This is bullshit.

I'm sick of trying and failing and not being able to stop thinking about it.  I'm sick of remembering that even having other kids won't take away the fact that Mila's gone, and that fact will always be there, an immovable wall that I'll be banging my head against for the rest of my days.  I'm sick of being angry when people complain about trivial hardships because they don't really believe that life can dish out the fucking worst, and I'm sick of then feeling ungenerous because really, am I really going to play the dead baby card?  I'm sick of trying to be a better, more enlightened person because I had this experience.  I'm sick of feeling ungrateful when I remember that even though losing a child this way is the worst thing that can happen, it's actually not; that in a lot of ways, my life is no different than it was two years ago, and things could be a lot worse.  I'm sick of reminding myself to feel grateful that at least I have this, at least I have that, at least the only truly terrible thing that has ever happened to me is that my baby died.  Seriously?  I'm supposed to take this and just keep smiling?  Fuck you, universe.  This is bullshit and I'm angry about it.