A woman on my message board learned on Tuesday that her baby is not alive inside of her. She had gone in for a second ultrasound at thirteen weeks, after everything going well at nine weeks and hearing the heartbeat, but this time there was nothing. I can't even imagine the devastation.
In contrast, yesterday at a festival-type event, despite the heat and humidity, pregnant women abounded. I actually audibly gasped when the 16-year-old trashy Brittany wanna-be turned to the side and I could see her six-month bump with her mini skirt riding low under it.
There seems no justice in the juxtaposition of these two situations. I am not naive, I know that life is not fair, but I truly don't understand this. The "why" scream resounds through my head.
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