Not everyone was happy that I got pregnant.
A few weeks after Mike and I found out we were having a baby, I agreed to go to brunch with my former co-workers and ex-boss. One of them noticed I was wearing a wedding band and asked if I had gotten married to which I said yes and added, “And I’m having a baby!”
Even though these women were phenomenal at transforming communities and helping immigrant families, they wallowed in the requisite office gossip, especially when it was aimed at me. Take for example the Christmas party when Mike and I arrived late and left early. They took this to mean that Mike and I were in an abusive relationship because all older man/younger woman relationships are abusive! Women in their 20s don’t have minds of their own; they don’t gain wisdom until menopause! And when another one told me that my “lack of typing” was a sign of Mike controlling me, well, chalk that up to domestic violence, not employee boredom!
And upon my sharing that I was with child, they said they would rather throw themselves down the stairs multiple times than be pregnant. Well, only one woman said that, but it was the general consensus that I was doing a pretty stupid thing by becoming pregnant so young. But there wasn’t anyone at that table who said congratulations or mazel tov, and I was pretty pissed at the memory of their frowning, barren faces.
And now, over a year later, Nathan’s awesomeness (and my new job’s completely career-nurturing, family-friendly environment) has dissipated whatever disdain I had for those women. And even though I’m sure there was much fanfare over how big of a mistake I was making and how my stint at motherhood would be disastrous, I’m probably just as bad as they were since this is just my side of a dirty mess.
I’m going to a baby shower today where there will be a sure sighting of my ex-boss. But I’m not worried about seeing her since there’s no better way to play oneupmanship than having youth, an Elton-John singing son and a sweet life. What has furrowed my brow is that the gal having the baby shower has told me that she does not want to have a “Target baby,” because Target is cheap. Well, someone file that under “o” for OBVIOUS. Of course, Target’s cheap. That’s why I shop there.
I’ll guess I’ll have to go with the wise unsolicited advice I received at the grocery store, “Watch your baby.”