Today I got the phone call I've been praying for and dreading at the same time. My best friend in the world is pregnant. First cycle, first try. Her husband came home from Iraq and she was knocked up within two weeks.
We live 3,000 miles away from each other, but we share everything. We even got married 1 day apart. We've talked for the last year about how much we both want to get pregnant and when we would start trying. I'm the first person she's told about the pregnancy. She hasn't even told her mom yet.
I'm thrilled for her. Legitimately, 100% thrilled. I'm happy that it was so easy. She deserves it. She and her husband are both doctors in the Navy. They were apart for 7 months while he was stationed in Iraq. She was up for deployment herself sometime next year if she didn't get pregnant. I am so glad this happened like this. I'm so glad this could be easy for her.
But I'm... I'm sad too. I don't want things to be harder for her, I want them to be easier for me. We've always talked about having kids the same age who would be best friends, just like we are. I'm afraid that now that I know she's pregnant, I'm going to be even crazier about my time-tables and deadlines.
The good thing is 1) she's a doctor and 2) she knows all about my getting-pregnant wackiness. So in the midst of a long, happy phone call all about her symptoms, and how she found out, and the names they like, and who they're telling when, I also asked her if it was normal for it to take longer, like it is with me. And we both finished the phone call saying that I'll be pregnant sometime in the next 6 months.
I just hope I get to join her on the other side, as one of the pregnant ladies soon. And I'm scared I won't.
Reinvention of a blog
6 months ago