I’m having a selfish moment; please indulge me.
Right now, I really, really, really want to be pregnant. Sigh.
My childhood friend’s little sister is pregnant, 18 weeks. She’s having complications, and I do feel for her. She is a labor-and-delivery nurse, and she was supportive during my complications. In fact, she said one of the best things anyone could have; when Ander was born so early, weighing just 1 lb, 9 oz, she messaged me: “Wow! So big! You did such a great job, mama!”
While everyone else was focusing on how small he was (read: how I failed him), she noted that in fact, he was a pretty good size for a 24 weeker (read: I had done a good job nourishing him while I could). So she will always hold a special place in my heart. Plus, her young dog just died tragically. Did I mention that her first fiance died of a brain tumor? (She married her current husband three years after her fiance died). So I really, really want her pregnancy to go well. Basically, this woman deserves some GOOD.
Yet: she’s having complications. Her placenta isn’t functioning properly; her baby may be IUGR; there have been some weird blood tests and fluid leakage; she will be on bed rest starting at 24 weeks. Despite this, the selfish me said: ARGH! Her older sister (my friend) is due with her second in a week! And now her younger-than-us sister is pregnant TOO? So their mom will have three grandbabies, and mine will have none? (Our moms have been friends since they met in Lamaze class, pregnant with me and childhood friend). How colossally UNFAIR. Plus: my poor mother. Her friend isn’t the most sensitive about the not-bragging thing.
Some days, I don’t like myself. I am jealous of a lovely woman who has had such hardship and is having complications similar to mine. What have I become?