Highly Probable First Words of Anxious Babies Immediately After Leaving the Womb
“Sorry to bother you.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m three weeks early. You know what? I’m just gonna go back inside for a while and let you know get on with your day. I’ll come back at a more reasonable time. Better yet, you call me when you’re ready.”
“I really hope the marriage is solid.”
“I swear I’ll cover the copay.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Charlene. Can I call you Mom or would that be weird?”
“It’s my actual nightmare. I showed up to work wearing no pants.”
“Does this afterbirth make me look fat?”
“I feel so bad about just barging into your lives like this. I swear, I’ll be out of your hair in 18 years. Twenty-five tops.”
“How are you guys feeling about the election?”
“Did I eat my twin? I’d feel awful.”
“I need to talk to my therapist.”
“This is nothing like what the brochures said it would be.”
“This birth is brought to you by BetterHelp.”
“I feel like I’m forgetting something. Where are my plastic toy keys?”
“Do you guys have a good all-purpose cleaner? Maybe some strong stain-remover? I have this sinking feeling that I’m going to be vomiting a lot in the next few months.”
“You guys got rid of the dog, right?”
“I read this article in The Atlantic about mindfulness techniques for new parents. I’ll send you the link. It might be useful when I’m up screaming for the next 72 hours.”
“Sorry for all the stretch-marks. They really don’t look that bad, it’s just the harsh hospital lighting.”
“Charlene, I’m starting to think this whole thing was a mistake. I mean, who do I think I am just showing up unannounced? It’s rude when guests do it, imagine how it looks when a helpless baby does it? I suppose you did have 9-months give or take a few days to prepare for me, but who can really prepare for their entire life to change in a few minutes? Or, in your case several grueling hours (sorry about my 99th-percentile head). I’ll try my best not to poop every half-hour and drool all over your designer clothes. Maybe don’t wear designer clothes, like ever again. I won’t be picky with what I eat, but a heads up that I really hate apple sauce. I just hope one day I earn the privilege of calling you Mom. What are we all doing here, anyway?”
“Can I go back inside?”
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Bobbie Armstrong is a former child, current writer and student. Her work has appeared on McSweeney’s, Slackjaw, Belladonna Comedy, Little Old Lady, and her parents’ fridge. Follow her existential crisis @bobbien_
