Too Much Baby Ish

Yesterday at work there was a rare occasion for us to stand around talking; one of our co-workers is retiring. Due to a large change in what company fills positions where I work, we have had a large influx of new people. Most of them have been young-ish (twenties would be my guess) women with young children. I made the unfortunate mistake of standing near the pregnant co-worker and, because it is the only topic allowed to be discussed with someone who is obviously pregnant, the discussion was about how far along anyone was before they let the world know about it. For a brief moment there was discussion of infants getting things in momma’s long hair, which I was able to join, but too soon the talk shifted back to pregnancy and I quietly excused myself. Today I got the email I have been dreading – the surprise baby shower for the pregnant co-worker. I don’t want to go, I don’t want to participate and I kind of resent the fact that it’s sociably enforced – meaning, I’d look like a royal bitch if I didn’t go. My co-worker friend and fellow infertile is going to ask her mom to make a baby quilt and I can go half-sies with her on that, saving me a tear-inducing visit to the Baby’s R Us registry hell. Part of me is feeling disgruntled because no one sent even so much as card to me when I welcomed my child into my family officially (when Primero was adopted). The other part of me is feeling so raw and disconcerted from the impending removal of Chica Marie. So, I’m not in a good emotional place at the moment and not feeling mentally fit enough to deal with all the pregnancy/baby ish that’s proliferating around the office at the moment. I sound like one of those grumpy old ladies who simply cannot be happy about anything. Maybe that’s what I’m becoming, I mean we do have an awful lot of cats at home….