The Baby Fever Remedy
There’s a phenomenon in New York, where once the snow starts to melt and the down coats are off, more and more women are sporting an extra layer of round on their stomachs like it’s no big deal. There they are getting coffee at the bodega — decaf of course. There they are walking to the subway as fast as the rest of us, leading with their bellies like a champ. There they are standing in front of you at Duane Reade, chatting on the phone about business deals, having their shit together while you’re still pondering how they can afford those Gucci loafers, nice hair, and rent, while you’re still looking at your hair care products, determining which one you could do without till next payday.
“People are just cooped up in the winter and then fertile for picking by spring,” my friend pointed out to me , and once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. Bam, baby bump at brunch. Bam, baby stomach at the park. Bam, pregnant woman going through a subway turnstile as I watch in fascination and concern.
She was fine. Apparently, baby stomachs are pretty resilient. I can attest to this because a pregnant lady once let me touch her stomach, and while I delicately placed my palm on her rotund belly, she laughed, and grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards her.
“See most people think you gotta be careful,” she said in her thick Southern accent. She had a bubbly personality that allowed me to trust her more than I would a normal person. “But stomachs are really okay if you — ” and to my 90 percent horror and 10 percent fascination, she pressed my hand into her tummy, which sounds like it would be easy but wasn’t. I met a lot of resistance, probably because the baby has nothing else to do but to fortify it’s mom’s inner walls and lie in liquid goop all day. And the woman laughed a little as she pressed my hand on.
It was not unlike what I imagine people in sci-fi movies feel when they go through a liquid mirror into another dimension. In this case I should clarify, no I did not enter her stomach by pressing my way into the Gack-y like elasticity of her stomach. And no, it did not feel cool or as easy as I would imagine.
Then I felt something solid, possibly tiny and babylike. I looked up in horror.
“That’s it!” She claimed, giving me my hand back, which I pulled away to study with slight disgust. “That’s the baby!”
“Are you okay?” I asked, looking at her in shock.
She giggled. “Of course!” She patted her belly, and I mentally sent psychic waves of concern to the fetus I just prodded. How rude of me! “People always think you gotta be careful,” she said with a shake of her head. “But you’re really okay.”
I wouldn’t say I was okay per se. I mean, I felt things I don’t think I should. I also invaded a burgeoning human’s space, which is weird when you consider how close I stand to people on a subway.
But seriously, bam. Once spring hits, you just see how everyone’s been quite busy on those days snowed in days, when you were probably watching Gilmore Girls for the umpteenth time and paced your small box apartment like a caged animal.
At least all the babies will have friends with lots of birthdays near one another. I’m not sure how well everyone will get along with their signs overlapping, but then again it’s not like their birth sign is their pure personality. That’s just silly to assume.
There’s also their rising, ascending, moon, venus signs which use time and location to factor.
I bring up babies, because my sister and her husband stopped by this weekend with my niece, who is a Leo. And I got really excited to hang out with this kid. Maybe it’s because I can’t have a pet in my apartment or maybe it’s because I like the wee shoes and wee coats babies have to wear, but I got baby-thinking. You know the, “This is fun hanging out with this baby! I’m rediscovering all the wonders and nuances of living because this baby just don’t know! Maybe I can do this for a living!”
And I get that that is a different thought than me discovering a new skill, like baking, and thinking I can do that for the rest of my life. (I can’t. I’m still trying to get better at baking.) And I get that baby nurturing is more than carrying the baby and cooing along when she talks her baby nonsense language.
I mean, essentially, it would mean I’d have to stop watching Gilmore Girls during snow days, and be able to afford more than haircare products at Duane Reade.
And if that isn’t enough to make you want to pace yourself then try putting a baby to sleep. Babies are as bad as millennials as a marketing consumer. They’re up to your tricks and they won’t do your bidding at all. You have to give them all the artisanal attention and personalized experience — even if that is doing squats as you cradle them and simultaneously pat their back to the beat of a Selena Gomez song playing in your head.
Babies are nice. They’re there. They look good in all things because mismatching prints is a sign of their youthful whimsy and not a big fashion don’t. They’re just more than the fun playing in the park time.
Also where are you going to put them in that New York apartment, huh?
