I'm human. I can't have kids at this point. I want to be so very happy for all the pregnant people, all the people with little ones. And in a way I AM happy for them. But I'm also sick to my stomach when I walk by the newborn section in the store. Part of me dies a bit when I open those pearly, pastel invitations to the next baby shower. I am, for the most part, at peace with my life, until I'm faced with someone's newborn, then all the old sadness burbles to just under the surface. I don't let people see it. I'd never ruin their happiness. But part of me never shares it with them. Not really.