It is nearly 9am as I write this, after having worked my third 12-hour night shift in a row. I don't know why I want to confess this - perhaps it is because I am deliriously tired. Or maybe it is because I genuinely feel bad for what I did...
The following is a conversation exchanged between Manuel and I the other day:
M: I have news! Guess who's pregnant?
J: Ummm... Who?
M: Somebody we play poker with.
J: Chad and Cindy?
M: Yes! She said she is 8 weeks.
J: *Silence*
Do you know why I was silent? I was silent because I was raging a battle with the green-eyed monster and losing miserably. I was so overcome by jealousy that I was physically/mentally unable to be happy for them. And I feel TERRIBLE for it. I felt terrible even as I was fighting the battle, knowing my first reaction should have been happiness for them, but being unable to look past my own feelings of desperately wanting a baby more than anything in the world.
Does that make me a terribe, horrible, rotten person? I really feel like it does. What kind of person is so self-absorbed that she focuses on her own feelings before those of her friends, who are experiencing one of the happiest times in their lives? I'm pathetic...
So Chad and Cindy, because I know you read this on occasion, I am truly so very very happy for you both and wish you a happy and healthy pregnancy. If you ever have any questions about labor and delivery, I'm your woman to ask, seeing as how that's what I do 12 hours a night... I apologize for my initial reaction, and although I know you never would have known if I didn't say anything about it, I really do feel bad.
Ah... a clean conscience. Now I can sleep.
1 comment:
I wouldn't say you are terrible. That was just a reaction to us not having any luck yet. I know that you ARE happy for them, but you just want to be abe to share in the joy too. It will happen...
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