|and I hate this baby too|
I hate your baby. I hate your precious little birth announcements and the hospital room photos of you nuzzling your newborn. I hate his squishy little cheeks and her sweetly pursed lips and that downy fuzz of hair. I hate all his adorable monkey pajamas and all her darling pink blankies. Keep that thing away from me because I hate the way the top of its tiny little head smells.
I hate you for conceiving your baby the old-fashioned way, the fun way, and that the only shots you took were possibly tequila. I hate that your pregnancy was unplanned. I hate that you were confident enough in your ability to carry to term that you put your 8-week ultrasound pictures on Facebook. I hate that you posted status updates from the delivery room.
I hate the way you brought that baby into work and paraded it around like you just won the Stanley Cup.
I hate that you're taking your new baby home from the hospital at exactly the moment I'm leaving after my D&C. I hate that your husband is bursting with pride and mine is sagging with grief. I hate that your arms are full and my womb is empty.