HITTING ME LIKE A TON OF BRICKS

The past while I feel like I've been handling other peoples' baby stuff pretty well. Much better than I was in July and August when I got a torrent of pregnancy announcements. Recently those pregnancies have produced, umm, babies (thank God for healthy babies), and I am actually feeling ok.

Maybe it's because I haven't met any of the babies, maybe because I'm cycling right now, maybe it's because I have grown as a person (though I wouldn't put too much weight on that one.)

In all this okay-ness, yesterday I experienced a relapse.

My wonderful friend gave birth last week to her second little girl. My friend claims she has everything she needs-enough blankies, enough rattles, and cetainly enough pink onesies that the little one will grow out of faster than we can blink. (She was going batty with the all the gifts from her first baby, and had so much stuff that she never even used. Now she's got her chance, but people like to buy gifts, and she's still getting more!) So yes, I could have run into The G.ap and picked up the cutest little newborn extravagant gift possible, but I knew this would not cut it in the category of thoughtful baby gift from best friend. So instead I decided to order a pair of these. Man they are so delish. And certainly not something that can be handed down from baby's older sister. (If you need a gift, go to it. Support the commerce in my community!)

This product is made by a woman working at home. I thought the process would be simple. Email lady the baby's name, run over to her house to pick up shoes. Um. No. She preferred I picked up my merchandise at a local cafe that just opened. A cafe dedicated to mothers and babies. Star.bucks meets Gym.boree, meets Nail Salon, meets Yoga Studio, meets Natur.al Baby Pro.duct Boutique. All very modern, all very cool. Pretty much the type of place I would choose to hang out in, ummm, should I have the appropriate, er, accessory.

I took a deep breath and opened the door (and helped a woman with her stroller). It was first thing in the morning, so mercifully there were only 2 babies present. I enquired about my product, and was told that the woman who runs the boutique would not be in for another half an hour. Now, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT COMPELLED ME TO DO THIS, but I parked my butt on a chic leather sofa and decided to wait. I suppose in the same way one can't avert one's eyes when passing a car crash.

Throughout my half hour wait women arrived with their children. Pregnant women arrived with their babies. (Yes! Women who have obvioulsy been blessed twice in the time that I have been trying for one!) The owner told me all about their services and programs. Little ones toddled up to me and giggled. It was wonderful to see all this in a coffeshop, but it was tearing me up inside. It was some kind of cruel joke asking me to step into this place. I was just about at the point of letting the tears flow when the woman I had been waiting for walked through the door.

The rest of the day was a disaster for me. I couldn't work, I couldn't function. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, a tons of bricks fell out of the sky and landed on my chest. It is so not ok that other people keep having babies and that I can't.