank you. You might think it is rude of me to not want to hold someone's brand new bundle of life that they are celebrating. But I think it is equally rude to compel someone to hold it. Sorry, him or her.
I mean, when I was a kid I used to try to make everyone hold my cats. Yes, I have sadly always been obsessed with cats, and animals in general, in place of babies. Anyway, my parents were constantly telling me off for it, because it was considered rude. As an adult I can now see that indeed it was bad manners. Please explain to me how doing it with a baby is any different?
Anyway, my ever patient husband listened silently as I ranted on and on. He always does. Eventually he calmly asked me if I was going or not going.
"I am obviously going, it is Rachel's shower", I replied shortly. Unnecessarily shortly. Sometimes I am rude without intending it. This was one of those occasions.
"Then let it go, and go be a good friend to your good friend".
I conceded. He had summarised the situation perfectly. Honestly, I was being a cranky sook with a bad attitude.
It was not about me. It was not about why I hate showers, or my loathing of constantly being asked about children now that I am married, nor did it have anything to do with the showers I have attended previously.
This day was about Rachel and celebrating a massive milestone, a dream realised, and the start of a new life.
I said no more on the subject and mentally prepared myself for having a good time.
My friend Beatrix (I read that this name means 'she who makes one happy' and I find this totally appropriate for 'Beatrix') and I arrived in hell and fortuitously managed to sit at the table that was occupied predominantly by young, childless women. So far, so good.
There were games. But no one asked me to sniff a baby nappy with pretend poo in it.
The party looked like my wedding: buntings, burlap, jars to drink out of, lollie buffets and pretty cake stands. I shouldn't have expected anything less really. Having been to Rachel's engagement party and wedding, I know she knows how to throw and decorate an event. It felt more like a fancy high tea than a baby shower.
Of course, conversation did get onto who does and doesn't have children, who wants them and who doesn't. I am starting to think at my age that I just have to come to terms with the fact that people will ask you. And when you say 'I am 99% sure I do not want them' some people will high five you and others will flash you a puzzled look or label you as an uncaring, self-centered, money chasing career woman. Sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches. I mean, what difference does it actually make to my life if people assume that?
I have to admit, there was a moment when I was in the nursery, that I did get ever so slightly emotional. I blame it on being an emotional person anyway. And that is the story I am sticking to.
Rachel's nursery looked nothing like what my imagination conjures up at the mention of the word 'nursery' and everything like what I would design a very small child's room to look like. Think a lovely pale brown wall, pastel colour scheme, white furniture, tasteful wall art and possibly the most comfy looking recliner/rocking chair I have ever seen.
So I survived a short trip to hell and back. I'd like to say I came out completely unscathed and unaffected, but unfortunately that isn't the case. But I will talk about that next week.
What I can say is that I had a lovely afternoon, I ate more cake than I intended, I very much enjoyed my three glasses of sparkling white wine and I had some great non-baby related conversation with some of Rachel's other friends who are also very nice.
Rachel's baby shower is the only baby shower I have enjoyed. I can't say if it was because I totally adore Rachel as a person, because Rachel throws amazing parties, or because I pulled my socks up and stopped being a spoiled brat about the whole thing.
Rachel's baby shower is the only baby shower I have enjoyed. I can't say if it was because I totally adore Rachel as a person, because Rachel throws amazing parties, or because I pulled my socks up and stopped being a spoiled brat about the whole thing.
TL:DR - Next time you have to go to the baby shower of one of your friends, and you really do not want to, just stop and remember that it isn't about you. Be a good friend - you'll probably have a good time in spite of yourself. So long as no one brings out a diaper filled with chocolate poo...
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