A few weeks ago I met up with an old friend for coffee and she made a peculiar comment about her life that has stayed with me ever since.
After we had finished a few rounds of ‘it’s been too long’ style squealing/hugging/admiring each other’s new haircuts, we settled down in a quiet booth clutching coffees with overly detailed leaf designs in the foam and then proceeded to fill each other in on all the things we’d missed over the months we’d been apart.
After I finished telling her all my big-ticket news items (a work crisis, a near-death houseplant and the fact that I was thinking of making the big change from a side-fringe to a full-fringe) she let me in on some exciting news of her own.
She and her lovely husband had decided they were going to try for a baby.
Except…she didn’t say exactly those words.
In fact, she kind of stumbled and muttered her way through the explanation as her cheeks slowly turned the same shade as the cherry crumble the lady seated in the booth next to us was tucking into.
“Well, we’re trying to….I mean we’ve been trying to….this month…”
The poor girl looked like she was being tortured by a pretty adept big-screen movie villain for a solid five minutes before I finally figured out what she was trying to say and blurted out (very loudly) “YOU’RE TRYING FOR A BABY THAT IS SO EXCITING.”
“Shh!” she scolded me in embarrassment as she looked around at our fellow coffee-goers to see if any of them had clocked my outburst.
(Spoiler alert, they all had. Cherry crumble lady at the next table even went as far as to give my now beetroot-coloured pal a congratulatory thumbs up before turning back to her plate).