Note for friends planning to get knocked up in the future: When announcing this, please don't send me a picture of the pregnancy test. I mean, while it's exciting and it gets the point across, it also guarantees that I will forever associate pee sticks with your baby. In fact, I cannot promise that I will not greet your child in the nursery as “Hi, Pee Stick!”
Kitty is the first of my childhood friends to be in the family way and it’s a little weird. I mean, I’ve known people from junior high and high school that have had kids, but this is the first person I would consider an intimate acquaintance. I just keep thinking, “Aren’t we a little young to have children?”
But of course, we aren’t all that young anymore. I’m twenty-seven, and Kitty will be twenty-eight in December. In the vast expanse of human history, most first-time mothers were much, much younger than us. I think it still seems young to me because my mother was in her mid-to-late thirties when she had me. I really can’t imagine being pregnant.
I don’t hold people that I met as an adult to this same standard. Is that weird? If my friend Dina announces she’s pregnant, as she did a few weeks back at a bible study meeting, I don’t even blink an eye because, well, she’s a grown-up. Grown-ups do things like buy houses and have kids and worry about 401Ks.
But I knew Kitty when she was a little girl playing hopscotch in the school playground. I remember talking about the Backstreet Boys and Sailor Moon and who knows what else at sleepovers in her parents’ house. We went shopping at the mall for clothes to wear to school dances and for the latest music, back when kids bought CDs at Sam Goody instead of MP3 files from iTunes. We read Christopher Pike and R. L. Stine and Jane Austen.
We’re not grownups!
But time marches on…and now there’s going to be a baby Kitty in a stroller. This will probably be followed by a baby Bandaid next year, and a baby Kero after that, and after that…
Hold me. I’m a little scared now.