Pass the Baby

I now believe that along with a baby, women birth both worry and guilt. It comes out with the placenta, like it's just part of the job description.

Most recently, I've been anxious about the upcoming Close Family 4th of July BBQ. It is the annual party they host for the Del Negro (Paul's mom's) side of the family. It's actually been a tradition since the older generation, and Paul and Chris have helped keep it going, even though there is only one remaining matriarch of the family. It's actually the one holiday we don't have to negotiate plans for whatsoever. Both Alex and I love going to Tahoe that time of year, and it's such a great opportunity to catch up with the extended family that we really only see once or twice each year. Plus, Close Quarters has opened up the party to neighbors, friends, Chris's side of the family, etc.

As for me and my anxiety - the Bean will be more than three months old by then and is theoretically suitable for being held for any and all admirers. In general, I don't consider myself particularly overprotective when it comes to other people holding Francie. Then again, I haven't been approached by strangers or sketch balls. But there is something about the sheer quantity of people at the BBQ that makes me nervous. I don't like the idea of Francie passing through dozens of pairs of hands. I prefer she be admired from a little distance when in crowds.

Seems like there's an easy solution, right? Just keep her in a carrier. But I'm worried about what the family will think of me if they don't all get a chance to hold her. They hosted a baby shower for me, and I feel like I owe it to them to share the soft skin, sweet smell, and beautiful face of my baby girl. If only it were that easy.

I raised my concern to Alex, part of the worry rooted in the knowledge that he and his parents are more of the show-off-the-baby variety. I suggested I just wear the Beco carrier and flip down the head support so everyone can still get a look at the Bean but will be less likely to ask to hold her.

Alex countered, suggesting he just hold the baby, confirming my suspicions that he wants to show her off.

Reflexively I want to shout, "I will hold her! She's MY baby. I birthed her!" But before those selfish words travel from my brain to my lips, I redirect.

"How about this," I start, (half) joking. "If anyone shows interest in holding the baby, let's first make them look at a picture of my post-partum vagina. So they know just how much work was done to create and birth this creature, to remind them that she came from by body and belongs to us. It will be like a cover charge. We can give them a stamp on the wrist if they pay the fee, so to speak."

Alex laughs, and we continue down this inappropriate-but-funny hypothetical situation. As if we don't care what people think.

I know alex is a proud papa, and Chris and Paul are proud grandparents, and they all want to show off little Francie, which I can understand. But I sort of feel like I made her, and the mama bear in me wants to keep my cub close and protected.

And it's not only my protective instinct. It's also an aversion to spoiling her with being the center of attention. I don't want her to be a typical first child; I don't want her to think the world revolves around her. So just to be safe (and a bit like Al), I explain this to the Bean. I figure it's never too early to initiate the cognitive aspect of problem-solving, even if she won't think that way until she's 22.

"I'm sorry to be the one to break the news, the world doesn't revolve around you," I tell Francine. "But we do. Our world revolves around you. We revolve around you."

"Yeah, you're really just a small part of a huge world," Alex adds. "But one who can still have a profound impact."

"Yeah, in both good ways or bad ways," I continue. "Like recycling. Or killing people. But still, you are indeed the center of our  universe."

"She's like our sun. We orbit around her," Alex says.

I like this metaphor. Francie is our little sunshine. And the mama bear in me wants to protect and guard her. I'm just not sure I'm ready for Pass the Baby, family or not.