Dear Friend Battling Infertility

There’s no easy way to say this, and I’ll do my best to be sensitive to your situation: I am pregnant. Again.

Not that you aren’t happy for me, because you are, but I know this isn’t an easy time for you.

Most people don’t understand your struggle. I do. Well I don’t understand exactly how you feel, but I remember how I felt during my years when I was battling infertility. All too vividly I remember how awful pregnancy announcements made me feel. How can a human being experience such immense joy for another, and grueling internal bitterness and self-loathing at the same time? It’s fucked up. But it happens.

I apologize. I’m not trying to make this about me. It’s just that I’m not sure exactly what to say.

I know you’re not jealous of me. Your personal strife is not directed at me. But I also know that my pregnancy is a reminder of your own heartache. I’m sorry for that. I never want to cause you pain in any way. I know it’s not my fault, but I know my joy may hurt you. I possess empathy; I respect the pain of your situation.

I promise to not be an insensitive bitch through out my pregnancy. I’ll spare you frequent updates that sound like bragging and burn like salt in an open wound.

If you need to hide me on FB, as it’s a painful reminder of where you are in life, I get it.

I won’t expect you to go shopping for cribs and baby items with me.

I will refrain from using nauseating blanket statements such as, “Some day it will be your turn.” Or, “God has a plan.” Only asshats say that dismissive crap. I’ll just hug you and say, “I love you.”

If you need to hide away with a king size Kit Kat and bottle of Jack for a little while, I won’t take it personally. I understand that this is your private battle, not aimed at me.

Zero judgment from me. Do what you need to do. Self preservation is a necessity.

What you’ll never fully know is that you are extremely strong and courageous. I really admire your tenacity. Every cycle you put forth a brave face. You grieve with grace and dignity. You continue on when most people would give up. You’re awesome and I’m blessed to be able to call you my friend!

Most of all, I want you to know that just because I kicked infertility’s bitch ass, does not mean I’ll stop fighting for your victory. You may feel isolated, but you’re never alone. I’m here. Ready to go into battle with you. For you.

I’ll cry with you. I’ll cheer with you. I’ll pray with you.

Always and forever (with a stack of ovulation predictor kits and Internet cheapie pregnancy tests in hand),

Me