Pet pic no replacement for real kid

With my 34th birthday coming up fast, I've got to admit that my stance on childbearing is softening a bit.

Back in the day, when my other childless friends would self-deprecatingly say they were "too selfish" to have kids, I'd take off on a rant that made them regret it.

"That's not being selfish!" I'd insist. "People's reasons for having kids are what's selfish. Think about it. 'I want to have a little piece of my husband and I that lives on.' 'I want someone who loves me unconditionally.' 'Our lives would be more complete with a baby.' Now THAT'S selfish!"

Frankly, those reasons are starting to whisper inside my head a little bit these days.

Maybe that's why I took Maggie to get her picture made with Santa.

Maggie is our tabby cat. (We used to have two, but the older one died awhile back.) Maggie sleeps with us, watches TV with us, talks with us -- in short, she's the child we never had.

I didn't go to cover the local Humane Society's pet pictures with Santa fund raiser with the intention of getting one taken, but the idea grew on me as I saw the other crazy pet owners doing it. Santa and the photographer were so patient and nice, and the animals were just so adorable with their Christmas bandanas and reindeer horn headbands.

I called The Other Half. "Can you bring Maggie down here? I want to get her picture made with Santa."

Mr. Half is a good man, so he wordlessly brought the cat, who was absolutely traumatized by the whole experience. We had to take the cage apart to get her out. After the picture was over, she came away with large chunks of Santa's synthetic beard in her claws.

I can't wait to pick up the proofs on Friday.

Picture day was about the time I figured out that my biological alarm clock was going off. Hard. And it was time to win The Other Half over to my point of view.

Luckily, my co-worker, Scott, and his wife brought their adorable newborn by the office on Monday. Mr. Half was there.

"Isn't the baby beautiful?" I said. "Look! He'll squeeze your finger with his little hand."

"Uh-huh," Mr. Half said. He was SO not touching the baby.

"Look at his little Nike booties!" I tried.

"Uh-huh," Mr. Half said.

Almost anything in the world would have received more of a reaction.

The worst part is, apparently I've been taking the fall for our childless status. My in-laws are great about it, but after seeing their son in nearly nine years of marital bliss, they're starting to wonder about grandchildren and said so last week.

"Talk to your son," I said. "I've been asking him about it."

Mr. Half hemmed and hawed desperately before fleeing with some shoddy excuse about getting more iced tea.

One friend called him a "baby atheist." "He doesn't believe in them," she said. "You'll just have to wait until he sees the light."

Another advised me to just get pregnant -- what he doesn't know about birth control failure won't hurt him. "He'll get on board," she said. "You'll see."

I don't want to start out parenthood with a giant lie between us. It's bad karma.

Until we get all this sorted out, I have to think there are a lot more pet pictures in our family's future. And maybe some more pets.

Poor Maggie.

Heidi Hall is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.