I love to torture myself apparently.
We went down to NYC this past weekend to do some visiting, stay with some of our closest friends, take in the 'fresh' cool air as we walked from the West Village to the East Village, and eat soup dumplings in Chinatown. We also went to meet babies. Two new babies. I was prepared, I wasn't surprised, I recognized the feelings of desperation - but I knew I had to do it. I AM an adult after all and that's what adults do. Meet, smile, coo and bounce the new babies of friends. ugh. It was hard. Both babies were from friends my own age, who started trying after we did. We've been lapped in pregnancy, birth and now into mommyhood and we're not even out of the fucking starting gate. And now we're headed to the last resort. That last negative hpt killed me. I have to admit, I had to leave the "shower" to get myself together, clear my head, stop the tears, and smoke a cigarette. Pathetic, right? I still have a pit of sadness in my stomach.
I love my friends, I wish them both happy sleepy darling healthy babies. This will get easier, right? S., my friend, is a reader - please don't be offended, upset or worried. This is MY issue to get over. I do love my friends, just not their babies. Joking. mostly.