Sunday I went to a baby shower. It sucked. Like really fucking sucked. I mean seriously, why don’t they serve hard liquor at these things? If by the grace of god I ever conceive, I’ll have vodka there for my friends silently struggling, cause I feel ya sista. I digress.
As I was sitting at my table watching my friend open carseats (I totally would have registered for the jogging stroller, I’ve done all my research), wipe warmers (doesn’t she know the wipes dry out? amateur), breast pumps (“what is this thing?” Seriously? and you get blessed with a baby?). Resentment
The clothes. The adorable handmade sweater from her grandma. The onesies that say “Mom’s BFF” “Daddy’s Princess” and “I woke up like this”. And the shoes, those adorable, tiny shoes. Baby uggs. Baby sperry’s. Toddler chuck T’s. As people ‘ooooh’ and ‘ahhhh’ I’m literally, physically fighting back tears. I have a closet at home cleared out and ready to be filled. I have clothes and shoes I’ve collected from garage sales over the years, for when we’d be ready. Because prior to marriage I thought all we would have to do is sneeze and we’d be pregnant, because that’s how it worked, right? But here I am, forced to smile at this fucking baby shower. It’s somewhat similar to being forced to go to your ex’s wedding AND smile about it, but don’t just smile, you have to thoroughly enjoy yourself. Just do it. Fuck that. I object. Heartbreak
Then the inevitable handmade quilt made by aunt Mary, or grandma Rose. My mother-in-law sews, she’s the one that gifts those quilts. I wonder if she hates me for not being able to give her a grandchild to quilt for. ‘If son would have married that nice girl from the church that never took birth control, didn’t drink and hadn’t been such a pothead in high school, I bet I’d have a grandchild.’ My mother-in-law would never say that out loud, but how could she not think it? Shame/Guilt
The shower finally ended and I headed home in the SUV that we bought over a year ago, so we would be prepared when kids came (obviously my trusty Civic wasn’t logical, and we wouldn’t want to be stuck with a new car payment and new baby at the same time! #responsible). Flip on the radio, ‘White Lie’ by the Lumineers blares through the speakers.
“If it’s all the same to you
Then it’s just a little white lie
Then it’s all the same to me
And it’s just a little white lie
If I was to blame would you?
Would you still believe?
I don’t want you to forget
Just pretend that it never happened
And it’s just a little white lie”
Tears. Dammit, no shutting off the water works now. I hit repeat, turn left when I should have turned right and get lost on some country roads. Right now I need a good cry. And then time to compose myself. I don’t want my husband to know how weak I am (again, the shame). I pull in the driveway, smile on my face, greet my pup and greet my husband go inside and take a nap. I have no energy.
Later that evening, while applying my face mask (friends say, omg! you’re so lucky that you can afford that, because once you have kids you can’t <eye roll>), I tell my husband, ‘You know what? That shower really fucking sucked. I cried the whole way home.’
“Would it kill you to respond? I just fucking told you my day sucked, you made me go to that stupid shower with your friend’s annoying-as-fuck wives and all you can respond with is silence?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything, I mean does this even affect you?”
At this point he’s in the kitchen, “Does it affect me? Are you fucking kidding me? What do you want me to say? I’m your husband, I’m suppose to protect you, and this is a thing that I can’t fix. Do you want me to tell you that every time I see a couple with a young kid I can physically feel my heart breaking? That each time I get asked that fuck-ING question ‘When you gonna have kids’ I want to throat punch them? Is that what you want me to say?”
<I smile, feeling relieved to see his emotion>“Um, yea. That would help make me feel less crazy, because I feel all those things too.”
“It’s not that it doesn’t affect me, it’s that I’m choosing not to let it bring me down. Wallowing in it isn’t going to get you pregnant.”
Damn. He’s got a good point. I hate when he’s right. And his next sentence reminded me why I love this man-
“Fuck it. Next person to ask me that question, I’m just going to respond with ‘we can’t.’ Why are we protecting them to make sure they aren’t uncomfortable with us not being to have kids? We just end up carrying the shit by ourselves!”
And that’s when we had our epiphany – We are no longer going to silence it. We have nothing to be ashamed of. We have a love for each other that people pray for. For some reason, this is the roadtrip that God has chosen for us and we aren’t driving the car. So might as well buckle up and hold on. And now I just wrote my first blog post.