Is there some kind of pheromone that goes out every few years, serenading the women I know, causing them to all drift moth-like toward the same flame?
First it was the marriage flame. Admittedly, I was probably the first moth at that particular fire – at the tender age of 21-years-and-two-weeks old – but a huge cadre of my friends and acquaintances followed soon after.
Next, it was the first-baby flame. When I got pregnant with Smooch, I was in good company. No fewer than nine of my close friends (living all over the country) were pregnant at the same time, and we all gave birth within about six months of each other.
And lately? There’s a new pheromone on the breeze. Second babies are happening everywhere I go. Just this morning, a friend emailed a big group of us to apologize for not making it to playgroup the last few weeks – morning sickness is keeping her down. My friend in Connecticut just had her “gender scan” and found out she’s having a girl. Mrs. Chicken just found out she’s having a boy! Everywhere I go, it’s bumps and bellies and babies.
The sad thing is, my pheromone-sensing-moth-flocking apparatus seems to be on the fritz. I want to be fluttering to that flame, gestating it up with the rest of my pals. But it’s not happening. I’m not surprised, really – it took two and half years to get successfully pregnant the first time. I’ve had three miscarriages altogether. For me, there’s two hurdles – the getting knocked up, and then the staying knocked up. Some of you know what I mean. And when you’re in that club, you know that every pregnancy announcement, every ultrasound picture, is a little bit of a punch in the gut. I’m here to testify that it is PERFECTLY POSSIBLE to be over-the-moon thrilled and excited for your friend and simultaneously sad and angry for yourself. I’m doing okay this time, so far. We’ve only been trying for a few months, so the real desperation hasn’t set in yet. I am honestly, truly, really happy for my pregnant friends.
I just want to get back in the club. I want to be a moth at that flame, not some kind of freak ladybug on the outside.