Remember that post where I told you everyone around me was pregnant? Remember how that makes me a little frustrated, but mostly sad and irritable, even though I’m thrilled for them?
Today was probably the worst day for baby envy in my life.
My co-worker, who is roughly seven and a half months pregnant, officially went on maternity leave. Okay, I’ll miss her, I’m thrilled to meet her baby, and I feel sorry for her (vaguely), as she’s on bedrest for the next six weeks. But in a way, I was a little excited, because with her at home, I wouldn’t be confronted with a very pregnant tummy every day, reminding me of my own not-at-all-pregnant tummy.
And then my other co-worker comes in. Guess what, she says. I have something important to tell you.
Guess who’s seven weeks pregnant?
And guess who has to see ANOTHER growing pregnant belly every single day at work?
To top it all off, they conceived on the first try. I don’t mean the first cycle. I mean on the very. first. attempt.
I don’t think brownies are going to cut it today. I need shoes.