Funny things, before each miscarriage, and any anytime I mentioned wanting children, I was told that I wouldn’t be a good mother.
I don’t play with matches.
I don’t run around with scissors.
I don’t push kids down on the playground.
I don’t bully.
I don’t spew hatred.
I haven’t been the best human being. I haven’t been the best to my body over the years. Oh, and obvously, I haven’t always had the best people around me, but who can say they are a perfect human being ready to be a parent?
Well, I wish I had that understanding when these lovely people in my life questioned whether I could be a good mom.
Okay, screw it, and with all the love I can muster up, screw them.
I actually believed it. I believed I couldn’t be a good mom.
And what fucking right did these people have?
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