How to say "I'm pregnant" to someone struggling to conceive

People who know us, and who know that conception took us a while, or who were privvy to my anguish at the time, seem to feel the need to apologise to us if they, or whoever we are talking about, conceived quickly, or by accident. 

There is no need for them to apologise of course. Expecting a baby is a wonderful thing, and even at my lowest or most tearful I never begrudged other people this happiness. After all, as I would always say to friends, it is not as if there is a limited number of babies allowed and them having one minimises our chances of having one. 

Not that it wasn't difficult of course. At times I would summon all my courage and sense of what is right to raise a glass to someone's news or give them a celebratory hug, and then go home and howl. But I have never wanted anyone else to go through the months and months of disappointment and upset that we did. 

So how should you tell someone who has experienced difficulty conceiving that you are pregnant? Everyone is different of course but my advice is this. Do it matter of factly without beating around the bush. Don't apologise for it but don't gloat either. Above all don't say "I guess we must just be super-fertile" as this is not what someone worried about their fertility wants to hear. But don't hide your happiness either - people trying to conceive are trying because they want babies and think having children is a great thing and as such want you to be happy about your own fortune in this matter. And if you can, tell them by phone or email or alone and then give them a little space so they can wrestle their own sadness away in private and compose their face and their feelings so that they can then be appropriate to you. And when they say congratulations, please believe them. They may be sad about their situation but their joy for you is genuine. 

Related post: What I really want

Not smug, relieved

Sometimes when I am walking down the road with the buggy (and baby), even if it is grey and wet and in a less than nice part of Tottenham, and even if I am tired and grumpy and harumphing with every step, out of nowhere comes the realisation that I found my man, we had a baby and this is exactly what I always wanted. 

And though when I was single well-meaning friends told me I'd meet him one day, and though when we were trying to conceive well-meaning friends told me it would happen eventually, for some people it doesn't, and I always felt these well-meaning friends would probably turn out to be wrong. 

So on those days when I realise I got what I wanted I can't help but grin inanely as I wander, and whoop internally (and sometimes, to the consternation of passers-by, externally) and breathe sighs of relief. And it's not because I am what Bridget Jones would call a 'smug married', because I am not smug, I promise, nor do I believe that being married is important (though my marriage is important to me), but rather I can't believe my luck that it did happen. I am so so thrilled and relieved.