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| Typical baby shower graphic. Please note the presence of a pregnant belly, and the absence of copy of approved homestudy/openness agreement/ and guests including adoptive parents, judges, social workers, foster parents, etc... |
Last night I had the priviledge of attending a "celebrity baby shower" in downtown Vancouver. I won tickets from The Beat to attend a baby shower for their pregnant morning show host Nira Arora.
It ended up being a feel good, charity diaper drive event held at Absolute Spa in the Century Hotel. Guests got spoiled - free spa treatments, make-up sessions, and tons of fun party games were promised. The icing on the baby cake was a trip for four to Mexico. (Sadly, I did not win. I call conspiracy, but that's another story.)
When I won the event tickets, I called up a good girl friend - one that is terrified of parenthood and has no immediate, or longterm plans for motherhood. Perfect. We could talk about school or work or vacations if the baby stuff became too much for either of us.
I was a bit trepidacious because I hadn't been to a baby shower in a couple of years. In fact, one of the lasts one I attended was my own. Just over two years ago we celebrated our brand new, seven-month-old bundle of joy.
I wondered how much obvious disparity I'd feel between my own shower and the one offered for this expectant mom. Would the games, as usual, focus overtly on the pregnancy? When showers are hosted prior to the child's birth or adoption, it's hard NOT to put the emphasis on the parent-to-be.
I knew I'd be talking to other women - many of them mothers, some of them expecting, and honestly didn't want to have to explain to total strangers (or on-air personalities) that the reason I had no serious strech marks or opinions on VBacs or breast-feeding bras or belly bands was because it never applied to me.
Don't get me wrong, I adore pregnant bellies and newborn nieces and nephews and am just as excited to hear a friend's pregnancy announcement as I am to hear that a child has come home through adoption. The problem is, I have adoption on the brain, and events which highlight the differences between biological and adoptive parenting don't ease the adopt-o-cephalus I'm experiencing.
You see, I've been to showers where attendees must guess the number of linked toilet paper sheets required to circumnavigate the pregnant belly. I've been asked to contribute to a pie chart of pregnancy cravings. I've lent my wedding band to a party host who dangled my ring over an expanding belly, and feigned interest as she chanted something in pig Latin and rolled my eyes quietly as she announced, "She's having a boy! No, a girl! Um... well, one or the other for sure!"
I've played "pin the baby on pregnant lady" or, worse "pin the sperm on the egg". I've even heard of parents who've been asked bring baby photos of themselves and their children. The purpose? For other guests to match up mother-to-child. (Um, excuse me, if we're guessing based on looks the adoptive family is NOT going to win this round! Or maybe they will, if the point is to stump the entire crowd.)
I've heard guests exchange whispered horror stories of their own deliveries - "LOOK at her. She's as big as a house. Hope she's having an epidural."
I would like an epidural, please.
What happened last night ... was actually surprising. There were games, like match the celebrity to their children... but guess what? At least 1/3 of that list included adoptive families. There was focus on mom and baby bump, of course, but nothing that offended the highly critical eye of this adoption advocate.
Darn it, I actually had a good time! I even took home a spa gift bag for generating the longest list of baby items in a five minute period. 65 items, thank you very much - and none of them were specific to biological parenting!
So while I did not win the trip to Mexico (I'm still waiting for a jelly bean re-count, Beat executives!) I had a REALLY great time at a baby shower. Although I doubt it was planned this way, it was perfectly respectful of all types of parenting. I even got a free foot massage to finish the night.
Hmm. I might not need that epidural after all.
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