Tag Archives: Babies


5 Sep

There is nothing like a road trip with friends.

That said, I took a road trip this past weekend with my three best friends. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and it had been a good year and a half since we’d all been together, without boyfriends or husbands. There were 19 years of memories and jokes and general craziness on the agenda, and the weekend didn’t disappoint.

We got stuck halfway to South Carolina because of a horrible thunderstorm and stomach problems, so our trip started out at a Racetrack gas station at 9:00pm on Friday. I’m not sure if that set the tone for the weekend, but it was certainly very us.

We have this talent of all talking at once, about different things, but still holding a decent conversation. I’d forgotten this, until we were sitting in a circle at a Greenville coffeehouse, and I look around and realize that we’re all talking over each other, but I’m following the conversation perfectly. Again, very us.

By the time we graduated from high school, we’d all read the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and claimed this story as our own. Kelley bought us all tiny sterling silver pants, little charms, for graduation, a symbol that we might travel our separate ways, but would always be connected. It was true.

We looked like tourists; we all had our cameras, and took pictures every time we sat down, or were still, and sometimes when we weren’t. Picture frames at home were empty, waiting for this weekend.

We talked about first love, first kisses, and marriage at our big dinner Saturday night. And I remember all the sleepovers we used to have, in elementary and junior high, staying up late discussing and imagining what love would be like. And now, one of us is married, we’ve all been in love (and subsequently been kissed) and talk has turned, seemingly overnight, to more serious topics, like making a marriage work, making babies, making a career, making a life.

Alison and Kristen fell asleep on the way home Sunday afternoon, and I was left with my thoughts and the music. Friends are invaluable. These three girls know me better than anyone, and they are the only ones to whom I can say just one word and they know exactly what I’m thinking and feeling, and can almost finish my thought themselves. I don’t laugh with anyone the way I laugh with them. And sure, we don’t see eye to eye on everything. That’s life. And that’s also necesary. Keeps us on our toes. They’re a different breed of friend, and my life wouldn’t be the same without them.


1 Jul

I made a list, once, of everything I wanted out of life. It didn’t include the cookie cutter marriage to the cookie cutter man, or children, or a picket fence in the suburbs. I was OK with that. I had my music, my writing, my ideas and dreams and hopes.

I’ve always loved being different, wanting and achieving different things that most people I know. Right now, out of the 12 girls who graduated from my high school in 2004, eight are married, and as of yesterday, three of those eight have children. I can’t imagine that being my life. I can’t imagine being 24 and having a ring on my finger and a baby in the other room that came from my body. Like I’ve said before, I want different things than this. I want to go to our reunion and have something to show for myself besides a ring and a baby. Those are not the accomplishments I want under my name.

Something shifted in me last month. It was sudden, quick, sweeping in and overtaking me while my back was turned, catching me unaware and leaving me blinking in the sudden new light. I want to be a mommy one day. I want to watch my belly grow and feel the tiny kicks and make the midnight trip to the hospital and bring home a tiny little thing and make a family. I do. And while this feels right, and I will do it one day, I still feel guilty, or confused, that my new life ideas include a tiny person other than myself. I wish to God I was one of those people who are different and live an alternative lifestyle. As much as I want that, I still crave stability and normalcy, too. It’s an interesting feeling, one that I grapple with sometimes every day.

Even Sex and the City told me I can’t have both. I can’t be a career woman and a good mommy. It doesn’t work like that.

I feel like I’ve turned a corner, though. I’m on my way somewhere else now, the shadows retreating swiftly behind me and the light coming from a new angle. Or maybe it’s just a relief at embracing the inevitable, at accepting destiny and fate and biology, whatever you want to call it. Whichever it is, it’s enjoyable, this change of scenery, and I’m hanging on for as long and as far as this train runs.