The Glue

by K. Webster

Tears of disappointment leak from my eyes. It’s not just him. It’s me. I’d grown so fixated on having a baby, I made sex a mission. It wasn’t fun. It was a means to an end. And even now, knowing he’s physically unable to give me a baby, I hold out hope anyway. I’ve given him a mission he will fail. A failure I’ll ultimately resent him for. He was wrong. He can’t fix us. We’re stuck in a constant loop.

infertility has become an epidemic.