happy hour

Happy hour yesterday with some former co-workers was interesting. I left this job before the Baby Rabies infected me. In fact, as of the last day of this job back in April, I was pretty adamant and outspoken about being soooo not ready for kiddos for at LEAST 5 years. Several of them, all of whom are women in their mid to late twenties, shared the same point of view, and we would often discuss how terrible it would be to have a baby at this point in our careers – how it would surely make life too difficult and stressful. So there I sit at happy hour, a little relieved that I’m not pregnant and don’t have to order O’Douls on the sly, with the same girls who’s views seemed to not have changed. It’s not that babies or pregnancy were the topic of conversation. I don’t even think it was mentioned once, but I still felt like a huge liar. What was I going to do? Surely, I couldn’t clink my glass and announce “Ahem, I have an announcement…I am no longer the woman you once knew. My husband and I are screwing like bunnies with the hopes that we will produce a child. Please forgive me for turning my back on my professional ambitions. I really should be going soon before I infect you all. I would hate to see your successful careers suffer the same fate.” No. I just guzzled my Blue Moons silently.

Despite doing our best to hide that fact that we are TTC, I think it’s starting to show to those who know us well. In fact, I’m pretty sure my husband’s closest brother and his wife are on to us. We were always the blissfully unaware aunt and uncle that came into town, spent a brief amount of time with their young children, then complained to them about what hard work it was and how we just had no idea how they did this every-single-fucking-day of their lives. Well, the last time we were down, about a month ago, we replaced those complaints with questions….honest to goodness questions like how long do they sleep through the night at this age, what type of stroller do you have, and they’re not so bad, right? I thought we were being uber sneaky, but out of nowhere his brother turns to us and says, almost accusingly, “Whoa!! You guys aren’t thinking of having a kid are you? Man…seriously??? Don’t do it!” Of course, we looked at them like they were speaking Japanese and did our best to brush it off like he’s had too many of the baby’s Fruit Loops. We’re going to need to avoid them like the plague for a while.

See, number one, I’m just not comfortable with telling people we are TTC. I think it paints unnecessary visuals in their heads, and I certainly don’t want it to be brought up as the topic of conversation at other people’s dinner tables. I have never understood people who make announcements that they are ready to TTC. Ewww, thank you very much for that. Now every time I call and you don’t pick up the phone I’m going to assume you’re stirring the baby batter.

Mainly, I don’t want to tell anyone because it is going to shock the hell out of them when we do get pregnant (assuming that actually happens sometime soon), and I personally can’t WAIT to see their faces and hear their reactions – a hundred bucks everyone is going to assume it was an accident! Then I’m going to send them all here, proof that I have actually been infected for months and have blended into the rabies free society like a zombie. It will be earth shattering for some.

Until then, we must keep up this charade. I imagine it will get much harder once I actually am pregnant. We say we won’t want to tell anyone for a couple months, but who knows how hard it’s going to be to stay quiet at that point. I’m going to need lots of suggestions on how to look like I’m getting wasted on wine – per my usual self – when I’m not supposed to be drinking alcohol.