My sister-in-law, K~, is pregnant with her third child. She tried so hard and so long for the second child, I didn't think there would be a third. This news came on the heels of my friend L~'s pregnancy announcement (see Where to Begin?) three entries back. L~, as I've told you, is forty-one. It's her first pregnancy, conceived on her first try.
This is how I found out about K~: I was standing in the parking lot of the food co-op. J~ went inside to begin our shopping, while I finished up a phone call with my brother. When he dropped the news, I had a half-eaten kiwi in one hand, my cell in the other, and I literally could not respond because, suddenly, I was choking on a scrap of kiwi skin. There was a long, awkward (dangerous - maybe I was about to die) silence which I finally broke with coughing, and then a wheezy congratulations, then more coughing, during which I pulled a muscle in my back.
Inside the store, I told J~ the news. "Wow," he said, and hugged me. My eyes were already watery from my near-death experience, but apparently not enough: I burst into tears. Right there between the dairy case and the juices. We were blocking the aisle.
This is self-indulgent, but here it is, here's what I'm thinking: What is wrong with me? Why isn't this happening for us? What the hell! J~ had similar sentiments, though he put it this way: What's wrong with us? Aren't we good people? It's our turn! This, followed by looking ahead into a near future of watching K~, who lives nearby, get more and more pregnant. Baby showers. A birth. Family coming around to see the exciting new life. And us on the sidelines, smiling, keeping our sadness out of the picture, still wishing.