By that, I certainly don't mean to imply that I had anything to do with it. It came as a shock, I'll have you know.
I'm afraid of babies. I don't know that I've ever held a baby in my whole entire life, and I only recently (we're talking the last three months, maybe) started being okay with tickling a baby's foot or letting it hang onto a finger. And that still feels awkward.
I mean, I know babies aren't fragile. I'm a smart person, and if there are all kinds of crazyheads out there who have held children without them dying, then I'm sure I can do it, too, eventually. But honestly, if that baby's not mine or related to me in some way, I don't really want to touch it. I don't have anything against you or your offspring. It's just...it's a baby. I don't really get what everybody is so wild about.
That being said--
--I think I just might be one of the most excited aunts-to-be ever.
It took me a long time to warm up to the idea of my brother and his wife having a kid. I got "the call" while waiting with my bff for a table at Ruby Tuesday's, and I was so shaken by the news that I had to remind myself to congratulate them. I was useless for the rest of the evening, unable to carry on a conversation or be even remotely interesting (compared to my regular effusive self, at least). I went home and cried because I felt guilty for not feeling happy for them at all. It wasn't that I was unhappy; I just didn't really feel anything. And that made me feel awful.
I spent about two months being unenthused and super guilty, occasionally having moments where I would edge toward happiness about it. I was happy that Andrew and Page were happy, by the way -- I'm not a complete jerk -- but that was pretty much it. Everyone else kept saying how they loved the thing already, how they couldn't wait to see it and hold it and smell its baby smell (...?). Not me. The closest to excitement and anticipation I got was when I got to think about buying clothes and shoes for it. Hello, excuse to go shopping!
I was at school the day Page found out if it was a boy or a girl. I was outrageously curious, and I'd already decided that I was going to be really angry if they didn't call or text me personally to tell me what was up. I don't get signal inside the school building, so I walked out just before 4pm, checked my phone, and...nothing. Got in my car, started it up, plugged in the music, checked again...nothing. I got pretty sad. I called Page.
Apparently, she was wondering why I hadn't gotten in touch earlier. She had been waiting for my call, for she'd texted me at 9:45 that morning, very soon after she finished with her appointment. Everything went great, the baby was healthy and growing well, the pictures were clear.
It was a boy.
And I wanted to cry. Because for the first time, I was fully and legitimately and irrevocably excited about my little nephew. I couldn't wait to hold the little guy and watch baseball games with him, let him chase me when we play monsters, climb on my back when we play cowboys, and jump on the couch with him (don't tell his parents) when we play superheroes. I couldn't wait to buy a zillion striped shirts and little overalls and books and toys for him (of course, I'm sure you know I've already gotten a healthy head start with that one), read to him, teach him all kinds of useless facts, words in other languages, and tickle him until he can't stand it.
I'm not about to go up and feel Page's belly or anything (weird), and I'm not sure when I'll be comfortable with my little buddy in my arms. I'm ready to see him, though. I'm really ready for it.
Finally.
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