Angry

I’m angry that insurance and money play such big roles in our choices. I don't know for sure that it would necessarily change our course of action, but we wouldn't feel as stuck.

I’m angry that people keep asking “when are you guys having children?” and “Two years of marriage, eh? Time to have a baby!” I’m angry that people think this is any of their business and anything they have a right to talk or ask about. I’m angry that my lady parts seem to be an acceptable topic of conversation.

I’m angry that I overhear people saying, “we’ll have a baby a year or so after we get married” and my first thought is, “don’t be so sure about that.”

I’m angry that my husband’s infertility leaves him with nearly no desire for me. I’m angry that it’s taken away my sex life, too.

I’m angry that when I put enough trust in someone to tell them what’s going on, I hear, “just do IVF,” “you need to just adopt, “ or “stop trying, you’ll get knocked up for sure!”

I’m angry that no one can just consider my feelings and give me a hug and say, “I’m sorry.”
I’m angry it’s so easy for other people.

I’m angry that I have to even worry about my reaction on the day in the unknown future when either my sister or sister-in-law announces they’re expecting.

I’m angry that it consumes my thoughts.

I’m angry that we’re preparing to turn our guest room into a craft room instead of a nursery.

I’m angry that everyone assumes it’s something I’m doing wrong.

I’m angry.