At The Baby Shower, Someone Asked When We’d Start A Family…

The Elevator and the Escape Room

I don’t even know where to start, but I really just need to get this out of my head because the longer I think about it the more I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. I’ve been up since 3:00 a.m. just replaying the whole thing and I keep going back and forth between wanting to scream and wanting to just disappear for a bit.

I, Gemma, have been married to Randall for three years. We met in a super random way actually, not through work or mutual friends or anything.

Literally, we both got stuck in an elevator at an escape room which sounds like a dumb rom-com thing. It was just awkward silence, bad jokes, and me desperately needing to pee for 40 minutes.

I guess that set the tone for us. It was awkward, weird, and involved too much time in close quarters without a lot of actual romance.

Anyway, I don’t have a ton of close friends, but I have a few people I trust. My family is around; we’re not super close but we text and stuff and see each other on holidays.

Randall has a big family. I mean, I can’t remember half these people’s names and every time there’s a family thing, it’s like a crowd.,

A Crowd of Opinions

There’s this running thing where every event people make jokes about me being the “outsider” or the “serious one” or my personal favorite, “the one with opinions.” It started off like okay, whatever, family ribbing is not my vibe but I can handle it.

Lately, it’s been sharper and more pointed. I can’t tell if it’s me being oversensitive or if they really are getting meaner, but it’s not fun anymore, if it ever was.

The main event was for Ariana, Randall’s cousin, who is having her first baby. There was a baby shower at his mom’s house.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been to one of these, but it’s not like cutesy games and pink cupcakes. It’s more just everyone standing around in the kitchen eating too much cheese and pretending to care about diaper brands.

I got there with Randall and immediately I can feel that weird, heavy vibe. People are too loud but also watching me.

It’s like you’re the only one not in on a joke. I try to just chill, scroll through TikTok on my phone, and make small talk with Ariana who’s actually really nice and not part of the problem at all.

The Breaking Point at the Baby Shower

Then of course, Reagan, Randall’s sister, who’s like a main character in her own mind, swoops in already holding a seltzer. She starts up with her usual, asking if I finally learned how to make their grandma’s pasta salad and telling me my shoes are brave.

They’re Doc Martens, so okay, it was just the usual. I just fake laugh and try to stay in the corner near the window because it’s so hot with all these bodies in one house.

Then someone, I think one of Randall’s aunts, one of the loud ones, asks in that too bright voice:

“So when are you two going to have a baby?”

I swear to God the whole room goes quiet. I hate these questions.

Randall knows this. He knows I don’t want to talk about it in front of a crowd, he knows it’s a sore spot, and he knows I’m not even sure if I want kids.

We’ve talked about maybe someday, but not now, not like this, and not when we’re still figuring stuff out. He always says he’s on the same page, but then he’ll make weird comments about being too young to be a dad.,

He’s 33, which is not exactly a child. So I just shrug and say something:

“Oh, we’re not in a rush.”

But Randall, maybe it was the attention, maybe he’d had a drink, or maybe he just felt like being cruel. He laughs and it’s not a normal laugh; it’s this loud, sharp, almost barking sound.

He says:

“With her, I’d rather stay childless than raise kids with that kind of negativity.”

People actually laugh. Not just polite chuckles, but real laughter like he’s said something genuinely hysterical.

Reagan, who’s always got to get her bit in, goes:

“She’d probably give birth to complaints and breastfeed them drama.”

There’s a pause and then more laughter. I’m just standing there totally exposed, thinking, what am I supposed to do?

I look at Randall and he’s grinning. He is not grinning at me, but at the room, clearly loving being the center of attention.

I say:

“You’re not funny.”

I don’t even raise my voice, I just say it straight. He gives me this smirk and goes:

“Relax, you’re always so sensitive. No wonder I don’t want kids with you.”

I swear I’ve never wanted to slap someone so badly in my life. I didn’t though, I just clenched my fists and stared him down.

Reagan’s still cracking up and someone else muttered something about women these days. I don’t even remember what I was thinking; I just needed out.

I walked toward the hallway planning to just get some air or maybe call my sister. Randall grabs my arm hard.

It was not like it was abusive, just too firm, like he’s trying to stop me from making a scene. He goes:

“Where are you going? Don’t ruin this for everyone.”

I pull away and I don’t even care who hears. I go:

“Touch me again and I will.”

He lets go but his hand lingers a second too long. As I’m leaving, I hear his mom say to him super quiet:

“Control your wife.”