I announced my pregnancy first. But she was also pregnant. Trying to wait because she’s superstitious. I found out when her husband outed her at a gathering. He was just too excited to keep the news in.
We walked together hand in hand for 9 months. We wondered about these tiny creatures growing in our bodies. There were times when we were texting, tweeting, and on Facebook chat together simultaneously.
She was the one I bounced baby names off of.
Towards the end, we decided to race to see who’d deliver first.
She won. A beauty named Micah joined his big sisters.
I lost and owe her a batch of cookies.
Two weeks later, Lola joined our family.
She was the one of the first ones to know after Lola was born.
She sent “herbs for my cooch” leftover from when her baby was born. She sent thoughtful gifts for Malone and Lola. And she managed to bust out a batch of her grandmother’s chocolate chip shortbread.
Sometimes, she’s the last person I talk to (text) at night, and the first one in the morning. She blesses me on a daily basis with her support, encouragement, and friendship.
She’s one of my balcony people. Someone who is always celebrating and cheering with me while I do life.
She’s the voice of reason when I’m upset and holds a lot of my secrets close to her heart.
She’s in my time zone. But in a different state and area code.
I wish SHE lived closer to me.
And I write this so she knows just how much SHE means to me.