Baby Fever

So, two good friends of mine had a kid over the weekend.

Well, the wife had the kid. The husband, he just stood around and smiled a lot.

It wasn't a surprise, this kid, I mean, I knew she was on her way. It's just weird to realize that nothing in the world can prepare you for the fact that these two people made a little person and then let the little person come out to play.

I was never that fond of little people.

Not that I hate babies or anything, but I just never really got along with them. They sort of just sit there and stare, and make smelly poops, and cry, and sort of disrupt all sense of life as you know it.

Over the last several years, just from the fact that friends my age are starting to have kids, paired with the fact that my boyfriend has a niece and five nephews {all who I adore}, I have gotten used to the idea that babies are a fact of life, and by golly, I might even like to have one someday.

I digress.

So I got the call today that these friends had this kid. And I was very happy for them. And figured that, when they got home from the hospital, and got settled in their home, like, in a week or two, I'd go over and visit and welcome the little monster to their family, along with a bunch of our other friends.

Except that, these people love me SO much, that they insisted that I stop by the hospital. Tonight.

I panicked. I hate hospitals. And the kid, she was only a day old. What was I going to say to her? She barely speaks English, for God's sake!

But I knew that the right thing to do was to pay a visit to the litttle newbie, and that I did.

I got to the hospital, and the first thing that struck me--after I got over the fact that the new mommy, freshly c-sectioned, was walking around, and even answered the door when I got there--was that the baby was so incredibly tiny, sitting in her daddy's arms. She didn't even look like an alien, like I imagined she would, but was cute as a button.

Once I stopped worrying that I was going to trip and fall and squish the little tyke, I started to relax. Another friend showed up, and it almost began to feel like a party.

Except for the fact that, I guess once a woman has a baby, her body is not her own anymore. You know--suddenly your boobs are not just for sexy time, they actually have a function. And it's ok to pull them out at a moment's notice, cuz the kid needs to eat.

So you're trying to just have a normal conversation and not pay attention to the fact that your friend is sitting there, with a tiny mouth attached to her tit. And you try to continue the normal conversation, and to not think it's inappropriate that your friend wants to talk about her nipple chafing, or her uteral contractions that she is still having. I mean, she's sitting there, literally half naked, chatting away like nothing...I don't know if I'm going to get used to this.

Me, when the time comes, am preserving these fun bags of mine. Yes indeed, I'm going the bottle route.