I have to walk into my parent's church holding a child that is not mine. I know the explanation is too outlandish to be believed about why I have a baby in my arms. Still, I sheepishly walk in (late) to the Sunday School class and make my way to the back as everyone stares.
I see faces I recognize and a few hushed whispers reach my ears.
As soon as I sit down, the damn ball of flesh starts crying. It's not loud, but oh it's there. I try to hush the child. Nothing works. I'm getting anxious and sweating a little. Makeitstopmakeitstop!