lesbihonest.
Somebody told me today that they read my blog. And that other people had read it.
I was shocked. A little bit humbled, a little bit anxious. Did they laugh at me? Did they think I was being too dramatic? Am I a joke now?
I haven't given this blog link to everyone. I'm pretty sure my sister & my bff read it consistently, and some fb friends occasionally.
It's easy to discuss my infertility through typed words. Sometimes, I don't have an issue verbalizing my thoughts & emotions about it to whoever (whomever?) I'm speaking to. Sometimes it's really difficult to look someone in the eye and talk about it. It seems to go on a day by day basis.
What sucks to hear is "it'll happen to you, don't worry." ( which seems to be the popular consolation.)
Lesbihonest. Empty promises & consolations aren't something anyone wants to hear ever, let alone when they're fighting a battle that HAS.NO.GUARANTEE.
Beyond that, that phrase in particular basically sweeps to the side my very real & logical fears. I'm not foolish for seeing my reality, and I don't get anxious or discouraged for "no reason."
When my mom died, people said a lot of things.
"God needed another angel." (But she was a human, not an angel. God created us for an entirely different reason than angels & we don't become angels. )
"I'm praying for you guys." (Hopefully true...but I never knew the outcome of those promises.)
"She's not in anymore pain/ she's at peace now." (Well that's great. I, on the other hand am in pain & am very much not at peace. I don't count? ) *true then, but less true now*
I never responded that way to anyone! I wanted to a couple of times, but never did.
Then I realised that people said & did things for themselves. They needed to deal with their loss by recognising our loss. My mom wasn't JUST my mom. She was a sister, a friend, a cohort to other people too. They were hurting too, not on the same scale, but still hurting.
People don't know how to handle death, they don't know how to handle grief or other people's pain. So they say the standards. I learned to appreciate even those, because it came from a real intent.
One of the things I remember the most was a family friend who basically helped raise us, coming up with her kids. They are a few years younger, but not kids. She said that they hadn't wanted to come.
Because they didn't know what to say.
All they could do was mourn with us. All they could offer us was their tears. It was one of the most genuine reactions that I saw, and I'm still grateful for it.
Now, this is a different circumstance.
This battle is month after month & attempt after attempt of trying to fight my body. There isn't one devastating loss of a loved one, it's multiple little extinguishes of hope intersperced between pinterest boards of nursery & baby ideas, others pregnancy announcements, my dream baby registry, and (so far) disappointment every 4 weeks (in one case 81 days.) Its a constant reminder of my failure. (I know I should
n't see it that way, but it gets hard not to on my bad days.)
That's what I'm fighting against. That's what I need support with. I have a support system in Andrew, and a few close friends. But the nature of this is isolating. I don't naturally discuss something so intimate.
If you feel like you need or want to say something supportive, please do! I love it! (But don't feel like you have to.) I'm grateful for it. I love hearing "you're going to be a great mom." It's validating & hopeful. A friend told me that " your kids are going to be lucky to have you." It's an encouragement to hear things like that.
Thank you, reader, for reading. For caring enough to read my thoughts about this in the first place.
(I'm not sure why I used all of the fighting/ battle analogies. Normally, I'm not so dramatic. Or aggressive. It feels kind of like fight, only in the sense that I'm working towards a goal against the odds. But I don't think that there's an evil enemy in my ovaries...just that they need to get their act together.)
Hopefully this post makes sense. I started off in a lot of different directions tonight (I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk about feminism, make-up, christmas pictures, or black friday.) This was the one I was able to clarify. Now, I'm off to read some fanfiction. Don't judge me.
I was shocked. A little bit humbled, a little bit anxious. Did they laugh at me? Did they think I was being too dramatic? Am I a joke now?
I haven't given this blog link to everyone. I'm pretty sure my sister & my bff read it consistently, and some fb friends occasionally.
