My Beloved and I were just out on our deck, surveying our childless kingdom in all its depressing fall glory, when I noticed something. The people behind us - the ones whom we almost never see and know nothing about, the ones who always have their blinds and curtains firmly closed to the outside world - have a crib. Today one window was radiant in its curtainless glory and just beyond that window is the unmistakable end rail of a crib.
A couple moved into the house two doors down from them a few months ago, and they're having a baby too. I confirmed my suspicion the other day when I saw the mommy and her unmistakable bump wandering around their backyard. It was most certainly not a little extra weight, as I'd been wondering for weeks.
I've had a few months' respite from pregnant bellies and newborn babies since the last of the previous round of pregnant women gave birth in September, but it's starting again. So now I can look forward to a winter of wondering when the next time I'll catch sight of a bulging belly will be.
I am genuinely happy for both of these women, I really am. A baby is the most precious thing in the whole world.
That's why seeing the crib just about killed me.