As a result of recent events, I can only be led to believe that the universe fucking hates me.

The feeling is entirely mutual.

Another fucking teacher is pregnant. This news comes the day after the news of last year’s pregger’s delivery of her healthy daughter. Don’t get me wrong. I wish absolutely no harm on babies, and I am very happy to hear that everyone is doing well.

This news, however, would be a whole lot easier to take if I felt like it was ever going to be my turn. It’s selfish, it’s bitter, it’s awful, it’s entirely not how I am as a person, generally, but this infertility thing is really kicking my ass and turning me into a horrible, horrible person.

The worst of it is that I really like the newly pregnant teacher. She’s one of my favourites at school, which will make it even harder when I inevitably have to avoid her adorable growing belly and talk of her pregnancy. I can’t handle it.

I dealt with last year and two effing pregnant ladies walking around the halls, finishing off the school year with the very slightest modicum of sanity. Wasn’t that enough to earn my right into the baby club? I was civil to them. I smiled. I even carried on conversations with them every now and then. I thought that was it. This year I would be in the clear.

Silly, silly girl.

IVF is supposed to be starting next month after my second surgery. I seriously don’t know how I’ll cope if that fails, too.

If you need me, I’ll be on my couch watching Freaks and Geeks and drinking heavily. FML.

-Universe hatin’ Regular Van.