Build a stairway to heaven with a prince or a vagabond

April 13, 2008

I’m young.

Sure, I’m not YOUNG young (I don’t fit into Limited Too’s clothes anymore, nor do I like what they sell) but I’m young enough that I still can’t get into bars without displaying cleavage or not know all the good hiding places in case the cops come to the house party.

However, I’m old enough to vote. I’m old enough to buy porn or cigarettes (not that I utilize this privilege.) I can get in to R-rated movies.

But the last thing I want at this age, in all honesty, is a baby.

The idea of unexpected pregnancy scares me. Almost as much as marriage at this age does. I am not at all prepared for the responsibility that either one of those things requires. I am fickler than most, and I feel that both of those things are fairly permanent situations.

So while perusing the pages of facebook – my favorite online distraction – I came across a name I did not recognize. Someone who’s face was familiar, and was friends with a lot of people I knew, but I could not place her name.

So I examine her profile, realizing we went to high school together, and that I do in fact know her. But why does her name strike me off guard?

Because her last name has changed. She got married.

In addition to the name change, her wall is full of congratulations and her latest photo album includes images of cut umbilical cords, scrunched tiny faces, and swaddling.

She had a baby.

Now I wish her as much luck as humanly possible. Only congratulations is in order. But it shocked me to know that someone who graduated from high school with me (and couldn’t be more than probably 10 months older) is married, and just gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. It makes me feel like a baby myself, like I couldn’t handle that much commitment in my wildest dreams; I have trouble keeping the television on the same channel…

I don’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified that I’ve reached the age where my peers are making the choices that truly define the rest of their life.

And on a personal, and truly ironic note, happy one year anniversary baby.

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