Baby proofed - or so I thought!

(words of warning: get ready for a long, rambling post minus any editing of any sort - this was written in between two morning meetings without any coffee!)
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I’ve always been a fence sitter when it came to the topic of babies. I think that they can be incredibly adorable, wonderfully entertaining and such a joy in so many ways. Often to other people.

Because I’m a realist. I realize that I’ve also derived that same type of pleasure from many of my extra curricular activities – shopping, reading, hanging out with my friends, growing my career, nurturing my writing….i’m sure you catch the drift. I’ve never looked at a baby and thought to myself: Now, I’d like to take you home honey.

And in the past, when I have cooed those words to a newborn – it was born out of a feeling of obligation to fawn over someone’s “mini me”. Rather than a real indication of being baby ready or baby-friendly for that matter.

Meeting a newborn, in the past, was always quite the event for me. Sorta in the same vein as job interviews or awkward gatherings. I automatically fear the worst: what if this baby isn’t all that attractive?!?!

Now, I know – it seems silly and nobody with a child would ever agree with what I’m about to say but….. Not all kids are attractive as they bust out of the gates.

And that’s where it gets sticky. I’ve had “meh” looking kids thrust at me by friendly co-workers and acquaintances forcing me to fall back on my good ole faithful tactic of finding something nice to say: I love her booties or Aww, that’s a cute clip or the best, yellow is such a lovely colour on her…I mean him.

Pathetic much? Maybe. But heck, nobody wants to hear that somebody, ANYBODY, thinks their baby isn’t the type of stuff that America’s Next Top Model is made of. I was raised on a diet of "if you can't say something nice, make up something FAST"

Until I had a baby infiltrate my inner circle that is.

T, one of my oldest girlfriends and a habit that I can’t seem to shake, had her first one. I stayed away from her all through her pregnancy, creeped out by this phenomenon. I could barely commit to a hair colour let alone a baby – and that put her in a league of her own. That was five years ago – when I had just met Mikey and was starting to become okay with the idea of committing to one person.

Then I met her. That squishie exquisite smelling bundle we call Rakshaa. She is Ah.Mazing. In all the ways, that I never thought would matter.

I fell hopelessly in love with her chortle, her cheeks, her cheeky lil’ laugh, her chubby lil arms....*sigh*…and when she started saying my name – I could have sworn my heart sang. That girl, broke me down. These days, I’m a baby-loving but still largely, “baby proofed” version of my former self. I’m more comfortable with having kids crawl over me, around me, spit up on me, wreck my prized possessions, take a poo on me, throw up on me….you name it – I’ve endured it. So please, you can take me off the “national baby hater” list that I might have inadvertently gotten myself onto.

Before I met Mikes, I took pride in the knowledge that I wasn’t that into babies. It took a lot of explaining to all the wrong people who had one too many questions. It ranked up there with my: I don't believe in marriage and committing to one of anything - stance.

I liked babies just fine – but I always felt like my life would be full regardless of whether I had a little one pittering and pattering all over my Marc Jacobs or NOT (preferably option 2, thanks). I had other things in my life that I placed in high priority – my family, my friends,my career (that I love), traveling, impromptu events and excursions, the freedom of having a fun lifestyle - unencumbered by baby bags, strollers and the such. A life filled with individual passions, actualized.

Then I met Mikey.

Now Mikey, is one of those rare individuals (that I seem to meet more and more of as of late – a cultural shift perhaps?) who seem to have been born to be a parent. He’s just comfortable around kids and really relates to them in a visceral way. And has always known that he wanted his own.

Before we got married we had the big “b” talk. I agreed that while I didn’t necessarily need a child – I wouldn’t be averse to having one – at some point down the road. A year, five, ten…whose counting! So we got hitched with the knowledge that babies might make an appearance in our coupledom but they certainly weren’t an expectation.

When we got hitched, all our friends were also getting hitched. It was two years of 12 weddings a season – lots of dressing up, manning up and having a great time at one party or another. It was the remake of 27 dresses – aptly named 27 sari’s. But then something happened.

Our group of late twenty somethings who had vehemently held out against early marriages and the such – transformed. Our nights of debauchery have now turned into nights of discussing organic diapers, the role of a soother, the various degrees of spit up, sign language as a way of communicating with a new born etc. In the last two years, we’ve seen a flurry of baby making. Almost everyone I know, in their late twenties and early thirties just had one, is having one, is trying for one or praying every night for the miracle to happen – or some crazy combination of the above mentioned factors.