It's easy to discuss my infertility through typed words. Sometimes, I don't have an issue verbalizing my thoughts & emotions about it to whoever (whomever?) I'm speaking to. Sometimes it's really difficult to look someone in the eye and talk about it. It seems to go on a day by day basis.
What sucks to hear is "it'll happen to you, don't worry." ( which seems to be the popular consolation.)
Lesbihonest. Empty promises & consolations aren't something anyone wants to hear ever, let alone when they're fighting a battle that HAS.NO.GUARANTEE.
Beyond that, that phrase in particular basically sweeps to the side my very real & logical fears. I'm not foolish for seeing my reality, and I don't get anxious or discouraged for "no reason."
When my mom died, people said a lot of things.
"God needed another angel." (But she was a human, not an angel. God created us for an entirely different reason than angels & we don't become angels. )
"I'm praying for you guys." (Hopefully true...but I never knew the outcome of those promises.)
"She's not in anymore pain/ she's at peace now." (Well that's great. I, on the other hand am in pain & am very much not at peace. I don't count? ) *true then, but less true now*
I never responded that way to anyone! I wanted to a couple of times, but never did.
Then I realised that people said & did things for themselves. They needed to deal with their loss by recognising our loss. My mom wasn't JUST my mom. She was a sister, a friend, a cohort to other people too. They were hurting too, not on the same scale, but still hurting.
People don't know how to handle death, they don't know how to handle grief or other people's pain. So they say the standards. I learned to appreciate even those, because it came from a real intent.
One of the things I remember the most was a family friend who basically helped raise us, coming up with her kids. They are a few years younger, but not kids. She said that they hadn't wanted to come.
Because they didn't know what to say.
All they could do was mourn with us. All they could offer us was their tears. It was one of the most genuine reactions that I saw, and I'm still grateful for it.
Now, this is a different circumstance.
This battle is month after month & attempt after attempt of trying to fight my body. There isn't one devastating loss of a loved one, it's multiple little extinguishes of hope intersperced between pinterest boards of nursery & baby ideas, others pregnancy announcements, my dream baby registry, and (so far) disappointment every 4 weeks (in one case 81 days.) Its a constant reminder of my failure. (I know I should
n't see it that way, but it gets hard not to on my bad days.)
That's what I'm fighting against. That's what I need support with. I have a support system in Andrew, and a few close friends. But the nature of this is isolating. I don't naturally discuss something so intimate.
If you feel like you need or want to say something supportive, please do! I love it! (But don't feel like you have to.) I'm grateful for it. I love hearing "you're going to be a great mom." It's validating & hopeful. A friend told me that " your kids are going to be lucky to have you." It's an encouragement to hear things like that.
Thank you, reader, for reading. For caring enough to read my thoughts about this in the first place.
(I'm not sure why I used all of the fighting/ battle analogies. Normally, I'm not so dramatic. Or aggressive. It feels kind of like fight, only in the sense that I'm working towards a goal against the odds. But I don't think that there's an evil enemy in my ovaries...just that they need to get their act together.)
Hopefully this post makes sense. I started off in a lot of different directions tonight (I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk about feminism, make-up, christmas pictures, or black friday.) This was the one I was able to clarify. Now, I'm off to read some fanfiction. Don't judge me.
You will be an awesome mom.
ReplyDeleteMost of how I interact with Paige is made up of 50% of all the things I remember from growing up with mom, 5% natural instinct 5% outside influence and 40% things that I've picked up from you over the years.
Nearly half of my actions toward Paige come from your infulence on me. The strength, values, faith that you have..are things I want for her. After 26 years, I still look to you for nearly all of mine.
When you become a mom, you won't have 40%. You'll have 100. and you will be amazing.
I still can't deal with people talking about mom. I get sad and mopey and post things that I end up deleting. I don't handle the platitudes..I just want people to understand that the pain is still there. Life has moved on but theres still a piece of my heart that is still in the ICU waiting room, just waiting to wake up.
I think you and Andrew will b3 wonderful parents; thanks for sharing this journey so openly!
ReplyDelete