I can’t believe I almost did it. I almost told her. My beautiful friend, who has been through hell and back trying to have a baby, and there I was, practically glowing, with my secret tucked away in my purse, ready to spring it on her over overpriced quiche. What kind of monster does that? Is that what I am? A monster? I look at her, my friend, and all I see is her tired eyes, the faint lines around them that weren’t there a year ago, the way she picks at her food, barely tasting it. I’ve been there, you know? Not with fertility struggles, not exactly, but with that deep, bone-weary exhaustion that comes from wanting something so badly it consumes you, and then having to put on a brave face for the world. My whole life has been a brave face. For everyone. And then this. This… thing. This unexpected, absolutely baffling positive stick staring back at me from the bathroom counter this morning. I’m in my late thirties, for god’s sake. My husband and I—we weren’t even trying. We were… content. Settled. Our lives finally had a rhythm, a cadence that wasn't dictated by someone else's needs or emergencies. I finally felt like I could breathe, truly breathe, for the first time in forever. And now this little line, this faint pink declaration, just blew everything up. And I almost, almost, told my friend, who has cried herself to sleep countless nights, about it. Is there something fundamentally broken in me? That I could be so… oblivious? Self-absorbed? I just sat there, stirring my coffee, watching her try to force a smile, talking about her next doctor’s appointment, another invasive procedure, another hope-filled disappointment. And I just nodded, offered empty platitudes, my own news a lead weight in my gut. What was I supposed to say? “Hey, remember how much you want a baby? Well, guess what, I’m pregnant! Totally by accident! Isn’t that HILARIOUS?” No. No, it's not. It’s an awful, terrible, no-good kind of hilarious. I can still taste the bile in my throat from holding it all in. I just… I don’t know what to do with this. With any of it. And I don't know when I’ll ever feel like I can share this without feeling like a complete and utter SHIT.