I watched her walk through the door, baby carrier hooked on her elbow and her 2 year old already yelling out for my boys. We were so similar in stage. Age no, stage yes. Babies close, in the toddler trenches together. And yet, because of my age possibly, or years of marriage, I’ve been a little of the “go-to” mom for information, resources and just encouragement. I like it that way. I think some of it is how I’m wired, but the other some might have a little aroma of pride. Ugh.
We settle in, and I can tell she’s having a hard time. We talk and I share some wisdom and encouragement. Then I can just feel it. Something else is up. I’m guessing this might have something to do with our hang out, so I press in.
“What’s up? It seems like something is going on?”
She laughs tiredly and says, “Well. So. I’m pregnant.” Another laugh.
I instantly reach out. “Oh my gosh! Congratulations!”
Looking at her face, I can see the weariness. The desire to be excited but still guarded. It doesn’t seem like her news has been greeted with the same enthusiasm by others that she has shared it with.
We spend the next hour talking through it. She is a fantastic mother and friend, but just needed to hear that she wasn’t a fool. That this was ok. This was more than ok. Three kids under 3.
After she left and the boys went down for their naps, I started to feel the fears settle deeper into my heart. The ones I pushed down when she shared her wonderful news. Here is what they said.
“You. Are. A. Wuss.”
To read the rest of the story click here to head over to Life As Mama for my guest post.