As I have mentioned before, I have a lot of babies in my life right now. And by that, I mean other people’s babies who are somehow associated with me. Two of the closest associates are my godsons, one of those also being my nephew. Those baby boys are absolutely adorable and lovable. I love to hear about them and be around them and see their cute faces. I love to kiss their chubby cheeks and see them smile.

I show off pictures of these cuties like a proud grandparent. Often people respond with a wry grin, raised eyebrows and questions of when I will have one of my own.

The general consensus seems to be that babies are contagious.

I understand. I guess hanging out with a baby is supposed to make me want to rush out to the baby store and get one for myself. But a baby is not exactly an i-phone. And for me, at least, real-life baby associates have created the opposite effect that people think they will. The babies terrify me.

Now, this does not mean that Ned and I will indefinitely delay any attempt to have a family — quite the opposite. Having children is about one of the only things I am sure that I want to do in life. Ned is quite certain of it too. And as many of you know, the man loves babies … especially crying babies. He does a little bounce-bounce, the crying ceases, and he’s like superman — very satisfying. So yes, we would like to have an expanded family some day, hopefully not too far in the distant future (not getting any younger over here). But I think it’s precisely that desire to have children that makes babies so terrifying.

I guess I’ve always daydreamed of theoretical babies.  The reality seems like a quite a different story.

I mean, being responsible for another life is pretty huge. When I try to wrap my head around that, it almost explodes. But even the more mundane aspects of parenthood elude me. Ok, I’ll admit it: I sometimes find babies a little bit … boring. For instance, consider “tummy time,” the world of baby play. Baby lies on tummy, works out muscles, lifts head, looks at stuff. I guess it’s OK. But after a few minutes of it, I’m all like, “Ok, baby, I am bored of looking at the floor. What do you think we should do about the situation in Zimbabwe?” And the baby replies, “Aaaaaaaaaa!”

As it turns out, this is about the extent of my answer to the problems of Zimbabwe as well, so I can’t fault the kid.

But I find myself wondering, “What if this was all day? Every day? With no other adults around?” Nap, eat, poop, change, stare, smile. Repeat. No nap. Repeat. Repeat.


I am told that it is different when they are your own children. I assume it would be different when it’s your own home and life too. And of course, there are many positive things, like the way babies help you appreciate the little things (the way the light comes in a window, for instance — the babies love that). And, most importantly, I believe the good Lord assists. So I do (fearfully, dreadfully) hope that at some point I get the chance to experience it…even if it does absolutely terrify me. And believe me, it does.