By Mama Michele, Barefoot & Pregnant
I was standing in the checkout line at Target last week seething as the woman in front of me gushed over her baby items. "Look at this adorable dress for my granddaughter. And she is going to love this blankee. It's our first grandchild. I'm so excited," she says to me, as if I give a hoot.
I see pregnant women everywhere. And not just in the usual places. I started avoiding the baby-danger zones long ago. But somehow pregnant women find me. At the grocery store and the park. In my inbox each time someone I even remotely know has a baby. At my place of work where we host a baby shower almost weekly. It's like the Universe is playing a practical joke on the infertile girl by seeing how many baby encounters it can shove my way.
And there's no one to blame but myself. I got pregnant on my honeymoon and bragged about it excessively. I was proud of my fertile 40-year-old self and couldn't wait to share the news with anyone who would listen. ForRead More »from Angry Infertile Girl