College friends are posting pictures of their toddler (or their toddler and their newborn) at the beach, high school friends are about to deliver, casual acquaintances are posting picture of their swollen bellies on Facebook. Even goofy kids from the neighborhood, who I'm not sure are old enough to drink, are with child. It's quite discouraging.
I've thought about this - and it's not that I feel jealous of the babies as babies. I can look at pictures of your kid, or play with him or her, without suffering any psychic pain. It's their health, their ability, maybe their basic anatomy that I resent. The world is full of people who snap their fingers, spread their legs - and then it's "Yay, let's decorate the nursery!" for nine months. No gloom and worry, no wondering why, at six weeks, they don't feel more nauseated, or why their boobs are the same size they were three weeks ago, and WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN THIS CAN'T BE GOOD.
I'm angry at myself for being less-than and unable to do something that seems to simple to everyone else. I'm angry that I still can't get the pregnancy books my friend gave me out of my car because I've banished everything baby-related out of my home until...when? A heartbeat? A kick? Viability? I'm angry that there are people out in the world who turn up their noses and say, "Well, people are infertile for a reason. Nature/God/etc didn't mean for you to be pregnant." (Never to your face, of course, but through passive-aggressive hints, or the full-on hateful aggression of the internet.)
I suppose I'm just an angry person.