I have a lot less tolerance for people who complain about months 7-9 of their pregnancies. “Wanna trade?” I want to ask them. But that’s both bitter and morbid. But man, I want to smack them sometimes. Don’t they realize how lucky they are? How much I would give to have the typical aches and pains of late pregnancy right about now? Don’t they know not to take this all for granted? I mean, of course not. I didn’t, even though I was an anxious pregnant woman. I still never thought my baby would die, not really. Those things don’t happen to healthy people who don’t do anything wrong. They happen to other people, who don’t take care of themselves or are in poor health or who don’t know their bodies well. K always tells me that the reason we got a month with Ander is because I was healthy and because I did pay attention to my body’s signals, and I know that she is probably right. But it’s still hard to understand how this happened. So I judge other pregnant women who take this all for granted. I don’t want something bad to happen to them or their baby, just for them to open their eyes a bit and realize it could happen to them, too. Not that I did, before. But I was different – before.
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