It think that it really is a bit early in our whole journey for me to be bitter and resentful of women who are pregnant or have babies, so I am trying to restrict it to the immediately post-negative-beta days.
That would have been this past weekend.
Friday, after picking up my “you are officially not pregnant” papers, I met Shrike at Taco Bell for dinner.
Afterward, we were standing by our cars talking, when we saw a group of kids leave the restaurant.
Two girls, two guys, none of whom could have been a day over eighteen, and a teeny baby.
Granted, they may have been babysitting (I know I used to get quite indignant when people assumed that my sister’s kiddos were mine – especially #1, when I was 16) but that possibility really didn’t make me feel any better about it.
But, here’s an even better story:
During our beach trip, the whole family was at dinner Saturday night when Shrike said to me, “I know it may be rubbing salt in the wound, but look . . . ” and gestured to a girl outside (waiting for a table), who was holding a teeny-tiny baby, all in pink.
A little salty, yeah, but she was precious.
The girl holding her was of indeterminate age. She was kind of maturely shaped, but looked awful young – and was about fifty feet away, and in the dark. It was really hard to tell.
Twelve? Sixteen? Eighteen? Not a “real grown-up,”for sure.
But there was another woman near her; were they together? Maybe she was actually the baby’s mom? On the other hand, she seemed kind of old to have one that small.
(Says the woman who will be at least forty when she gives birth.)
I said something to Shrike along the lines of, “Please tell me that’s her big sister or her aunt, holding her, not her mother!”
Shrike’s sister said, “Who? Oh, that little baby girl outside? She was cute!”
All of which is to so that there were three of us who’d seen this baby, and commented on her cuteness.
As I was going to the restroom, the family was finally being seated.
I got a closer look at the girl as she walked in the door.
Carrying her doll.