I don’t want to be a fucking auntie. I want to be a mum.

I know I’m meant to be happy for them but I’m absolutely gutted for myself and I feel like the future I built up in my head has been ripped from me. I’ve known for a month now and it’s still upsetting me. When I found out I cried for three days, pretty much solidly. I can barely bring myself to speak to my family because whenever I do I get upset. When my brother told me I couldn’t speak, and I had to text him later to explain my odd reaction and to say I needed some time to come to terms with it. My brother hasn’t been in touch with me since that day, despite my having sent them a card and texted him twice. He hasn’t even bothered to tell me they’re moving house. I found out on Facebook. I suppose I’m supposed to pretend to be happy and suppress my own feelings – somehow they should be subjugated to the all-hallowed superior feelings of the fertile. But I am fucking surrounded by people spouting out children and I can’t cope.