And guess what the most popular topic is as of late? Pregnancy. Yup. It drives me fucking crazy.
The worst part is, when I told her I was seven weeks pregnant (or rather discussed it with her - I don't remember where she had heard it exactly), she was suddenly eight weeks, but insisted that she wasn't ready to tell anyone yet. She also boasted that, oh my god, she had actually planned her pregnancy, unlike all the other girls our age (she's actually a few years younger than me...sigh).
Now, though, she constantly posts about how she's so happy to be taking care of a boyfriend rather than a child, or about how great her life is because she's waiting - mystery baby unmentioned and comments always completely unprompted.
I want to give her the benefit of the doubt and say that maybe she actually was pregnant and something went badly, but I just can't. And I'm really sorry if I'm wrong about that. But she's the type who has had multiple pregnancies (supposedly), though only when she's trying to save a relationship or something of the sort. She hasn't a single baby, and after being mentioned exactly once or twice, the news of said pregnancies is always aloud to fade out until it's forgotten. And then it's never spoken of again.
She's also the type who has always jumped on things and made them her obsession for like two months, but then she gets bored and moves on. And I can't help but think that having a baby is the same thing for her. And that maybe her boyfriend doesn't want a kid or something, and that just drives her crazy. You know?
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Also, at least acknowledge the good points. Our babies are going to bring us cuddles, laughter, that wonderful baby smell. Incredible love greater than anything we've ever experienced before. Overwhelming joy.
I'm glad that she's having fun partying and moving into her new apartment and spending uninterrupted-by-crying time with her boyfriend. I'm glad to hear that she has time to intern on top of her two jobs and that she's finding purpose in a profession. I'm happy for her, really. But my baby boy is going to give me purpose, and while he wasn't planned and I did have to give up late nights and numerous friendships and probably the expectation of having a moment alone from now until he starts kindergarten, I just can't regret him.
And really, there's nothing wrong with that. We all have our lives and we're not all going to live them the same. Can't we just respect each others'?
PS: Please forgive me if this sounds completely insensitive. I'm just so damn bothered by her constant need to make my life seem meaningless just because she's living hers differently.