Last night I had a delicious dinner with my best friend at Amarone.
I had great food and a bunch of wine and at one point said:
“This is so much better than being pregnant.”
And in that moment, i meant it.
It is more fun having drinks and coffee and eating whatever you want. It just is. When you go through 40 weeks of pregnancy and then labor, you get the reward of a baby. When you’re pregnant for eight weeks, have an excruciating loss (both physical and emotional), your reward is booze and food and your life back.
I know that’s a callous and shitty thing to say and it oversimplifies the miracle that is giving birth. I know that.
Suffice it to say, I’m not quite myself yet.
I went to a friend and fellow comic’s surprise 30th birthday tonight and saw a bunch of good friends I hadn’t seen in a while.
“Hey! Did I see that you opened for Jessica in Long Island?”
“I was supposed to host for her and Andy Pitz but I had a miscarriage.”
My friend, a gay man, was so startled he started laughing.
“I love you.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know how else to tell you and I knew I needed a really good reason not to do that show.”
My husband just shook his head and smiled.
“I got my drinking buddy back!”
Because there is no easy way to tell people. Sometimes it’s easier just to say it.
Yesterday, I came home to beautiful flowers from my husband’s parents and his sister and her family. The card is from my best friend. She left it for me as soon as I told her the news last Friday.