It’s my birthday today. I have a horrible cold, feel sick and old. But that’s okay. I know it’s only temporary (well, except for the old bit!), and it isn’t the worst birthday I’ve ever had, not by a long shot.
When I think back to that day, eight years ago, the Worst Birthday Ever, I wish I could hug that sad sad woman and tell her what I know now. That grief is painful but it eases over time. That your mind adjusts. That hope returns, just hope for something different. That there are other outlets of an urge to nurture. That life can be fulfilling, satisfying, worthy and content without children. That it does get better. And that that is worth celebrating.