View Article  31

First, I want to send everyone over to read StellaNova’s beautiful metaphor, The End is Still Darkness.  Beautiful and touching.

So, right now it is 10:28PM.  At midnight tonight I turn 31 years old.  I have never hated my birthday before.  I’m not the type to get upset at getting old.  I wouldn’t be 21 again if you paid me (unless, of course, you paid me enough for IVF! ).  However, this birthday just makes me want to cry.  I don’t want a birthday or a birthday cake or any festivities.  I want a BABY!  I just want to scream into the cosmos – PLEASE, I just want a baby.  I don’t know how I will endure all the well wishing tomorrow.  The thought of plastering a smile on my face for a cake cutting makes me want to call in sick.  Of course, my office mates, god bless them, will just wait until the next day.  I guess I can’t call off forever (can I?).

Our best friends (C&Y) are getting a divorce.  It looks like it is quickly dissolving into an ugly divorce.  They have two beautiful kids.  I feel bad for them one minute and the next I want to slap them sensless (my friends, not the kids!).   Most of all though I just feel that I don’t have the emotional energy to take on their pain.   I have complained here before about  my friends who have abandoned me  because of IF.  I also have to take some blame for being a shite friend.  I’m totally avoiding my one friend (Hi, Z) because I just don’t have the energy to talk to anyone about IF; and I really don’t want to talk about anything else.  When C or Y call I just don’t feel like there is any room on my worry plate to fit their side dish.  This plate is all full with the wonderful main course.

On the menu today:  

Barren Womb with a Desolate Sadness Glaze
Served with Warm Bitterness and Jealousy Compote
All meals served with Whine

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