Gone are the times when they’d cross their fingers and hope it was just a scare! Gone are the days when they’d wait for their period as an indicator that nothing is baking in their ovens. The singular lines of focused prayer that would be chanted begging the powers that be – that next time they would be more careful had disappeared. Now they’ve been replaced with a flurry of disappointed phone calls when the bloody thing shows up – literally!

Mikes and I have been uninvolved in this chaotic hurricane – we’ve somehow managed to stay largely unaffected by the frenzy of shagging with an ulterior motive. Or so I thought.

Afterall we had some major issues to contend with - first.

Everyone who knows me knows that I’m too sweet. Having a baby with uncontrolled diabetes – is not a recommended plan of action. So in the hopes of getting baby ready – I hopped off the “it’s all about me – all the time” bandwagon and started taking those darn insulin shots. Which is good – because at thirty one, apparently my window of opportunity for a healthy and pain-free pregnancy is small and rapidly shrinking.

Mikes and I agreed that we’d start trying (and by that I mean, stop using contraceptives not setting up baby calendars and temperature checks) in June of this year. We figure, it’s apt – 2 years of coupledom have helped us create what is now a much more solid relationship. This April, we turn 6 - which is a pretty good run of great times.

Now, this agreement happened with Jana – still being on the fence about a needing a child to find ultimate fulfillment. We’ve talked about adoption and we know that if we have a little person – we’d definitely want more than one. Which is a concern with my saccharine sweet ailment. So adoption might play a role in our lives as well.

But something happened yesterday.

Yesterday, my very pregger sister in law, was complaining about the cost of having a child – financially, physically, emotionally etc. And she and my mother in law, were discussing all things baby related. And that’s when it happened. That’s when I felt it. My heart inhaled mid sentence and firmly lodged the thought of babies, rompers, cribs and such somewhere on my radar.

I’ve never felt that chord struck, quite so intensely before. For the first time, I had a familiar thought about a completely unfamiliar item.

“I wish I could have that too”. “I wish it were me”.

WHAT?!!?!? I know. I’ve said that about a gazillion things before – all material, all tangible, all envy inducing. But a baby?!?!? For the first time EVER, I felt like I was ready to maybe seriously consider adding a third person to our marriage.

And yes, I am that childish.

I know that there have been tons of moments where I’ve relished being Mikey’s best love. And I know that babies would change that completely. I’ve been told you end up loving them in ways that you didn’t even realize you could. And a small part of me fears that. It unnerves me, this thought of adding a third person into our marriage. An unpredictable character – who can be a pleasure or a nightmare or both. A factor that we won’t be able to control – and one that will change our relationship forever. Hopefully for the better - but I've heard stories from both camps. And chances, are not to be taken.

I firmly believe in having a rock solid boat before inviting strangers onboard. I always thought that I would be happy being “aunty jana” and just that – just aunty. And you know what, I still would be – because who knows, what other complications might exist. But I woke up this morning with a strong need for a verbal throw up session and it was coincidental that a fellow flogette, felt the same way. Mind you, her's was much more succint.

For the first time, I wanted a baby. And that is such a heady realization. It kinda feels like the first moment when I realized I loved mikey – ages before I got the bling that promised other things.


So I know – that when it happens – I will be thrilled. And I know, that even if it doesn’t – the journey and the progress is not so much in having a baby per say – but finally arriving at the destination my husband has been in for at least two years, if not more. It’s nice to finally feel like we are on the same page. And it’s knowing – that if and when it happens – I’ll be ready to embrace the next phase and turn that next page with excitement – as opposed to impending doom.

I plan on having it all. I plan on doing all the things I do now with just an extra addition. I know it will probably be a little more work - but I refuse to think that my life has to stop and alter for that third factor to be integrated. I'm sure some things will alter themselves - we'll find better and easier ways of doing others - but the spirit of our relationship will not change. (she said, pre-baby and pre-spittle cloths)

But heck, until then, I plan on working to keep my blood sugar just right and taking every opportunity I can to continue having as much fun as possible. Because when it happens, it will happen only because we want it to.

And not because, I feel like the slow kid who is constantly a few steps behind the rest of the pack – because I know that’s just silly talk! But a little part of my brain, is still there. left behind - questioning why it always takes her much longer to catch up to the rest of the crew when it comes to matters of the heart.