In June 2013, we went to a 2-year-old birthday party. Later, the birthday girl's mom posted pictures of the event, and even now, I cannot look at them. Because this was the day my first miscarriage started. I was half-expecting it - the ultrasound scan did not show anything but the fetal pole on my 7th week - but still the spotting came as a horrible blow.
On this party, the birthday girl's mom asked the ladies present if they are planning to have a second child. Well, it's been almost two years. Every single fucking woman from that party is either pregnant of have had a second baby recently. Every fucking one.
Except me.
And I seriously need to go offline. Hate is not healthy and not productive, but sometimes it's the only thing I feel. And yes, I hate myself for being like this, too.
On this party, the birthday girl's mom asked the ladies present if they are planning to have a second child. Well, it's been almost two years. Every single fucking woman from that party is either pregnant of have had a second baby recently. Every fucking one.
Except me.
And I seriously need to go offline. Hate is not healthy and not productive, but sometimes it's the only thing I feel. And yes, I hate myself for being like this, too.
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