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.


















