I’m having one of those days where nothing is okay.
Most days, when I see pregnant people, I have no problems. But I know that tonight I have to see a pregnant person that I don’t want to see. And I know 4 (FOUR, FUCKING FOUR?!?!?) people with the same due date I would have had if I had remained pregnant last time. And I love them all. But today, reading my friend’s blog about feeling the baby moving around broke my heart a little lot, even though I know she’s had her own troubles on the way to getting pregnant.
And I keep reading the Internet, which is not helping. People talking about how they knew, as soon as those fucking IVF embryos hit their uterus, they KNEW they were pregnant.
And I can’t help thinking that I’ve spent the past 7 weeks putting myself through this awful physical and emotional hell, and now, when I want to feel something, ANYTHING, I feel nothing. And that nothing makes me sure that it didn’t work. And I hate it.
Let’s just call this “Self-Pity Party Friday.”
