Dear friend/classmate/former co-worker,
I am truly thrilled to hear that you are pregnant. Really. I have no doubt you will cherish your child and make an excellent parent, and goodness knows, the world needs more good parents.
At the same time, I do not wish to hear about the growth of your fetus, your pregnancy symptoms, your delivery, or how you are adjusting to new-mommyhood. And as your child grows, unless I am related to him/her by blood or by marriage, I won't really care how tall he is, how much he weighs, and whether he is using the potty.
You see, I have been unable to achieve (in nearly two-and-a-half years of trying) what you have achieved. So hearing about how much you are enjoying what I don't/can't have is painful.
I am glad you haven't had to walk in my shoes and experience the pain of infertility firsthand. I wouldn't wish infertility on my worst enemy. (OK, I admit, I probably *would* wish it on her. . . . but unfortunately for me, she already has a baby conceived at a convenient, planned time without medical intervention.)
But I ask you, please don't pity me. . . . just spare me the details.