My cousin’s baby shower is this weekend. I got the
invitation a few weeks ago and promptly lost it. Even if I was flirting with
the idea of putting myself through that torture, seeing how my mom doted over
her on the 4th of July cemented in my mind my decision to avoid the
occasion. Apparently, according to my aunt, the mother-to-be’s family believes
any occasion worth celebrating is worth over-celebrating and so the baby shower
is set from noon to 8 pm (I am not kidding) and all are invited, yes even
children. Nope. No thank you, I’m going to pass. It was hard enough ignoring
the pregnant talk when they were at my parent’s place for the picnic, I don’t
think I could endure an entire day of it.
I’m sure my mother is mourning not being able to share in a
pregnancy with one of her daughters. She doesn’t get to mother the
mother-to-be, to do her part to keep her healthy and dole out tips for each
pregnancy milestone. My sister is not interested in becoming a parent and my
body disappointed us both. So, I get why she got all motherly with my cousin’s
wife. But, it was a stab to the heart hearing her admonishing my cousin for not
getting her a drink and talking about how to discern which doctor might be
on-call should she go into labor over the weekend. The gender mishap was
rehashed with all the details and both my mom and my aunt shared memories of
their combined 6 pregnancies. I busied myself with trying to convince Love Bug
to go potty and trying to stave-off Chica Marie’s requests to start the
campfire and cook the s’mores, but obviously I still heard everything and it
still stung.
I haven’t talked to my mom to see if she is going, but I
think she was planning on it. I already told her, even before the invitations
came out, I wasn’t planning on attending. Even after all this time, baby
showers still gut me. Would I attend one for a close friend? Yes, I probably
would. But, I will probably avoid all other baby showers because what is the
point in such self-flagellation?
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