This morning, C was talking to an old friend online who got married shortly after we did. I jokingly asked “is she pregnant yet?” and within a few minutes, C confirmed that yes, the friend is (very newly) pregnant.
And – here’s the true story part – I became tearful.
It’s not like we’re even actively trying yet (and don’t get me started on that because I don’t know what the hell I’m going to be like then). It’s just that there have been 3 babies born in the past week, another one in the past two months, and I know deep down inside that if we had all the proper parts (and all worked the way it should), we’d likely have a baby – or be close to having one – by now.
And I’m anxious. Anxious because I don’t know when we can/should start because of the way the economy is still affecting my employment (not a money thing, but a “if I get a new job and we got pregnant quickly I wouldn’t have time to qualify for FMLA” and “if I stay where I’m at, who knows if I’ll have a job in a year”). Anxious because sometimes being an adult feels like being in some kind of crazy race where people try to one up one another with their “Game of Life” milestones (one friend about a year older than we are has two blue pegs in her back seat and another peg on the way – though she also has a blue peg sitting with her in the front seat, which helps signifcantly!).
It does no good to dwell on this because there is a lot of good in my life right now, I’m still young enough to have many child bearing years ahead, and this isn’t a decision about everyone else, this is a decision about us. But DAMMIT I wish we could just “decide” to not use contraceptives and leave the decision to fate a little more (remind me of this in a few months when I complain that fate isn’t allowing me to ttc when I want or how I want or with the results I want).
Nothing’s worse than feeling simulaneoulsy ridiculous and justified.