Saturday my friend Jordana and I were sitting around, kicking stories back and forth for our book, and somehow got to talking about our friend Jessie, who became a mother a week and a half ago. Jordana said that she had seen Jessie and she looked radiant and the baby was adorable. I said “And now you really want one, right?” because I knew that she and Thabs had been talking about it. She replied, “Well, a bit more than that.” “You’re pregnant?!?” I said in disbelief. She nodded, and I shrieked. At least I guess I shrieked, because the other people in the coffeehouse looked at me funny. She then told me that she was just past three months and had wanted to tell me for ages, but there’s that whole superstition about not saying anything before the first timester was over. And that I was the first person outside the family she’d told, and would I think about being the baby’s godmother?

Would I? What the hell kind of a stupid question was that? Of course I would. I even cried a little. I haven’t cried for joy like that…well, since the Steelers won the Super Bowl last year.

Somehow, I feel like we’re crossing a bridge here. One of my best friends from college, Dawn, is due to have her first child on January 7. Jordana is due in early June. My friends are having babies and I guess we’re growing up.

One could say at this point (and I know that one of you will) “But Rick has kids! This isn’t exactly a new thing.” One would be right, in a sense. One would be an unsufferable git in another sense and completely missing the point. Yes, Rick has kids. Those kids were born when I was 14 and 17, respectively. It’s not quite the same as when people your own age start having kids. I have a friend who had a child when she was 20, but that didn’t feel the same, either. We all knew she was young to be having a kid. There was no judgement, but neither was there a sense that “Hey, the rest of us could just as easily be mothers.” The two women who are pregnant now are old friends of mine. They have been through some intense years of change with me, and I’m close to them as a result. And the fact that I am now old enough to be a godmother? That means that HOLY SHIT, I’m old enough to be a mother.

Do not EVEN start. That is SO not going to happen any time soon.

My first act as godmother will be to get my godbaby a good book for bedtime reading. This is the book: Why Mommy Is a Democrat. Hey, part of being a godparent is looking out for the kid and helping to raise it to be a good person. Well, this baby is going to be raised right left!

« »