These are definitely weird times we’re living in, but it’s not all bad. Because of social distancing, we’ve had to get creative in how we can celebrate our loved ones. As a result, one of my favorite things to come out of these past few weeks is the drive-by baby shower.
If you didn’t already know, this week is officially Taylor Swift week, since her new album, Lover, comes out this Friday (August 23).
I could spend all day speculating about what this new album will be about (and believe me, I have spent many precious nap times doing exactly that), but perhaps there’s a more productive way to spend these last few days before Taylor blesses us with more soundtracks to our lives. Like maybe, reviewing how her previous anthems narrate our memories?
If infertility has taught me anything, it’s that I am not in control. Of anything. Ever. And just when I start to think I am in control, I get knocked back to down to size.
This is one of those stories.
My husband and I had been talking about maybe, sort of, possibly, looking into trying for a second baby. Our embryo storage bill was looming in the next few months, serving as a big, expensive reminder that our future babies were there, just waiting for us.
“I’m just not ready,” I kept thinking.
“But it’s time,” a voice in my head kept responding.
The baby registry. So much excitement and stress all rolled up into one task. Registering can be one of the most fun stages of being pregnant, but if you’re a psychotic over-analyzer like me, it’s also a massive undertaking. I felt the need to make sure I was choosing the “best” of everything. Like, literally everything (thank god for Lucie’s List). I researched the best crib mattress cover, the best changing pad, the best bottle brush… I was insane; believe me when I say those things don’t matter. Do not do this.