The Car Seat Story

I went to Chicago this past weekend (and bought a TON of stuff, though that is a story for another day) and when Andrew picked me up from the airport, I noticed that he had installed the car seat base in his backseat. He was proud of himself for figuring it all out, and I was proud of him for being so excited about the baby coming and for taking the initiative to get it ready.

But.

We are not going to have a baby for another five months. So the car seat installation seemed a bit premature.

The next day I went out to my car to find that he had also installed the second car seat base in my backseat, along with the car seat itself. And I freaked out a little bit. I don’t really know why. There was just something about seeing this little car seat there, and knowing that someday our teeny baby would ride in it, but then realizing that currently that teeny baby is only, oh, I don’t know, SIX INCHES long, that was too much for me to handle. Maybe there was just a little too much reality there, and maybe that was one of those moments where I realized OMG I’M GOING TO HAVE A REAL LIVE BABY.

I honestly wanted to take the car seat out right that minute and not think about it again for another four months, but I was already running late. And so it stayed there, safe and sound and properly installed, until that evening when Andrew and I sat down to dinner and I thought about the car seat thing and began crying. For some strange reason, Andrew did not know what was upsetting me, so he tried to ask me what was wrong. I said, “I’m pregnant,” which clearly is enough explanation, right? It means I’m emotional and hormonal and I can cry if I want to. But he still didn’t understand, poor guy.

Eventually I just asked him to take the car seat out. He seemed a little disappointed, like, oh, I thought you’d like that. And I did like it, in theory. I just wasn’t ready to see it in my backseat. I’m so far from ready. I’m sure I’ll be ready by March . . . but not yet.