Dear Friend,
You shared the best news with the worst person. You bit that bullet and told me your news because you knew that, like a bandaid, it would hurt less if you just said it. You knew. You knew I would be crushed if I heard it elsewhere. You knew. I am sorry I couldn't muster anything than guarded happiness. You knew that if you displayed anything other than the glee and excitement you were feeling that I would be offended and feel pitied. You knew I hated to be pitied. But you knew I was still grieving, it was still raw for me. I still left the room when an expectant mom walked in, just so I could cry in private. You knew I cried in private, not because I ever told you, but because you knew me enough to know that was how I was grieving. You knew not to be offended at my weak smile for your news. You knew I wasn't yet capable of anything else. You knew that someday I would be excited and truly happy for you. Someday I would be able to rub your huge belly and eagerly feel for a kick. You knew someday I would snuggle your baby and sniff his sweet baby scent and truly love him. You knew I would be okay before I knew it.
