Baby Talk

Last week, I braved it out in the snow to meet up with the center of our gathering, a long lost friend from St. John, en route to Maine. Joining her were four other gals that if I do get a chance to see on a fairly regular basis, it is certainly never in one spot at the same time.

Once orders of lettuce wraps and glasses of Estancia or water were placed, the catching up began. From the overall "how have you been?" to the more specific "what's your next step?" -- the question and answer session bounced evenly back and forth between all parties in the booth.

When the subject of one lovely friend's pregnancy arose, all attention turned towards the wonder and fear and anticipation of childbirth. Another friend, who had just given birth to her second child less than a month ago, offered her latest birthing room experience. Words like collicky and miracle blanket and nipple (no link necessary!) were tossed around in the same place where hot date and black out and, well, nipple used to hold court.

Now, I have nothing against babies and I actually love it when I see a woman, particularly a good friend, go through the pregnancy journey, but I realized this was the first time (ever?) that I was literally the odd woman out. Usually I'm around other singletons with the one or two coupled friends who are procreating.... or I at least have ONE other person who is sitting in the same childfree boat with me (with a cocktail in hand, of course). But tonight, it was the pregnant one, the one trying to get pregnant, the two who had one each, the one who just had two... and me. The most I could even offer to the story was "so you could really stop drinking for NINE months?"

Sometimes the philosophy, if you can't be 'em, join 'em, is appropriate. However, in the case of not hearing a real clock ticking just yet (or possibly ever?) and being silenced by baby talk, I think I'll just stick to enjoying the unrelatable yet interesting stories from below. And look forward to the day when they get fatter than me.