My daughter was born on a Tuesday, and buried on a Thursday. It's been four weeks since I've buried her, and not a day goes by where I'm not filled with an obscene ammount of anger.

I hate that I worked so hard to be denied my motherhood. I feel so guilty about wanting to get pregnant again. I know that she'd want siblings, but I still can't help to feel that I'm somehow betraying her by wanting pregnancy.

With my first child, Beatrix, it was just her and I. The "father" ditched out the day that he found out I was pregnant, asking me to pretend that he wasn't the father. I was fine with this, since I believe that if you can't love unconditionally, you can get out. I'm young, stupid, and naive, but I didn't care. I was a mother. I didn't care that I wouldn't get to college, that I lost a lot of friends (those who suggested me to abort), all that mattered was the dear sweet child in my uterus.

I had never smoked or drank, I cut caffeine out of my diet, and did everything so carefully. I ended up getting two jobs so I could support us, and I remember feeling so accomplished every time I bought another piece of her nursery.

My siblings were much older than me, and weren't that close with me, so they'd often yell at me, thinking that I wasn't working, that I was just lazing around. They didn't realize the lengths I was going, and all of my preparations, but that didn't matter to me. All that mattered was my daughter. That was all. If people were going to support me, wonderful, if not, then they could get out of my way.

After finding out she was dead, I snapped. I hate getting out of bed. I hate being awake. I hate that I survived while she didn't. I hate the fact that I feel happy when I do my art. I hate that the calmest I feel is at her grave site. I hate that I can still function through all of this.

I know that I shouldn't feel so bad. Beatrix wouldn't want me to. She'd want me to be happy, to keep on living... I have faith in this because if I had died instead of her, I'd want her to live. I'd want her to be happy and grow.

I'm relieved, in a way. She'll never have to see the ugliness of this world, the impurities and imperfections... but I'm greedy. I would've gladly put her through this world to show her the love and beauty of it, just like she showed me when I was pregnant.

Nothing made me as happy as I was when pregnant. It was like I found my true calling in life. Ever since I was a little girl, whenever I'd be asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said, "I want to be a momma!"

And now I am... but it doesn't feel that way at all. I get to see my sister with her baby, and I'm so happy for her. I love seeing pregnant women, and the baby sections in stores always calms me.

Ideally, I'd like to be pregnant again this fall. However... I feel slightly bad. I'm single, I'm currently jobless, and I just lost my first child... If I'm going to be getting pregnant, I'm going the artificial insemination route. The relationship I had with my exfiance has me very sketchy. He was a terrible man that threatened me throughout my pregnancy and I ended up having to get a restraining order so he'd leave me and my daughter alone... and after he found out that she was stillborn, he blamed me. He told people that I killed my own daughter.

A place in town is also trying to get me to work for them, and I feel so bad... because while I need money, I just don't feel right being around people. I feel terrible for this because I had such a hard time looking for work when pregnant that it feels like I'd be slapping someone in the face if I reject this job offer... but I just don't feel right.