Congratulations! It's a bastard!

Ok, I know. I know. I know, okay? Sheesh, I get already. I'm an asshole.
I'm going to jump around a bit in this story, so hang in there.
The day begins with not one, but TWO phone calls waking me out of a drug-induced slumber because I am sick as a dog and I absolutely HAD to drag my ass into work tonight. "Hey Julie! Just wanted you to know your loser of a family member just had her 2nd illegitimate child today! Yay! And it's another boy! He's perfect. Thought you'd want to know!"
I blocked it out until I came home from work and there were not one, but TWO emails telling me the same fucking thing, including weight and length, exact time of delivery, details about his attempts at latching on, and, oh yes, pictures. HAD to throw me the pics, too, didn't you, you sons of bitches.
My niece is a bit of a wild child, always has been. It was kinda cute when she was younger, but now that she's nearing 30, it's getting harder to stomach. Take for instance, the visit we made back in '05 when she snagged her clit piercing on a noodle in her parent's pool. She felt no shame in yelping about and showing us how weird it was that this could happen! On a cousin's day out, she took The Boy to an amusement park, and spoke freely of drinking, getting high, and her fondness of biracial and bisexual encounters. To this day, The Boy has a healthy un-appreciation for her and the education he unwillingly received. He has a special name for her, which I won't share. Makes me giggle, and I'm not in the mood.
Her first shotgun wedding lasted 7 weeks, and she took back her name (allowing the first twatspawn to keep his father's name, because he was, after all, the III). The wedding itself was rather redneck and cheesy (mullets and pickup trucks, Guns n' Roses, et al.), but her dress was lovely. She chose the ultra-low back to show off her tramp stamp (lower back tattoo), but opted for a tasteful, forgiving front, since she was 7 or 8 months along. No need to flaunt it.
When her most recent relationship with a married man began to "get serious", she took it upon herself to get the ball rolling. She was, after all, at the tail end of her 20's, and her only child was already five or six. Of course, you can guess what happened. He broke it off, sort of. He wasn't in a position to up and leave his wife yet, but maybe he could still hang around and help her out some. Sounds like a perfect solution, doesn't it? And, oh yes, one of the pictures shows proud papa holding his son. The caption reads (______ was present for the birth. Not sure yet what role he will be playing, but it was nice he was there.) Yes. Very nice. Fucked up, but nice.
As a tribute to her parents, she reportedly will be naming the child a combo of her mother's maiden name and her own (father's surname). I know they are proud grandparents. My brother and his wife are just GIDDY with excitement, because they had two girls, and their eldest girl had two girls, so this one giving them two boys is just AWESOME. Regardless of the circumstances, it is a gift.
And it is.
And here's where I get a little pissy and out of control.
In a recent family newsletter, my SIL wrote that "______ will be birthing us another boy sometime in the next two weeks, in case you didn't already know. We're so excited!", but to personalize it just a bit, she added a few lines specifically for my version:
"I wasn't sure if anyone had told you. I hope you are OK with such news since your loss. Your mom says you've had a couple more pregnancies since Nicky, are you OK? Are you still trying or are you just waiting for God to bless you if He sees fit? I hope it's OK to ask you such questions and I'm sorry if you don't want to talk about it. I guess there's no easy way to ask but to be blunt. "
No, I don't suppose there is an easy way to ask, but to be blunt. There really isn't an easy way to answer, but to be blunt, either. However, since I do have the teensiest modicum of tact left in me, I didn't reply with what I really wanted to. As a matter of fact, I didn't reply at all. I thought about it, but put it off. Then today's news swept over me, and I meekly replied "Congratulations, please give _____ our best. He's a really lovely baby."
Yes, he's a really lovely baby. So glad he's breathing. Two years ago today I found out my baby was dead. I spent the next 37 hours trying to squeeze the lifeless body of my very-much wanted and begged-for child out of my birth canal. We actually refer to it as the death canal now, isn't that cute? I hope that the discomfort of her pregnancy with this "mistake" is overshadowed by the joy of a toothless grin and late-night feeding of a screaming, colicky gift. Both of her babies were "oooops" babies, and she has struggled with accepting them, both during her pregnancy, and I know after the birth of her first for certain. As a matter of fact, you've pretty much raised that one yourself, haven't you, because she's still out sowing her wild oats and doesn't really want the responsibility. Both babies were products of a misguided attempt at "keeping her man", which obviously didn't work. So, um, that whole "waiting for God to bless me if he sees fit"? Not sure where you're going with that. Do you really need for me to unleash the fury, right now? Oh, ok, if you insist.
For me to believe that any of this mess is God's blessing, is just wrong. He's blessing HER, over me? One would have to believe that "god" has anything at all to do with any of this, and if he does, he is fucked up in his head. In the conversation where you tell me I should be okay with what happened, because there might have been something seriously wrong with Nick, and did I really think I could handle raising a retarded child, you spew out some bullshit about God doesn't make mistakes. Huh? Maybe you're not meant to have any more children. Huh? Well, you seem so busy, maybe it was for the best. Right. A dual-income solid family is no place to raise a child. Rather, God gives babies to unemployed, uneducated whores to be neglected or raised by someone else. That is so logical. By the way, explain this one to me, since you have so much sage wisdom to spare... why would "god" allow a pregnancy to go to term, and then wait to kill the baby right at the finish line? He decided at the last minute that I wasn't fit? He changed his mind? He realized he made a mistake, and had to hide the evidence?
So, yeah, I guess we are just waiting for God to bless us if he sees fit. Congratulations, the best woman won, hands down. No contest. Clearly, she is fit, whereas we are not. God plays favorites. Oh and by the way: Fuck you.