I’m feeling like a proper cow at the moment, because I’ve avoided (read = told a white lie) a lunch, so I don’t have to spend time with a colleague’s brand new bub.
Milestones are shitty things, right? They put little markers in place that remind us of what’s moved on … or, in my case, what hasn’t.
So, when people who were married when or after Mr Bun and I were married fall pregnant, I don’t cope. And that’s this couple. We each met our respective partners at the same time, bought houses at the same time, and were married at the same time. When they gleefully announced their pregnancy (THAT’S another story), it shook me right up. And now I’m avoiding lunch because I’m in a crap mood and don’t have the energy to coo over their little girl.
I’m surrounded my blossoming bellies.
I work with a lot of women, and it’s the cruel law of averages that sees an announcement ripple through the office every quarter or so. A squeal, a hug, the downcast eyes to an already swelling tum … it can really hurt if I haven’t got my armour swaddled tough and tight.
There’s no rhyme or reason to whether an announcement stings or not.
OK. That’s bullshit. There is – it just isn’t pretty. Want to know? Sigh. This is when I start sounding like a cow as well as feeling like one.
If I don’t like them. If I’m jealous, or competitive, or any other one of those energy-wasting negative emotions that I have (‘cos I’m human) – then the announcement stings. Oooh, does it hurt: real salt and lemon juice in the wound.
I know that’s pathetic. I, of all people, know what a miracle having a child is. But sometimes, there’s that person – that one person that you can’t stand hearing those words about … “Oh, did you hear?”
How am I meant to cope in those circumstances?
(Image thank you: tim green)