The Day Everybody Had A Baby But Me

It happened on a Sunday. Nobody expected it. We didn't know where they came from, but there they were. The babies. The Doorstep Babies as the newspapers called them. On that crispy Sunday morning every household had a baby wrapped in blankets in an almost biblical basket lying on their doorstep. Except me. To begin with I was relieved. There was so much panicking in those early days. Where did these babies come from? Who had given them away? Who was supposed to care for them? Because of the massive amounts of babies the government allowed for people to take care of them instead of having to create a million institutions. Most people actually did take the babies in while the investigations went on. Old couples suddenly had a newborn in their house again, the janitor of my building took care of a little boy and the mayor who just had twins now had an extra tiny mouth to feed. Of course some people were not at all fit to take care of a baby and gave it to their neighbor or a family who'd made an ad about being able to take in more babies. The investigations came to a dead end a year after the Doorstep babies arrived and at this point the janitor had named his boy Jackson, the old couple had become very fond of their little Mary and the mayor registered his Phillip as his own. But I didn't get a baby. As I said, I was relieved to begin with. But then I started wondering. Was there a special reason I hadn't gotten one? Did somebody not think I could take care of a baby? Was I missing out? I'd spent a lot of time babysitting and helping out in some of the emergency centres. Was this my role? All the new parents always told me how jealous they were of me, being able to go home and get a good night's rest every night. In contrast I wondered how it was to wake up by a little chubby hand grabbing your index finger. I wondered what it was like to bond with someone who all of a sudden appeared in your life like that. How 'the baby' became 'Lil' Jackson' or 'the girl' became 'our dearest Mary.' My life hadn't changed much. I'd gotten a promotion at work because some of my colleagues stepped down to focus on their new family. But other than that, I still just went home after work. Worked out or watched movies. Except for the afternoons I babysat or volunteered. Most single men had become dads now so the dating scene had changed immensely too. In a way I felt excluded, left behind on this 'life journey' everybody around me went on, but on the other hand I'd loved my life as it was before that Sunday and hadn't planned on changing it. But the Doorstep Babies made me think that maybe one day if it happened again I'd like to be included.