You will be showing me a photo of your child.
You will tell me your colleague has gone on maternity leave.
You will mention your, or somebody else’s offspring on your blog, on your Facebook status, on your Twitter feed, and I will happen to read it.
You have or have had children growing up in your house, and my mind will drift across that fact.
And almost all of the time this is fine.
But sometimes it isn’t.
And even then, I know how to deal with it. I can cope, I have been doing this long enough.
Except sometimes I can’t.
Especially when I’m having to shoot up with hormones daily.
Partly it’s pure jealousy, but also I recognise abject fear. This goal that I’ve been aiming for for so, so long, what if I miss? What if I hate it? What if I just can’t do it?
I love to hear about kids, they’re great, and that’s a big part of why I really want to have my own.
Most of the time.