But I am not.
I am not in a place with boring white walls and smelling of ammonia and there’s no IV drip on my wrist. I should be swinging back and forth the corridor every 2-3 hours to feed a tiny human being, shuffling from my hospital bed to the nursery, just like 6 years ago or pumping my breasts like I’m milking a cow.
Instead I am here in my work desk, writing this post. I wish I was at home, folding pink flannels.
When we decided to give a go at another pregnancy I was ready and thought I’ll be pregnant before the dawn breaks but I am not. It pains me that I am not. I’ve done this the first time – it was easy as a click of the mouse and I know the ropes. I am ready to do it again.
Who knew baby making getting pregnant is rocket science?