I found out two days ago that a very close friend of mine is pregnant. While I’d like to say I’m nothing but thrilled, that would be a lie. See, husband and I have been trying to have a baby for almost two years, with no luck. It seems that I really shouldn’t have bothered “not trying” for so many years, since its really not as easy (for me) as falling off the back of a truck.

It was that easy for her. So she told me and I said all the right things. And then I got off the phone and cried. And cried. And cried. And now, I’m avoiding her. I haven’t e-mailed her and I know I should send her a card. And I will. I am happy for her, but sad for me.

So I plunge myself into my work and it provides comfort and relief. Right now, my little fledgling firm is my baby. I get up in the morning and sift through paperwork, make lists of things that need to be done. I tend to its needs and when there is trouble, I rush to fix it, just like a good mommy would.

And I wait to go to the doctor.

I go five times a month. I get there at 7:00 am and the waiting room is already filled with women. Older women, very young women, black, white, asian. Its amazing and depressing and comforting all at the same time.

I don’t make short or long term plans. Florida in May? Well, make sure the timing is right because what if its time for dr. visit? Or a procedure? New suit for summer? What if I’m pregnant (wish wish)? Buy a four bedroom house? What if its always empty? What if its always just us.

I never thought this would happen to me. I always thought, hey, when I’m ready it will happen. Well, that’s not how life works. There are some things not in my control.

So I try to accept this lack of control, and make sense of it.

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.