Baby showers make my knees sweat.
It started about five years ago.
I used to adore them. I can still remember the first one I ever attended as a little girl with my mother in Tennessee. Women in beautiful dresses. Tiny sandwiches. Pink watermelon balls. Refreshing beverages.Beautiful ribbons and bows. Itty bitty bits of baby delights.
And then I grew up and graduated college. Time passed and my friends started having babies. One. Then two. Some four. First day of kindergarten pics turned into junior high. And more time passed. So I made new friends. Younger friends.
And now my news feed is filled with ultrasounds, baby bumps and adorable announcements like this one.
How adorable is that?
And I love it. I’m so excited to meet these little people.
I mean, how can you not love these faces??
I mean seriously. Bring on the babies!!
I LOVE being an Aunty.
But if I’m honest. Baby showers strike a chord deep within me that makes my womb ache.
It’s different from wedding showers. Wedding showers fill me with HOPE. Every new love story I hear reminds me that anything is possible and that Mr. Right could step off the plane tomorrow. (I live on an island)
Baby showers are trickier for me. Sitting there, trying to balance my refreshing beverage and plate of tiny sandwiches, I feel like a fraud. An imposter. It feels like I have nothing to bring to the party. Literally and figuratively. Your life is about to change in ways I will never understand. And I get that. I just don’t know how to fully relate to it.
I tend to leave these festive events feeling overwhelmed by how far behind I am compared to everyone else. With no hope in sight. Time is ticking and the clock might have run out. So when everyone starts doling out advice and telling their funny little stories, I will sit there and begin to do math. If I meet someone tomorrow and we date for two years…and then wait two years…and it all spirals downhill from there.
I mean, I was the girl who started dreaming of marriage and children straight out of the womb. Life didn’t quite go as planned. And as I told my dad after he read Pushing Through the Lonelies (he was worried about his little girl), 87% of the time, I love my life.
But baby showers touch that part of my soul that is raw and disappointed. And I don’t want to bring that to your party. You deserve to be with women who can celebrate with you, wholeheartedly. And most days I can.
Here’s the crazy part. Please don’t stop inviting me. Because I want to come. And when I RSVP yes on your adorable invitation, I have dreams of women in beautiful dresses. Tiny sandwiches. Pink watermelon balls. Refreshing beverages.Beautiful ribbons. Itty bitty bits of baby delights.
It’s just if by chance I “get sick” or “something” comes up, please know that I love you very much and honestly couldn’t be more excited for you. It’s just, I’m having a little trouble being happy for me. And as lame as that is…it’s the truth.
So please forgive me…
And I’ll make it up to you in free babysitting….
Once they’re a toddler. (and I can no longer accidentally break them)
Love, Love, Love
The Girl Who Lives in My Head