Thursday, March 18, 2010
Becoming That Woman
"OH MY!" I exclaimed, and my hands went all fluttery. "How exciting! Your first! Oh, it's so exciting, your first child!" On I went, using exclamation point after exclamation point. She smiled patiently, and kept foiling away.
And then I became that woman: the one that used to prattle on and on to me when I was pregnant with my first. At the grocery store, the salon, Babies R Us - everywhere I went it seemed these middle aged women were popping out of the woodwork to go on and on about their first pregnancies, their c-section scars or how many hours they pushed, their colicky babies, their sleepless nights, their - EW - episiotomies (for the one or two guys who read this blog I'll spare you the details). All this TMI was followed by some Disney-esque exclamation, like: "Oh, but it's such a magical time!"
When did this happen? When did I become the woman of two school aged kids, who won't be having any more children, who is talking to young pregnant women like we're peers? I realized, with some horror, that she is about ten years younger than I am.
Throughout my tirade she smiled patiently, nodding her head on occasion, waiting me out. She's used to it, just like I was. I know she's thinking the same thing I was when this happened to me: whatever, lady.
I stop myself, and leaf through my Us magazine for a minute or two, sheepish. Finally, I ask what I wish other women would have asked me: "How are you feeling? Are you excited? Nervous? Have you started buying baby stuff yet? Are you registered anywhere?"