We're happy to present this article by Emily Lingenfelser from one of our favorite sites, YourTango [1].

So don't you dare judge me.

The other day, I told the director of a shelter for pregnant women that my pregnancy was unexpected [2]. To my surprise, this woman had the nerve to laugh at me and replied, "Well, you know how babies are made, Emily."

Maybe I am dramatic, but her judgment felt like a punch in the stomach. I was speechless. Of course I'm not an idiot. I know how women become pregnant but I had just come to terms with the fact that I might not be able to have more children [3].

After five months without a period, I found myself having a transvaginal ultrasound and being told that there were multiple cysts on my ovaries. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome [4] (PCOS), my doctor told me. My periods were nonexistent; I was 25 and ovulating maybe once every six months.

This will make it harder to get pregnant [5], he said, and I let that begin to really soak in.

I already had reservations about my ability to conceive which stemmed from my body's ultimate betrayal: cancer. My body was the enemy, the cancer cells and radiation had contaminated me from the inside out.

Perhaps it isn't logical thinking, but I no longer trusted my body to be anything except a disappointment.

So in July, when I was diagnosed with PCOS, a hormonal imbalance that would also affect my fertility and increase my chances of miscarriage [6] threefold, I had began to prepare myself for the cold, hard truth: I might never carry another baby inside me.

Two weeks later, I ovulated for the first time in six months.

Two weeks after that, I conceived a child.

My body was not the enemy anymore. Despite the circumstances and it being unplanned, my pregnancy felt like a miracle [7]. A gift from the God I wasn't so sure existed anymore.

It wasn't in my plans, but this baby was a blessing. Something I thought I would never have again. It couldn't just be a coincidence, because the odds seemed so insurmountable. It seemed impossible.

My unplanned pregnancy taught me [8] that maybe everything does happen for a reason. Maybe there is a higher power and a purpose to all of this, a reason I was put here.

There are so many women, especially those who have survived cancer or been diagnosed with PCOS, who have fertility issues. They cannot conceive; they suffer from early miscarriage.

But somehow, I am 18 weeks pregnant with a little boy, who will come into this world so loved and wanted. A little boy who was unexpected in every way with a mother who feels entirely blessed to feel his little kicks every single [9] day.

So before you judge me, before you mock the terms "unplanned" or "unexpected," [10] you should realize there is always more to the story than you know [11]. There are silent struggles and quiet pain that people go through which you may never know.

And at the end of the day, it doesn't matter if I intended to get pregnant or not. The creation of a life is always something to be proud of [12], despite judgmental, pro-life assh*les who believe it's OK to lecture others about how babies are made.

You know what I have to say to those self-righteous individuals? Go f*ck yourself. (At least you won't get pregnant that way.)

More great reads from YourTango:

• Why I Finally Gave Up on All That DIY Mommy Crap [13]
• The Inner Dialogue of a New Mom Every Single Night [14]
• Why Having 1 Child Is So Much FREAKING Harder Than Having 4 [15]
• 8 Things to NEVER Say to a Stay-at-Home Spouse Regarding Money [16]
• I'm So Freaking DONE Feeling Guilty About Being "Just a Mom" [17]