obsession

Last summer, shortly after we had seriously started trying to get pregnant, we went on a trip to Belgium and Holland. At the time, I knew we were having problems (my lack of ovulation was really obvious) but we hadn’t yet met with the RE. At the time, I harbored a tiny fantasy that we’d be those obnoxious people who go on vacation and magically get pregnant. I knew what a crock that was, even then, but the trip was wonderful, and we were relaxed, and I thought, “Hey, it could happen.”

While we were there I became obsessed with strollers. The strollers we kept seeing had these huge, air filled tires and were so comfortable on the cobblestone streets. I even, somewhat furtively, went into a baby store to look at one up close. I wrote down company names, thinking how fun and unique it would be to conceive and have a stroller from the same country, or some such nonsense.

A year later, and I don’t have much to show for it. I’m still obsessed with strollers, though. In fact, one of the things that gets me about the pregnant friend and the newly pregnant friend is that they’ll get to go shopping for strollers before I do. They’ll get to look at the cool new trends. (Like this, for example, which I’ve been seeing everywhere lately. I know, a double stroller is an even more bizarre obsession. I can’t help it. And don't even ask how long it took me to track this down.) They’ll have strollers, and I’ll be sitting at home looking at the new imports that none of us will actually buy. A crotchety old stroller spinster - that’s me.