Some years ago, my friend and her baby daughter joined me for a visit to Denver’s historic Lakeside Amusement Park. It didn’t occur to me to offer help with the baby in any way since I was oblivious and thoughtless. My friend said she needed to stop in the restroom and she turned to me, and with a smile, thrust her baby into my arms.  My headed almost exploded.  I was pretty sure the child would not survive this encounter.  Or me.

I fumbled with the infant as my friend turned on her heel and walked away. Since I was a woman who probably looked to her like a grandma, all her mommy instincts told her it was 1. Fine to trust me and 2. I would enjoy this. I spent the 4 minutes outside the bathroom saying, “Hi, baby, hi baby,” a few times, and looking around me for a back-up caretaker in case I blacked out.  All was well and the mother retrieved the child, looking, I thought, disappointed that I didn’t say something like, “Oh, I’ll hold on to her awhile.”

I think I’ve changed just a bit and would do better in this situation if it happens again.  I might not feel instinctive baby-love in my soul, but I value my friends more than ever. 

I met a young woman sitting at a party with a baby in her arms who started our conversation by asking (and this is totally true,) “How many children do you have?” When I smiled, made the zero sign with my hand, and said “Zilch,” she put her hand on my arm and said, “That is so sad.” I swear she had tears in her eyes. “I’m…ok,” I said. But she sadly shook her head. In her mind, I am living a tragedy.

I can live with that.