Every day used to be exciting, and now each moment is a fight to pass the time without crying, feeling, or wanting to fade away.

Looking down at my stomach each morning used to be incredibly exciting, and now even showering, and having to see my stomach bare, is only a bitter reminder of the happiest thoughts that no longer have a place or purpose to be there.

Looking at calendars, the food in the refrigerator, alcohol, medicine cabinets, restaurant menus, and the mere sight of my body in the mirror, are constant visual prompts to thoughts that are suddenly and forcibly meaningless to me now; they have become things that no longer bear consideration for the needs of “my future child.”

Everything feels difficult now.

I wish I could delete the last three months of my life.

I wish I didn’t have to watch the bellies of friends who became pregnant right after me, grow before my eyes. I used to be leading our journey.

I wish this didn’t happen at all. I waited so long for the point of sharing my pregnancy, and I was notified exactly while crossing the finish line, that I’ve lost. It feels so cruel.

I hate so many things now. My drive to work, my background thoughts, my drive home, my belly, baby showers, my period...

I never knew I could feel as heavy as I do empty at the same exact time.