This morning my husband and I were talking about all of the people we know who are having babies …

Him: Do you think [The Fisherman’s Wife] will be pregnant within the year?

Me: Almost definitely.

Him: Will that make you sad?

Me: (Pause.) I don’t think so. I think it will make me really happy, but I don’t know.

The Fisherman’s Wife called me recently, really upset, because a friend of hers had gotten pregnant. They’d started trying at the same time. She was beginning to feel like there was something wrong with her and she hated herself for feeling sad at her friend’s good fortune.

I had a similar feeling once. I wanted Mr. Levine to propose so desperately. I’d been waiting for months, could have sworn at every turn that he was about to propose, but he didn’t. Month after month he did not propose. Around that time, The Accountant’s Wife called me to say she and the account had gotten engaged. Of course I was happy, but when I related the news to my boyfriend I started crying. I remember it vividly, sitting in a London Starbucks, drinking a latte from a white ceramic mug, a half eaten bagel sitting on a bit of plastic wrap. She wasn’t even sure that she wanted to get married yet she got a well thought out, romantic proposal from her pretty awesome boyfriend just the same. She’d gotten, effortlessly, what I wanted most in the world. My joy for her and sadness for myself intertwined in a way that made me feel so ashamed.

So when my husband asked me if I would be sad when my good friend gets pregnant, I think what he was really asking was, Are you sure you’re okay with waiting? I think the answer is the same.

Photo reblogged from Mothering.com.