Easter weekend

I didn't realize how hard it would be to be at home. My parents are walking on eggshells about what they say, and my husband isn't here to hold my hand when I'm sad. He's taking care of our herd of animals and spending Easter with his own family. It's the first holiday we've been apart since we were engaged. That's part of what makes it difficult, of course.

Equally uncomfortable has been the people we've run into. I started crying in the grocery store when one of my mother's friends from work - one who has helped her get through the loss of what was her first grandchild, after all - came over and said how sorry she was. It hurt, and it made me angry, in a stupid way. How dare she bring something so painful, so private, into the open in a grocery store? I know she only meant to express her sympathy, but I thought here I might be free of it, at least for a bit. And tomorrow will be worse. Tomorrow after church, we spend the afternoon with my aunt and uncle, and my pregnant cousin and her family. I don't want to hear them say how sorry they are. I don't want them telling me that I'll get to meet my baby someday, when God wills it, and that look, my cousin is pregnant and carrying to term after a miscarriage of her own. I don't want them to be understanding. I just don't want to talk about it. I have a whole slew of friends who still live in my home state, and I haven't told more than one that I'm here. I just don't want to see them and explain. I should be 14 weeks pregnant, and I'm not.