Family in the fast lane

Despite my love for anarchy and a never-ending childhood, I've always had some conventional idea of the future tucked away in my mind. My close friends and I would all get married after meeting decent partners and establish a successful career. We would put our children in playgroups and watch them grow up together. At night, all the parents would discuss family life over a couple brews. I mean, teas.

But that Lifetime-quality notion always seemed like a distant possibility. The truth hit a bit sooner when one of my closest friends married at 19 and had a baby of her own, irreversibly setting the biological time bomb ticking.

I'd known a lot of girls who had gotten pregnant in their teens. In fact, putting a bun in the oven seemed like a routine ordeal for many people. But they seemed to regard children as just one side effect of having sex, something that came about by chance and would work out some of the time.

My friend actually had intentions of holding a traditional wedding and raising a family. She always used to say that the most important thing a person can do in life is be a good parent, and remains steadfast in those values. The whole ordeal just came a little sooner than any of us expected.

Held in a small church in Albany this past May, the wedding was a small but agreeable affair. My friend Catherine was the bridesmaid. I was deemed official photographer, relying on a borrowed camera and an old tripod that conveniently decided to collapse right as the bride was walking down the aisle.

The mother of the bride came to the wedding in a purple dress and red hat ensemble complemented by a hideous, sequined beach tote. She later said that she bought the bag to discourage thieves from stealing it.

After the ceremony, a mixing bowl of attendants pooled in front of the church, hastily making combinations for every group picture imaginable. Before I could focus the lens, the newly consecrated bride and groom were swept off in a polished blue Cadillac, leaving the church steps scattered with rice and the sound of bells still echoing down the road.

That was in the spring. In November, my friend and her husband came back to Buffalo with a baby.

While preparing parents were busy introducing their child to Nirvana and Neil Young in utero, Catherine and I were still floating in a cloud of disbelief that all of this was happening so soon.

The three of us had gone to the same all-girls private high school, one that encouraged starting a family only after we graduated summa cum laude from an Ivy League college and killed all the competition in our work field, or at least became the trophy wife of a rich business tycoon. We were clueless.

Frantically, Catherine and I began to search the baby section of Kaufmann's for suitable gifts. We melted before the tiny satin dresses lined with roses, the pink sleepers covered in baby chicks. Then we remembered that she was having a boy.

So we melted instead over the tiny corduroy overalls and pastel blue teddy bears. I thought about having my own little baby, showering it with affection and gifts. Then I realized that I was the one who wanted stuffed animals, not my progeny.

Thanksgiving break came, and I finally got to meet the new addition to the family. Tiny little Alexander Steven, peaking sleepily out of his little carrier, was the cutest thing I had ever seen. He was dressed in a fuzzy white sleeper like a little snowball, squinting his eyes in an attempt to size up his surroundings. I picked him up and he fell asleep against my shoulder, warm and sweet and completely helpless.

It was official: my friend was now a mom. And in a way, I felt that we had all attained a rite of passage over the crazy segue into permanent adulthood.

I really commend both parents. Their unconditional love for Alex puts him over every other need. They're still adjusting to the dramatic change in lifestyle, but somehow manage to make ends meet at the end of the day.

The arrival of Alex was shocking, and I didn't even have the baby. But the peculiar matrimony, the good intentions and the affection shared amongst the little family of three all gave a glimpse into something really beautiful.