So, I did go to the christening. I tried to find a convenient excuse; I was dragging my heels, but I went. There was no way around it really. We had declined numerous times on previous occasions:
Christmas party where baby # 3 was weeks old, baby # 3’s christening, housewarming where the friend’s wife was 8 months pregnant with # 4, Christmas party where baby # 4 was weeks old.
So, I knew this may have been the last invitation extended our way. We went in and walked around, trying to find a familiar face. I doubted that there would be anyone their I knew and that didn’t help my reluctance to be there. It’s always hard to be married to a blind man at his friends parties. People don’t always come to him and he can’t really point people out. So, I sometimes am forced to do a desperate attempt at conversation with people he may or may not know. From the time he sat down, he kept asking if I was okay.
Anyway, I really talked to no one but the friend and his wife. The other women in the room all had kids with them and it left me a little tongue tied. I am one of those people who can usually speak to anyone. However, I couldn’t find a way around, “do you have kids?” I thought since the baby was 5.5 months that he’d be the youngest one there. He wasn’t and numerous other party guests had infants younger. I was surprised at how well I did. I desperately wanted to hold the baby, but was afraid to ask. She didn’t offer, probably because I was being weird that afternoon.
I went, I saw, I retreated.
My husband told me he was proud of me. By the time we walked out the door I could hardly breathe. I was glad for the rain and the thunder because it made it easier to let the sobs out and the tears down.