I hate my ovaries and my uterus. I should be kind to them, tell them pretty things, nourish them and forgive them. That's what the therapist says. But I feel like a hypocrite when I try.
I also hate my dog for dying when he did. I loved that dog, he was almost 18 years old and in spite of his age he was a darling. He had some health issues, but you could still tell that he was enjoying life. And then he got an infection and had a couple of bad days.
It's like he said: "OK, this is not fun anymore. I'm going to have breakfast, go take a leak, and then I'll come back, lie on my favorite spot and stop breathing." And that's just what he did.
I always envisioned him dying in my arms. I resent that he took that away from me. I was still very weak from the miscarriage, lying in bed in the guest bedroom and I could not even say goodbye. It was the spouse who notified me that the dog had stopped breathing. I begged him to bring the dog to me, but he did not dare move him. So I hauled up my ass leaning on my walking stick and yes, I made it to the living room only to find my dog's cadaver. He was gone.
I know I should not hate my dog because, really, what else could I have wished for him but a peaceful, natural death? An old dog's death is not a tragedy, unlike the miscarriage. I certainly don't hate my baby for dying, I just hate my body for killing him. So I am very confused about why I feel this way about my dog. I hope I can forgive him one day for his bad timing.
Forgiving my uterus is going to be much harder.