"Dear Sandra..."

A Letter From a Friend

By Sandra Joslyn Tallarico

A few weeks ago I received a letter from a good friend of mine who lives out of state. It read something like this, "Dear Sandra, How are you? Is it still raining in Seattle? By the way, I have some wonderful news to share with you – I'm pregnant!"

I mutely stared at it for a few minutes, then walked upstairs to my computer. There I designed and printed out a lovely congratulations card for the happy couple, replete with heartfelt wishes, balloons and fuzzy ducks. I signed my name, and had my husband do the same. Then I went straight to bed.

The next morning, I mailed that card with all its good wishes and ivy borders to my childhood friend, and then promptly went into mourning.

It's not that I wasn't happy for her; I was. I was just bitterly unhappy for myself. How many times has this happened to me? At nearly 31 years of age, many times. You'd think by now I'd have reached some sort of peace with it, an evolved state where I could really be happy for my friends, not feel like my heart has been batter-dipped and fried in scalding oil; but I haven't. Not yet.

The most maddening part, I think, is that I want to feel happy for her – completely happy. It pains me to feel like such a miscreant for resenting her joy. She hasn't had it easy either. Three summers ago she got pregnant on her honeymoon and suffered a miscarriage. She has not been pregnant again, despite two years of trying, until now.

Why should I resent that? Because I haven't gotten pregnant, ever, and I haven't used birth control for something like eight years. And it's .... well, it's JUST NOT FAIR!

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