(no subject)

Way back with the first pregnancy, and the second, we amassed baby clothes, being of the delusional sorts that surely, two losses in a row couldn't happen.

The third....we didn't even bother much, until we creeped up to the 12w "safe zone" and then blammo.

So we had boxes of baby stuff and its been with us. getting rid of it means we've lost hope and moved on. keeping it means we're still kidding ourselves?

A friend is in a bit of a stress with her impending second, and no clothes for the lass, so I did what I didn't think I would do, and culled half of the stuff to send to them. We kept favorites. And every time there's this crushing weight in my chest, from sorting to washing and packing.

This is so damn hard. I want to help and its the best thing but I get this "ITS SO FUCKING UNFAIR."

Combined yesterday with the faceful of anti abortion fucktards,who'd then deny the very procedures that saved my life and I'm just...yeah it'll be a vodka night.

Its really not like my heart could possibly be any more broken on this. Such is life, right? The universe jacks me over and the dumbasses turn up to make a mockery.

I'll be ok. I don't know what happens now. Lofty promises and hope don't work here.