Pregnancy announcements still hurt. Only, now it is more like ripping off a band-aid in one "OUCH! Oh hey - it's just a scar now," and less like breaking your leg while you're still walking on crutches from the other leg that you broke last month, or someone squeezing your heart as hard as they can and kicking mud in your eyes. (Not that THAT has ever happened to me...)
Methinks I am not supposed to know about either of these pregnancies, but I do and it smarts. I feel left out, larger than life, and pitied. I can't bear the thought of these lovelies thinking, "Oh no, now I have to tell Amy," like I am going to burst into tears or punch them in the belly. Another part of me wants them to feel the pain of having to tell me that the thing we strived for for 3 years was achieved by them in 3 months. (Let's just be honest, here.) I should be used to it by now. Seriously.
So life goes on. Does this mean that I am not ready for adoption? No. It means that I am a human woman with a mother's instinct, and a biological clock ticking like THIS! Does it mean that I am a jealousy-monger with a heart of stone? Nope. I know that God's perfect baby for us is just not going to be born to us, and I don't want their baby. Does it mean that I am a nutcase? Well, the verdict is still out on that one.
What not to say to your infertile friend when you become pregnant:
"I wish it were you."
"At least you don't have to..." never, EVER begin a sentence with this. Not to anyone, fertile or not. DON'T do it, I'm telling you.
"It wasn't expected/planned," etc.
"I understand if you need some time to process this."
"I wanted to tell you myself."
"Please tell me if you would or would not like to receive updates on my pregnancy." (Maybe don't ask this the minute you share the news.)
I've got scars. You've got them, too. This is what life looks like. Romans 8:28 says that God can use all things for good, even when they hurt like the dickens or last a lifetime.
Resume ye thou day, friends.