Myth Buster

So it would appear that I have busted my own myth.  That would be the one where I truly believed I must stay as far away from the children's hallway at church because I would not last five minutes.

Let me back up just a little bit though.

On Friday night, I sat amongst women I considered (notice this past tense...haha) my friends.  The need for children's workers came up in our conversation.  What happened next was kind of a blur for me. 

You know those times when you chime in on a conversation because that is totally appropriate social etiquette.  I think it was one of those moments.  It was far past my bed time and I was in a daydreaming, comatose like state, talking in between yawns.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it. 

I may have completely and utterly been joking when I said that I might as well go help in the nursery since I am not really engaging in the church service these days.  I should known by the perked ears and feeling as though I were suddenly fresh meat for a pack of ravenous dogs that I was in trouble.  Although, through my foggy brain and blurry eyes I am positive that I repeated how bad of an idea it would be for me to be with a bunch of children.

I must admit that babies have been on my brain lately.  I am 38 and my biological clock is ticking like a bomb.  My reproductive woes have had little influence over my heart and brain lately.  With friends having babies, trying to have babies, pregnant with babies, babies, babies, babies, everywhere babies...I swear my ovaries cry a little everyday.

As the music began playing today, I had a friend tap me on the shoulder from behind.  I'm sure she said to me, "I heard you wanted to help in the nursery and we really need help today."  That's not at all what I heard though. 

What I saw was this giant, floating head off to the side talking in a cartoon-like voice.  What I thought the cartoon-like voice was saying was, "B A B I E S...you want to go hold babies."  That was the point my brain lost all ability to answer in any sort of appropriate way, like with a "Have you lost your mind?  Those children can smell fear!"

But NO, my crying ovaries and baby, baby, baby, baby heart, jumped up and hauled the rest of me to the nursery.

Let me tell you, I was a fish out of water.  I've watched babies before, it isn't a new thing for me.  But there is something different about having a half dozen of them looking at me.  It is a completely different animal when you walk into a church nursery for the first time.  Not that anyone was mean or assuming or anything like that, but I'm not kidding when I say salivating pack of ravenous dogs.  Fresh meat!!!!

So many babies, it was overwhelming.  I was handed a fussy baby so my friend could tend to another fussy baby.  Not overly fussy, but fussy enough. 

As I sat and rocked the little guy, more help arrived.  Oh good, my chance to hand off and split.  But NO again.  Said baby boy calmed down, cooed and my ovaries once again took over for my brain.

After 30 minutes, I got to set in a quiet little room and rock the little guy to sleep.  Each time I laid him in the crib, he'd cry and we'd repeat.  The last time I rocked him longer and listened to him breathe deep with a hint of a snore.  I think in that moment, I finally got my brain back and decided it wasn't so bad.

But then I walked out with all the other babies and one by one they started to get fussy.  It was like a chain reaction.  What had I gotten myself into?  The next hour was a juggling and jostling of babies from person to another, trying to finding the right combination of adult and baby to make the babies happy.

I had walked in the nursery before, but only to drop off Sunday school books and when it was completely empty.  I would secretly laugh to myself when I would see the little instructions hanging on the cabinets.  I learned today that those things are just as good as an instruction manual and every child needs to have one. 

You know what else I learned, when you have multiple babies, parents really should somehow identify their baby bags.  That would make the hunt for diapers and binkies and blankies so much easier.

When the parents began to trickle in, I realized that I had officially busted that myth.  I had made it the entire time.  I was sure to show a moderate amount of anxiousness to get out of the nursery.  I wouldn't want anyone to think I had somehow become comfortable.

I left with drool running down my leg and spit up on my shirt and of course, that sweet baby smell all over me.  I think that made it all worth it.  But shhhhh...don't let that get out.  Pack. of. Ravenous. Dogs.!!!!!!