I Shall Not Be Moved

I haven’t talked much about the particulars of my job, because, well, hell, there is that whole getting dooced issue. Nonetheless, I think I can say that my workplace is an agency that helps low-income families, and today one of our clients is sitting two cubicles away with an adorable baby that keeps screeching and squealing in delight. I haven’t gone over to say hello because his/her mama is sitting with one of our domestic violence case managers, so I’m thinking perhaps she doesn’t want everyone in her business. But that baby needs to stop sounding so fricking cute because every time it squeals, my womb rockets around in my insides, banging its figurative tiny little fists about and simultaneously reaching up to squeeze my heartstrings in its sticky little paws. Damn biological drive to reproduce. Quit trying to hijack me!