New members of the I hate you club

Today I felt like I was in a Lifetime channel movie. Here's the scene: me in the waiting room at the OB-GYN for my yearly check surrounded by pregnant women. All of them happily rubbing their round beautiful bellies and disgustingly glowing with happiness. Me, miserable finding myself jealous and cursing the whole world's fertility.

I had to sit there for a half hour listening to them trade stories about how excited they were, someone just bought new toys, someone's inducing next week, someone's craving tacos and can't wait to deliver. I felt so left out. I felt like such a loser and a fraction of a woman because I can't even have a healthy baby right now.(Oh and by the way, my doctor who told me sternly not to even think of trying to have a baby for the next two years is-guess what-PREGNANT...not that it's her fault but still, the kindergarten maturity level version of myself is resentful and frankly jealous. Yeah she's in the I hate you club today too.) I'm pretty sure I did some silent pouting AND the kindergarten maturity level version of myself is also convinced that they were smug and taunting me. I've never met any of these women in my life and it's not their fault I can't be one of them. Still though I decided to dislike them for the rest of my wait. One of them even had a cute 4 year old mini-her resting her head on her pregnant belly to feel a kick. She was kind enough to ask me when I was due. The self pity version of myself thought," never never." The bitch version of me thought," bitch do I look pregnant, why do you have to rub it in?" But I politely told her I wasn't and smiled at her daughter.

I would like nothing more than a fat, bald headed, beady eyed little baby in a pouch around my shoulders at the beach with me while I look for shark teeth. I would like nothing more than pulling a toddler around in a wagon behind me while I walk Peanut. I would like nothing more than getting a five year old dressed for her first day of school. I would like nothing more than helping my genius kid(because he'd have my genes, hello!) with his homework. I know how to clap and wave at little league games. I could cry and pat myself on the back at a graduation or wedding. I'd be just as good at all these things as everyone else dammit.

I realize this is a romanticized version of raising kids. Believe me, I'm no fool, I have 6 nephews. I can tell sometimes there are times when my sister is on the edge of insanity where just one more word, one more noise, one more mess will do her in. Then I'll hear one running to her, crying with a booboo. And I'll think to myself,"I want to be the one to kiss booboos too."