They’re not the ones who have to worry about what’s going on inside her body when you’re not there to watch over the two of them.
They don’t break out in a sweat because your whole life is walking around in a five three package that weighs maybe a hundred pounds.
They don’t sit around contemplating the fact that her womb is like the most precious thing in your world for the next however long the kid decides to stay in there.
That instead of one, you now worry for two, every time she’s out of your sight. Or how the thought of all the pain you keep hearing is awaiting her makes you wish you’d never touched her, until the next time you bury yourself inside her of course.
How do you let your most prized possession, the thing you hold most dear, out of your fucking sight, without going crazy?
Don’t get me started on the dangers that no one tells you about. The shit that has you afraid that she’d stub her fucking toe if you’re not there to hold her hand.
I know I’ve lost my shit I don’t need anyone to tell me. I just need them to let me get through the next six months in my own way.
Too bad I know that shit isn’t about to happen, just as I know I’m not going to breathe easy again in this lifetime. This love shit is a racket.