I don't like pregnant women any more. The sole exception is my friend C. Because we tend to think along the same lines in pregnancy and she's been pretty sensitive to me. Because it's all about me, obviously.
I especially don't like being asked to be near them or newly born babies.
I don't want to hear stories about trying to conceive unless it's been long and agonizing because then, I don't mind being around you so much.
I've got no problems with you if you've had previous losses or infertility - because then you're my kind of people. We can look at each other and nod.
Women who get pregnant really easily or have 'oops' babies? I can't stand them right now.
It's awful. It's unattractive. It's ridiculous because I know, I know, how hard pregnancy is regardless. I know what a big life change it is, I know how carefully made plans falling aside can be horrifyingly big deals and . . . I know.
I sort of despise myself for the bitterness that can flood up in me. I sometimes have to stop myself from giving dirty looks.
It's solely a result of envy and disappointment. Neither of which are healthy or desirable emotions. Both of which I am ashamed of feeling ever in regards to something as happy as new life.
I know that another woman's pregnancy has nothing to do with my lack thereof or bad luck in pregnancy. I know that I truly wish every woman gets to remain blissfully ignorant and unaware that disaster and utter desolation are lurking right around the corner and that they are in no way immune because of any thing they have done or are doing or haven't done. Death doesn't care if you never smoked or drank a sip of alcohol or that you faithfully took your folic acid and ate your vegetables and slept on your left side.
I see it lurking all around, tragedy waiting to strike. It hides just out of view in the aisles of stores, it haunts these happy naive, you can just catch a glimpse if your turn your head, if you look me in the eyes. I fear I'm a bad luck charm, that I summon these ghosts and demons as my companions. If nothing else, I remind you of what is out there and I can't stay my lips. I want to implore you to please appreciate what you have and please don't take it for granted and assume it's a sure thing. Listen to the warnings that fall from my lips, but I'm a Cassandra, a speaker of doom that is not believed and truly of doom that may never appear.
Because what I can never remember is that I am the small minority, the statistical anomaly, the place that lightning struck. The rest of the world is fine.