I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to stay pregnant.
I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to make my husband a dad.
I’m sorry that I can’t stomach going to baby showers.
I’m sorry that each pregnancy announcement makes me grasp a bottle of Jack Daniels.
I’m sorry that my heart breaks every time someone asks me if I have kids.
I’m sorry that I can’t afford IVF.
I’m sorry that nothing I’m doing is fixing my infertility.
I’m sorry that my body was only made to kill my children.
I’m sorry that I understand the inclination to steal an infant from a nursery.
I’m sorry that my state makes adoption impossible if you aren’t rich.
I’m sorry that my womb is empty and broken.
I’m sorry that I would pay someone to get pregnant for me.
I’m sorry that I feel so insane about all of this.
I’m sorry that I’ll most likely never be a mom if I stay in Illinois.
I’m sorry that this hurts my husband so much.
I’m sorry that I’m this way.
I’m just….sorry.