I have a radar. That’s right. A sixth sense that is so keen and so on that it actually freaks me out.
I can detect a pregnant friend or stranger sometimes before they even have it confirmed.
I suppose after three years of trying every (and I do mean EVERY) method available to try to conceive, I have developed an ability to hone in on the signs of those with a bun in the oven. It’s hard to explain — a cold sweaty hollow feeling slowly creeps over me and tunes me into the radar. More often than not, the feeling is confirmed and progresses sort of like someone sucker punches you in the stomach (but you have to act like it’s the most wonderful thing ever).
Last weekend we attended a wedding. During the LONG (full catholic mass) ceremony my eyes wandered around the crowd. My radar was on full alert and registering baby bumps in every direction. Cold sweats in full swing, I whispered somewhat jokingly to my hubby that I bet there would be at least two bubbly pregnants stuck at our assigned table during dinner (formal sit-down no doubt). Just the thought of it made me down two kentucky-sized glasses (aka – 1/2 bottle in a glass) before we even sat down at the table at the reception.
Apparently the fertility gods were not pleased with my alcohol consumption because my random joke turned into my reality. On my right, pregnant girl #1. To my husbands left, pregnant girl #2. both wearing the wedding pregnancy black dress “uniform”. Across from me a third girl, my savior I hoped. She was cute, had on a somewhat fashionable (albeit black) outfit and was holding what appeared to be a vodka drink. Sigh of relief. But wait — she refused wine on the first pass, refused offer from a drink from the bar from my husband and then smiled while pointing to her belly. I kid you not. All three of the girls at our table of 7 people were pregnant!!! Fortunately my bottle of wine wasn’t turning me into my typical sappy emotional drunk that evening. instead I was in a “you have to be fucking kidding me” overly happy mood. And when the waiter came by offering champagne for the toast (which they all declined) I told him not to worry to just pour their glasses for me. I drank my glass followed by each of their glasses. It was a great idea….at the time.
Let me just say I felt fantastic the next morning…when ironically enough I had to attend a baby shower for a dear “fertility” friend (note: only go to baby showers when it’s a best friend or fellow fertility friend). Thank goodness for wet baby showers where i enjoyed a nice “hair of the dog.”