I can’t say that I had ever been overly keen on babies ie: fawning over baby showers, squealing over tiny dresses, but recently as two of my dearest friends welcomed their new son, Elliott, into the world and surely slipped him into a set of amazing baby brogue oxfords-I felt some of the first true kicks of baby fever.
I cried at Liquid Bar when I found out the gender of Elliott through a private and cleverly crafted YouTube video the parents sent out and then again when I received the news that he was healthy and happy, born on June 3rd. I teared up when I watched a video of him “purring” in his sleep, the tiniest of hands and the softest of cheeks, knowing his mom was there with dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep but feeling more blissful than ever. Then there are the moments when I watch toddler Cole playing soccer with his dad at an indoor playing field with his amazing, patient mother filming and think to myself “now that is wonderful”. I remember of when I held Marie, my best friend’s niece, when she was maybe two years old and taught her how to meow, to the dismay of the rest of her family. These memories are incredible, the feelings inexpressible. I love these little people so much, even though I haven’t been in their lives for the past several months-if longer.
While I can’t say exactly when I’ll be expecting myself, I’d say it probably won’t be for at least a few years to come-although I know my mom is hoping it’ll be sooner. Even though pregnancy is in the future for me, the more prevalent it becomes in my own life as close friends and family begin to grow their families. I find myself curious about the process, the costs, the feelings and fears. Then I came across this article from the New York Times: American Way of Birth, Costliest in the World.
As Katie J.M. Baker (via Jezebel) says, “This New York Times report on the exorbitant price of giving birth in America is chock-full of statistics that will make you feel both angry and impotent.”
While I don’t feel impotent, I do feel angry-and a bit frightened.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, but for friends who have arrived at that bridge, maybe unexpectedly, I hope the best for you and that ultimately you may welcome your new son or daughter without worrying about something as fleeting and stupid as money-take this moment and be happy.