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Guest Post: Baby Fish Mouth

3/12/2014

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Disaster Sisters are proud to post their first guest post! And it just happens to be by a Disaster Sister sister...certainly a Disaster Sister in her own right. Meredith is a social worker in Texas and has something to tell y'all. Please to enjoy!
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I'm McLovin the new blog and thought I could suggest a topic that my sisters would appreciate. They quickly told me to do it myself, so here goes:  

I’m not a mom...yet. I’m an aunt and proud of it!  I’m obsessed with those kids: the chubby cheeks, arms, dimpled little fingers, but I digress. I want to be a mom, and soon. 

I went to a one-year-old’s birthday party last week. There was a lot of finagling to get my introverted husband to go. I pointed out that his name was on the invitation, wrote the event on the calendar, and promised he didn't have to do anything for the rest of the weekend. The remainder of his weekend involved quiet time, guitar, samurai sword, adding to his medical pack, and of course, alone time. 

I’m not sure how many people were invited to the baby birthday party, but 50 showed up. I don’t think I knew 50 people when I was one. If I don’t count my Facebook friends and co-workers, I don’t think I even know 50 people now. I mean, I have lots of friends, I promise. I swear I’m not weird...like my samurai sword wielding husband. But when did birthday parties for one-year-olds become such a big deal? We were present at our friends' wedding, the baby shower, the birth, and the birthday. We have to be present at this?  Baby-milestone events are a cottage industry. Buy stocks in Toys” R” Us, people! 

The party was clearly more about something other than the adorable birthday boy. It was about the mom and impressing other moms.  It was over the top. (As a side note, I luuurve the parents.  They’re really solid, good people who just want everything for their son.)

Half of the people there had children and a few of them would let said children run around unsupervised. I sat on the floor, criss-cross-apple- sauce style to play with the kids. No other adults were around and one kid knocked another kid on the floor! Didn't a grown adult need to watch them? Or perhaps a young adult? At least a teenager? That got me thinking. Someone was going to ask when it was my turn to have babies. These loving parents’ lives are so consumed with child care, they jet as soon as another capable adult enters the room. They want you to share in that joy with them.

Here's the raw story: people want to know your intimate business.  INTIMATE. “When are you having babies?” “Are you thinking of having kids?” “So when are you two having children?” “Are you actively trying?” “Are you on birth control?” “Do you have sex when you’re ovulating?”  Okay, that last statement didn't happen, but it could have! Salt N’ Pepa, you feel me with your “None of Your Business” bravado, right?

Best friends, disaster sisters, other sisters, cousins, and peeps I have confided in have a right to ask this BECAUSE I HAVE GIVEN THEM PERMISSION TO ASK. My husband, who didn't want to go in the first place, was asked, "When are you going to have kids?" four times. I was asked the same question nine times! Nine! There is so much added pressure women feel when it comes to parenthood.

Having children is an amazing thing for all people who want it, but it isn't the only fulfilling thing for a woman. Or a man.

The unsolicited baby question is so nosy and uncomfortable. After the party a few of us discussed responses to that question. One fellow non-mom said she tells people they tried, but had a miscarriage (true). Then she stares into their soul. I say we're casually trying. Not trying, but not not trying.

The thing is I see my friends having gorgeous children and I want that.  I’m working towards that, but what if my husband doesn't have swimmers? What if I have an uninhabitable womb? What if we can’t afford it? What if, what if, what if? We want to have the joy of children and we want you to share that with us. But please let us choose how we share it with you.

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