So it's probably no secret to those close to me that I'd like to have another baby... and lately it seems like pregnant women are following me. Through the grocery store, next to me at the gas station, in restaurants and the mall... They seem to point their bellies at me, casually stroking their unborn or resting their hands just above those bumps of teeny tiny wiggly little beings... Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but seriously, today I went to lunch with one of my oldest and dearest friends and literally in the time we were there, which was maybe 25 minutes, 4 pregnant women came in; probably following the cravings of pregnancy to the nearest Subway. And this is not a busy Subway. We laughed about having to either be pregnant or geriatric to eat there today.
And it's not just in my real life that this is happening. I swear every day for the past 6 months I get on Facebook and see that someone had their baby the previous night, or just announced that they're expecting- not to mention those who are in the middle of that long road to parenthood for either the first time or possibly the fifth... Just the other day I logged on to see that a friend recently discovered that she's having twins. (Did I mention I'd LOVE to have twins?? Call me crazy...) She's a gorgeous mama- patient and loving and genuine. These two babies will be her 5th and 6th and no doubt just as beautiful as her others.
Every time someone announces a pregnancy, I send up a few prayers (ok, more than a few, I might be a little obsessed with it) that their babies will be strong and healthy and able-bodied. It doesn't matter if the mom-to-be is my sister, an old friend, or someone I barely spoke to from middle school- it's always the same feeling that goes through me... Maybe some surprise, then undoubtedly a happiness that comes only with the news of a new life, some jealousy (I won't lie!), and then the hope that the new little bundle of cells with grow and develop just the way it should.
Of course I'm happy when someone is happily sharing news of a new addition to their family. It's a step that should be shared with smiles, perhaps some happy tears, and congratulations all around. It's just that with every "I'm pregnant!" I hear from those around me, I relive the news of London's diagnosis, or I see her in her crib, jerking her arms forward, her very first seizure... I think about how hospitals smell, and the weight of the air in the neurologists office. I recall having to puncture her flawless, pale, perfect skin with needles and pump steroids into her fragile little legs because there was a small chance of it taking her seizures away. I remember getting her wheelchair or her leg braces; I think about sitting in the waiting room as she had surgeries or procedures done and being with her in the recovery room, with wires and tubes going out every which way from her little body. I count her doctors. I think about the relationships I've made with complete strangers in different countries, all because our kids just happen to have the same rare disorder.
It's not hard to be happy for my friends, it's just so hard to NOT be sad for what we've missed out on.