Meternity

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I amble in, and in one quick motion, Katie’s sisters take my gift and hand me a mimosa. Everyone’s staring at the mom-to-be as one of Katie’s blonde sorority friends whispers a comment to her cohort decked out in Lilly Pulitzer. They look just about my age, but seem older, or at least more mature than I, and they size me up and down. My black stretchy material dress, whose empire waist gives me room for my post-night-out bloat, is probably not so baby-shower appropriate, but still very comfy.

As I look for an empty seat, I say a silent prayer that the women in the room with babies will not ask me to hold them. When I pick up one of my friend’s babies my first thought is never, Isn’t she adorable? It’s usually, How long do I have to hold her and smile before I pass her on to the next friend? Not because I don’t love babies—I do. It’s because I find myself going into a thought sequence of the worst possible scenario—not holding her head correctly so her neck falls back, turning her into a paraplegic for life.

Thankfully there are no longing-to-be-held babies in sight, so I take a seat in the back to watch the gift opening. I realize the women are gossiping about my lateness when one says, “She probably got her the baby bib—women without kids always get clothes.”

Ha! Wrong! I turn and stare at them with a self-satisfied grin. They don’t realize I work at Paddy Cakes and may have been, oh, an hour late, but have stealthily arrived with the best gift ever: the Breast-a-nator 2000, the ultimate antimicrobial milking machine that’s like a lactating spa in a box, and makes breastfeeding easy and comfortable.

Katie’s just about opened every gift piled sky-high in her family room—which I am envying, especially the cool velveteen sectional from Crate and Barrel, when I see her sisters handing her mine. I start to smile with pride.

“Oh, my God! This is, like, two hundred dollars! Thank you so, so much, Liz. I didn’t even register for it because I heard they were back-ordered in the States!” Katie exclaims, as she rips off the fancy embossed wrapping paper from my office’s crafts closet.

“I had my press contact call in the newest model from Denmark,” I say, beaming.

“How’d she know about that?” asks the blonde.

“I don’t know,” responds Lilly, “I didn’t even hear about it until last summer, when one of my nipples was about to come off.”

I decide to let everyone in the room in on my secret: “It won Paddy Cakes’ Top 10 Best of Babies last year. It stimulates milk while simultaneously applying a blend of aloe vera, vitamin E and shea butter to the affected area. The suction is centrifugal, mimicking conditions in space, so the areola gets darker and more supple,” I intone.

All Katie’s friends are in shock and don’t say another word. Her sisters just shoot over a good-for-you look.

“So, are you married?” says the blonde, turning to me while Katie and her sisters are putting away gifts. Darn, I think, I almost got out of here scot-free.