I attended my first baby shower today for a colleague on my team. Emmanuella, another colleague, and I arrived an hour late and were the first people there. There were about eight of us for about an hour while people tried to figure out how to get the guest of honor to show up at her own party. The conversation (in French and Creole with a little English thrown in when people were feeling fancy) was about English classes for children, the benefits of swimming classes for asthmatic children, which drugs to give asthmatic children, and always, the crazy things that children say. I was the only person there without a kid. I thought of my friend, Anita, in the US who is pregnant. I thought about how I should call her to have a normal conversation before the baby pops into her life and changes her vocabulary to one I don’t understand.
People were still arriving long after the end time on the invitation. The few men who accompanied their wives got to go outside into the garden where there was beer and wine. I was indoors, seated in a circle with a bunch of women where I understood (or was interested in) none of the conversation. It’s not shocking that I’m not in my element at a baby shower. There are awkward pauses because people don’t necessarily know each other well and the cutesy games demand more laughter than they deserve.
But Nathalya, the mother-to-be, seemed happy and in good spirits after her mother finally convinced her to come to her surprise party on a day when she was tired and just wanted to eat ice cream at home. Bodes well for her adventure into motherhood, I guess.
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