Protective Mode

I think babies are wonderful. I think every baby is something worth celebrating. I think every single one is beautiful and precious and someone to be treasured. I really do.
So I ask you to forgive me if I don't celebrate with you, if I don't congratulate you, or ask about your pregnancy, or coo over your your beautiful bundle. Please forgive me if nothing related to the topic ever crosses my lips.
I've been in a lot of different places emotionally as we've gone through our losses. I've been in places where I've felt depressed, bitter, or jealous when I hear that someone is expecting. I've been in places where I was at peace or even thoroughly, genuinely excited for others when hearing their happy news. But right now, I'm in a place where it just hurts.
Every pregnancy announcement, every expectant belly, every ultrasound picture, every wrinkly newborn creates an ache, a physical pain in the center of my chest and that oh so familiar pressure behind my eyes. I've figured out that this is the moment when my brain hits the off switch. It goes into protective mode and just disconnects from all of this. Instead of progressing over and over to full blown heartache, it shuts that part of me down. I don't comment about your pregnancy, because I can't. I find myself physically unable to utter the word, "congratulations." I avoid looking at your pregnant belly, because if I start "seeing" it, I will stare and stare until the tears are pouring down my face. My brain refuses to engage the topic.
Please know that I'm not asking you to keep it a secret, to avoid sharing, or in any way alter how or when you talk about these things. I'm not asking for you to accommodate me as you rejoice and celebrate something that I want you to have complete freedom to rejoice about and celebrate. I'm just hoping for a little understanding when I don't join you as I wish I could. It's just my brain trying to protect my heart.