On a recent outing with four friends, it emerged three of them are probably going to try and get pregnant at the end of the year.
I was uprooted. Floored. Discombobulated. Why had none of them mentioned such a momentous decision to me before? Was I not even going to be consulted?!
Here’s how it went down.
There were five of us in a tiny car, heading to a gig. I was sitting in the backseat between Lucy* and Carrie*.
Daisy*, sitting up front next to the driver, Sarah*, casually mentioned how she and her boyfriend are going to try and get pregnant at the end of the year.
I’m not old-fashioned, but they’re not engaged so it came as something of a surprise to me that they were moving right ahead to the next phase.
“WHAT?!” I demanded. “Does [boyfriend] Dave* agree?”
He did. Next up, it was Sarah. “Oh yeah, we are too,” she said casually as she steered us though Sydney traffic.
She and her boyfriend live in Paris. They’re not married either, and seem to live a glorious, international, peripatetic life.
And they want to add a kid to that?
Next thing I know, Carrie, sitting next to me, pipes up.
“I don’t really want a baby now, but I know future Carrie will, so we probably need to start thinking about it,” she said. She’s getting married soon.
“Well, I… I guess I do too?” I said, bewildered. My boyfriend and I are getting married (for the second time — long story) in April.
We’re in our early 30s, a time at which having a baby isn’t some crazy, we’ll-do-it-later concept. In fact, it’s almost leaving it a bit late.