I sat in the corner, tiny baby nestled in my arms and watched. Women aawhed over the tiny little pink things. Wondered if the string they held was a big as the belly carrying life. Talked and joyed together.
Tears stream down my face on the ride home. Wondering. There is no guarantee that I will ever be in that place. No guarantee that people will pet my round shape. No guarantee that I will ever grow life inside of me.
I'm not bitter. I'm happy for them. I'm jealous. Is that wrong, I wonder? I would like for that to be me. It's not.
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