My friend- one of my very good friends- announced to me that her and her partner are expecting a baby in August of this year. I am absolutley over the moon for them. I cannot think of a more happy, loving couple to bring a baby into this world.

I asked her how many weeks she was, and when she replied “11 weeks”, there was THAT part of me that went “OHMYGOD why are you telling me this? Your baby could die!”

I hate myself so much for this being my first thought.

I truly wish that there was that part of me that could be immediatley happy for them, instead of remembering that for me, regnancy is not an innocent, joyous time for me. I know that things go wrong. Babies die. Pregnancies fail. Not all pregnancies end in joy.

Mine ended in pan and tears.

I wish that the fear of them losing their baby didn’t overshadow my happiness for them.

I wish them nothing but the best, and have no doubt in my mind that they will be amazing parents.

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