55 words. One story.
Here goes another.
The baby poops. That’s all he does. Childhood friend cries to child(less) hood friend. My breasts are sore; I smell of milk. Dinner, movies, social engagements, business brunches, have all been replaced by waiting for poop. I am exhausted, emotionally wound up and my husband is a pig. Suddenly chidless is glad to be childfree.
3 comments:
*sigh*
I wander in and out between wanting a child REALLY, REALLY badly to not.
Me too. And I blame the biological clock for the yearning for child.
*sigh*
My mom didn't even have me until she was 32!
Post a Comment