Loserville, Population: You

I like to think that I normally handle pregnancy announcements pretty well.  I'm always excited and enthusiastic for my baby-baking friend, and reserve my tears for the privacy of my closet or shower.  One of the few upsides to living 12 hours from friends and family is that I don't have to go through these things in person.  Announcements usually come via phone (best friends), email (close friends) or Facebook (aquaintances) - all of which require only minimal faking before I dissolve into a puddle of despair.  Ditto for baby showers - no one questions why I don't attend.  I can send a lovely gift and my sincerest regrets and avoid an agonizing two hours of baby talk and belly watching (because you know there's never just one pregnant lady at these things).

Don't get me wrong, I really am genuinely thrilled for my friends who are blessed with a baby.  How can you not be? It's a baby!  But the longer my arms go empty, the harder it is not to curl up into the fetal position myself and wallow in my self pity.

Fortunately when we moved to the Midwest three years ago, we surrounded ourselves with other childless couples. None of them was in a hurry to procreate, which was A-Okay by me.  But I knew in the back of my mind that this child-free existence would eventually end for someone, I'd just hoped that I would be first.

The announcement came on Saturday. Smart man that my husband is, he mentioned it casually as I drove him to the airport for a week-long trip.  He knew that I would be upset, he just didn't particularly want to be around to see it.  I can't blame him. He doesn't share my burning desire to be a parent. He's just kind of along for the ride. 

And right he was to do it that way because I've been in a funk ever since.  I, of course, sent the obligatory email - OMG! Heard your news! So excited! - but what I really want to do is scream obscenities at the top of my lungs.  To rail against the unfairness of it all. To beg God, 'What do I need to do for that to be me?'

Instead I will practice my interested smile, force some cheer into my voice and prepare for six long months of baby talk and bump watching.