One of the things I struggled with during my pregnancy — besides all the normal weird pregnancy things — was how, and when, to talk about it.
After years of fertility treatments and repeat pregnancy loss, there was nothing more frustrating and saddening than the constant stream of pregnancy announcements on Facebook.
Sure, some people I was genuinely happy for — I knew some of them had struggled to get, or stay, pregnant.
But most of them? Like 99.9% of them?
Yeah, they could suck it.
I dealt with it by removing almost all of those people from my newsfeed. The majority of them were people I haven’t seen since high school, so after a while I didn’t even remember them. Hell, I don’t even know what those kids look like (some of them are probably three by now) and I don’t really care.
So when it was my turn? Hell yes, I wanted my moment in the sun. Who doesn’t like, well, all those Likes?
After all the needles, ultrasounds, debt, heartbreak, and waiting for our turn, I was ready to shout the good news from the rooftops.
But I knew I wasn’t alone. After I started blogging, I got emails from friends from high school, old college roommates, and friends of friends who were going through the same thing.
Now I have my baby, and most of them still don’t have theirs.
So now I’m the one blowing up Facebook with pictures of a smiling baby, videos of him babbling and rolling over, and hilarious quotes from my husband about the realities of parenting.
And every. single. time. I post something, they are the people I think about first.
Not the grandparents or long-distance relatives. Not our friends who adore this baby almost as much as we do.
I think of all the people who might see his picture, and burst into tears.
I can only hope they’ve taken the time to block me, like I did way back when. Do it! Hide that nonsense! I know it’s nothing personal.
I hope they get their chance to spread some good news of their own soon.
And I hope they know that I think of them often.