It's Overrated

Babies.

Such a daunting word. An even more intense experience. Don’t get me wrong. I love kids. Always have. That’s why I work with them for a living. But to make that leap to actually committing to have some of your own is a big step.

It’s not like determining which Starbucks coffee to get or deciding what hair style and color I’m going to try out next.

Neither of which I don’t take lightly mind you. Every time I’m at Starbucks I have to think about what I want: hot or cold. Sugary or coffeey. Tall or Venti. Same with the hair salon. Brown or blonde. (red was nixed a while ago by the husband) Bangs or no. Trim or cut. (The irony of it all is I always end up getting the same thing. Venti skinny vanilla latte and brown with dark blonde highlights, trim as little as possible, long layers.) But I’m off topic.

Babies on the other hand is HUGE. Like I am going to get bored of my child within 24 hours because it’s one of those fad things, like beanie babies? Or can we even afford a kid? (Do I want to afford a kid?)

It sounds bad I know. Ever since the husband and I got engaged the first question was when is the wedding and the second was when is the baby due. People, give me a break!

So for a good year a half now, people have been bombarding me with baby questions. Especially since the husband and I are apparently at that age where baby making is at its best. It seems like everywhere we turn somebody is trying to get pregnant, is pregnant, or has had a baby recently. All our friends and family have been sucked into the conspiracy that now is the time to make a happy little family. gag me now.

So babies has been on the brain because everyone else is suffocating me with babies this and pregnancy that.

It was even more apparent when the husband and I were at the mall recently. Everywhere we turned there was a pregnant woman. The lady who helped us pick out a jacket for my mom? Pregnant. The woman trying to find me bronze shoes for a wedding? Pregnant. It got so bad that the husband actually told me to hold my breath while we passed pregnant ladies because we didn’t want me catching ‘the disease’. Like swine flu. Like somehow getting pregnant involves air borne pathogens. (Imagine how disgusting it would be for teeny tiny sperm to be floating through the air being sucked in through your nasal passage down into your lady parts.) Yes, this is how much babies freak me out.

It got even worst. For a week straight I had pregnancy dreams. I don’t remember the whole of the dreams, but in every single one I was pregnant and the husband either had no clue or was off dying somewhere because what in the hell were we thinking, having kids?!?! As it turns out, the husband’s sister is pregnant. When I found this out the dreams stopped. Thank god.

It’s gotten so bad that every month I swear I must be pregnant. I randomly forget to take one pill right at 7:00 and my whole world comes crashing down and I’m all scared of what might be forming inside of me. This past month I started eating like a cow. No matter how normal this behavior is right before I go on my period I was convinced that I was pregnant. The husband likes to toy with my head too. His actual text conversation with his sister went like this:

Sister: Ask your wife if she’s had any dreams about what I’m having (boy or girl)

Husband: She said no more dreams but she’s eating like a pig… what the hell does that mean?

Sister: That you don’t feed her enough… or she is pregnant!

Husband: Or it’s that happy, refreshing, soothing so you can rest time of the month where I can go worry free that no one threw water on her like a gremlin!

(FYI the husband is referring to the old 80's movie Gremlins. In the movie, if water is dumped on the gremlin he spawns into a million different gremlins. His worry is that I will spawn a million little gremlin-esk babies.)

Sister: haha, oh yea, that too.

No joke this is his actual conversation. (I looked up his texts in his phone.)

I would really love for the baby questions to cease and my life to go back to being all about me… and the husband I guess.


If I ever do this I give you permission to shoot me.