When an infertile woman gets pregnant

Something strange happens when an infertile woman gets pregnant. Her dynamic of friends is....shifted a little.
I've been on both sides. I've been the one with the plastered on smile, trying not to cry when a friend tells me she's pregnant again, and they "weren't even trying".
I've also been the one who, after giving up hope, finally finds herself in a pregnancy that just.might.stick. The one who's terrified, elated, and very guarded in how she tells her infertile friends.
I haven't forgotten about you. If anything, I think of you more often. Because I still feel like I am there with you. I feel the fear. I feel the doubt, the wonder at whether or not it's foolish to hope after everything. I feel it. I fight it as often as I'm awake.
Some of you have emailed me. Asked me how in the world I finally got pregnant, with a pregnancy that is so far healthy (one day at a time, guys).
Here's my secret: I gave up. I told myself I didn't want it. I started running every night. It's horrible advice to give you, but the truth is, I simply asked God to take away my dream.
HE DIDN'T.
He simply showed up at the eleventh hour.
I've said this before, but on the day I found out, I prayed, just hours before I knew, that God would take away my dream because I couldn't be so sad. I wanted joy.
Then I got two positive tests.
My first thought was "God, stop playing with my head! Don't break my heart here! I don't want to cry over this anymore!"
BUT.
God has a plan.
So far, it has included morning sickness, a heartbeat of 136 beats a minute, 2 passing outs, 4 throwing ups, 5 pees in a cup, and 1 prick of blood from my finger. 
Guys, I'm scared.
I'm scared that I'm going to lose something so precious to my heart.
But, one day at a time, I am learning to believe in God once again.
Believe, not just that he IS, but that he is GOOD. I haven't believed that in so long. For so long, God was the one who took. The one who broke.
I could have walked away from God. I wanted to.
A little voice said Wait and see, Angela. Just wait and see.
If you are in the middle of infertility, and you don't know how to keep hoping, I want to hold your hand. I want to lift you up. I'm not out of the woods yet, and when I pray for me, you are often brought to mind.
Please, dear ones. If you're going through this, know that you are not alone.
I would love to buy you a cup of coffee and just talk.
I haven't forgotten.