I was in an elite sports club for women who were either pregnant with high risk pregnancies or who had just delivered preemie babies. They took me on a tour and showed me where I could get all the free gourmet food I wanted. It was a massive complex that felt like a cruise line and spa for pregnant women and NICU moms.
After the tour was over, I was supposed to have access to all these fancy spa like shower rooms and activities, but when I tried, my passcode wouldn't work. I was told how to get a new passcode, but was so emotionally exhausted that this one last bureaucratic step had me in tears. I sat down next to a big pile of exercise mats and started sobbing as I watched the pregnant pilates group in ugly light pinkish-brown matching exercising outfits do mat routines. I was jealous. Their outfits were HORRIBLY ugly and I wondered why anyone in their right mind would put on a uniform like that. I wondered why they all wore the same ugly pinkish outfit. At at the same time, while I didn't want to be a part of their group, I was a little jealous - they had a group. They weren't alone. Their passcodes worked. Mine didn't. But I was too exhausted to find my way.
So I sat in a corner by some mats and cried.
[I promise, in the next post -- which should be up tonight -- I'll get back to talking about Jonathan.]