I have things I want to write about, in particular the craziness that runs through my head when I can’t sleep at night, but that takes time, and time is in short supply this week.
A few months ago, I ran into a woman I recognized from grad school at the drugstore. We weren’t close friends then, but we were friendly, and we’ve exchanged a few emails since then. Yesterday, in response to an email about our class reunion (five years already! how’d that happen?), she casually announced her (second) pregnancy.
I got that sharp pang of bitter jealousy that I remember so well from the days Before Gatito (B.G.), but which I thought I would avoid this time around. Maybe it was worse coming on the heels of yesterday’s bad news about the beta. I ignored her email, feeling too hateful to wish her congratulations.
Today, I got another email, this time inviting the family to dinner on Saturday night. At first I thought I wouldn’t go. But I really don’t want to do this again. God. I just do not want to allow the fact of her pregnancy prevent me from developing a (sorely needed) local friendship. I don’t want to be who I was B.G., or to feel what I felt. This feels like a test: Do I cross the line into bitterness, or do I suck it up, be grateful for the gorgeous, healthy child I have, and go have dinner?
Before I could think too much longer about it, I offered to bring dessert.
