I had plans today to meet a girlfriend for lunch. As I was driving to the restaurant to meet her, I remembered that just a few days ago she told me she was pregnant. I think I must've blocked it from my short-term memory.
Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled that this couple is pregnant. They are wonderful people and good friends, and it's their first baby, so it's not like I have a big resentment as I sometimes do when I hear of second and third babies coming along (sorry, but it truly is an involuntary reaction).
Anyway, as soon as I made the realization that I'd have to face her in person and see her growing pooch, I started having to take deep breaths because I got a weird feeling in my stomach.
Having to ask a newly pregnant woman how she's feeling, if she can still wear her regular clothes or if she'll find out the sex is about as hard for me as it is for Jon Gosselin to look like a devoted husband, father and stand-up guy. And, while it is hard enough to ask the interested questions, it's almost more difficult to hear the answers.
I can't relate to any answers, and find myself saying things like, "Oh yeah, me, too. I'd totally find out the sex if I could get pregnant." Or, since I can't throw in my own anecdotes, I use ones from my sister or friends. "You know, vitamin E is best for preventing stretch marks." Whaa- whow - just call me Debbie Downer.
I made it through lunch unscathed. Like I said, I adore this couple and truly am happy for them.
And, what was in the water last April? Tons of people I know are due in February. Must've missed out on some fertile H2O.