September is a hard month for me.
Five years ago, I was pregnant for the first time. I remember that I found out on a Friday, the day we were having a social at a wine bar. I tested early in the morning, while G. was still asleep, and I woke him up with happy tears.
I thought the worst thing that could happen at that point was a miscarriage.
I wish I could go back to that innocence.
A friend recently posted on social media that she was struggling with the idea of never having children. She is not a candidate for IUI, isn’t a big fan of state adoption (at this point), and her sister, who at one point had offered to be a surrogate for her, is going through her own grief right now.
Talking to her just reminded me of how desperate and angry I was/am.
I’ll have to come back to this. Time for dinner here!