I was in a pretty good place.
A happy little bubble if you will.
I no longer thought about how far along in my pregnancy I would be.
I no longer thought about how many weeks since the miscarriage.
All was in the past.
And I was looking forward.
Forward to when I may or may not ovulate.
Forward to when it didn't matter anymore and I could try Clomid again.
Forward to when we were no longer in the worst year of my life and it was finally 2012.
And then, with one text message, my happy little bubble has burst.
First pregnancy announcement post miscarriage.
She is 41 and he must be 45...ish.
And they've been married maybe a year.
Devastated because I'm not pregnant...still.
And devastated because I'm struggling to be happy for others.
I don't want to be this person. This person that instead of thinking oh yay, good for them. I think, wtf? really? even the over 40's can manage it easier than me? un-fucking-believable.
I don't want to be here. I don't want to be this person.
But here I am.
Happy bubble burst.
And I have no idea what to do about it.