I see the updates. I see the newly posted pictures of a growing belly. I see the pictures of a nursery that was tirelessly decorated. I have the same pictures. But you'll never see them. It's not because I'm ashamed of my belly or because I'm an awful painter or decorator. It's because I didn't get the happy ending.
Three years of failed fertility treatments makes you re-think a few things. If I used a donor egg, would I love that child any less? If I carry that baby for nine months, can anyone tell me it's not mine? Do I think my kid is going to care that mommy needed a little help to bring him or her into the world?