Not my news….

…but I hate to read this, all the same.  Despite the fact that I would never leave my personal reproductive future “up to God,” and regardless of what I may think of their choices, they are THEIR choices, and it doesn’t matter what I think of them…I hate this for them.  Some of the commentary that I’ve read (I know, never read the comments) is just despicable.  I don’t care how stupid you think a person is, this is just not something you wish on someone, ever. They may have (a lot) more kids than most of us would ever even contemplate, but even without having seen their TV show I’ve gathered that their kids are loved and cared for.  They wanted this baby, and that’s all that matters.

Every day that passes lets me be a sliver more positive that eleven weeks (and a day!  hooray!) is so close to the end of the first trimester, and after that the risk of miscarriage drops again.  The Duggars’ loss is also a sickening reminder that some people never ever get to forget that while the risk does decrease, it doesn’t entirely disappear. This happens.  Yes, she’s had a lot of kids.  Yes, she’s 45.  Yes, her last child was premature due to preeclampsia. But it happens even in first, healthy pregnancies, too.  I wish that wasn’t true, and I even sort of wish I didn’t know that so well, and as much as I’m letting myself get somewhat excited, I can’t be certain.  I’ll never be a smug pregnant woman (I hope – feel free to pinch me if I get annoying).  I can marvel at the cuteness of cloth diapers on Etsy for hours on end, but I don’t know that I’ll ever feel sure of getting to use them until the first time I get to clean up a blowout.  Once you spend enough time asking, why me? you eventually come around to realizing, why not me? It’s sadly a part of life, for some of us.  And it sucks, for all of us.
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