Anti-baby women have made sporadic appearances in mainstream television shows for a while, but they're always the same character... comic relief sidekick to a friend having a baby. (Samantha from Sex and the City ring a bell?) But I have to tell you that they're based on real women. Namely, me.
Recently I talked to my doctor about having my tubes tied. I then shared this thought with a couple of friends and it went over like a fart in a car. The second it was out of my mouth I wished I hadn't told anyone. One immediately projected her deepest, most secret wish (and by "secret" I mean "unvoiced, but obvious to everyone who's paying attention") for herself onto me and said, "What happens when you meet the right guy and you finally settle down? You'll want to have babies!" There are several things wrong with this statement, and it only starts with the fact that I don't want to have babies. The other major problem with it is my view on long term relationships, but that's a story for another time. The other friend, who is great at being the devil's advocate, had a million questions all boiling down to "are you really sure you don't want to have one?" She finally accepted that I don't, even if she doesn't seem to understand it.
Well if I had any doubt about my lack of maternal instincts they were cleared up last night. I went to a housewarming party for my dear friend Brent, who's insanely hot brother recently produced another tiny piece of fruit from his loins. Cindy, Brent's mom, brought this tiny, swaddled, alien down the stairs to meet the guests. I watched with mild curiosity as he was passed around receiving oohs and ahhs and cooing nonsense noises from people. Nearly everyone who held him projected an air of wonder and jealousy. A "Wow, this is a tiny human and I wish he were mine" sort of thing.
And then the baby came to me. I didn't want it, but there it was, suddenly being gently transferred to my arms, "be sure to support his head" (It's not that I don't know how to care for one!). And as he lay there, head supported with my elbow, blankets wrapped and trailing over my lap, I had only one thought. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Seriously, I had no urge to coo, no feeling of protectiveness, no twitching in my uterus that made me want to squeeze one out for myself. Nothing like that. So I told his mom that he was the worst toy ever and handed him off to someone who would appreciate him.
I still don't know what the deal with babies is for everyone else, but for me it's clearly "no deal".
