I just found out a few weeks ago that my friend H is expecting. She’s now 15 weeks and due around Thanksgiving. I’m really excited for her–I know she has been wanting a baby for a long time.
H is a friend from my knitting group, and we’ve only known each other for a little over a year. She’s not yet a super-close friend, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know her. It was no surprise that H was ready for a baby, so the news of her pregnancy was expected, if not assumed. In fact, H and her new husband just got engaged on New Year’s Day, and the first time I saw her after their engagement I asked her if they had thought about a date. She said straight away that they wanted to get married soon, in the spring, so that they could start a family. One of the knitting girls joked that they should go ahead and start trying. H acted as if this had already crossed her mind, but perhaps they would wait until a little closer to the wedding to make the math a little less obvious.
For some reason, this bothered me at the time. When I learned they had set the wedding date for early April, I came home pouting to Tim, “They’re going to have a baby before us.”
“I didn’t know it was race,” Tim said.
It’s not. Still, I couldn’t help feel a twinge of jealousy. Knowing H would most likely get pregnant before me was bothersome. It was also petty–childish. Did I think her pregnancy would take away from me? Was it because I wanted to be the special one? I don’t know. I realized the selfishness of my feelings, but they were still there. It is not a race. Nor a competition.
Now that it’s May and the news of H’s pregnancy is real, I don’t feel jealous. Maybe it’s because I know how helpful it will be to a have a friend nearby who goes through it all right before me. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Tim and I are now actually trying.