I saw my next door neighbor and stopped to chat for a minute, and she's obviously pregnant. Of course she is. They moved in within a few months of us, they're our age. They have reliable vehicles, good jobs with benefits, and a reasonable commute. They run marathons and ride bikes and have sophisticated dinner parties. Everything's just peachy for them.
And their bodies work, I guess. Right next door, just like everyone else.
Now that I'm off the hormones, I can fake it better for other people, but it still feels like a pitchfork through my uterus. I'm not crying anymore I guess, but I feel this new, deeper, more jagged jealousy that feels it is becoming boiling anger. I am so angry at my fucking body. I'm angry at a fucking failed perfect IVF cycle. I'm angry at all those injections for nothing. I'm angry at dozens of scans. I'm angry at the universe. I'm angry at this break. But I'm especially angry at pregnant women. Like this red hot anger that coats my life with an angry cloud of smoke. It makes my whole life feel gray and dark. It's just not fair.
I told my sperm donor our next door neighbor was pregnant and he said "Don't get all crapped out." He didn't even stop watching TV.