Hermione is being induced. It's some kind of emergency. That's weeks early. Maybe four?
Everyone is gathering at the hospital. I guess this is a Mexican thing? It seems bizarre and invasive to me. All the aunties and cousins and everyone are leaving work to go camp out in the waiting room. WTF? I told Sperm Donor we weren't invited, and he just seemed confused as to why would need to be invited, as if it is assumed that of course we will go camp out at the hospital.
Sperm Donor forgot our due date, but I haven't forgotten you, October 21st. I haven't forgotten.
Maybe Sperm Donor should have married the superfertile Mexican girl he was supposed to. Then he'd have a couple kids by now, three I guess. Maybe she would have said the right prayers or lit the right candles. Maybe she would just know that you are supposed to go camp out at the hospital. Maybe she would have actually made it to L&D in one of these FOUR YEARS and the party would be for her.
I went to a super difficult spinning class to try to get my mind off it, and it didn't work at all. I just ended up crying on the bike, which is a decent place to cry actually because no one is looking at you and you're dripping sweat anyway.
As I was driving away, I was thinking that if I drove off the bridge, it wouldn't even matter. I'm 33. My kids are all dead, and the OMG FIRST GRANDBABY will be here. Who gives a shit about me? There's nothing special about me. There's nothing important about me. Maybe after four years, I should know that.
I'm not camping out at the hospital. There's no way I can deal with this birth party with el primer nieto, and abuela, and everyone else. I'm turning off my phone, and I'm leaving. Maybe I'm going to the beach. I don't know. I have to get out of here.