It has been quite a while since I was so riled up about something that I felt the need to post about it on here and rage against the machine. I am not 100% sure if I have reached total rage status yet, but I am definitely close.
It all started with Facebook. I am not one of those people that looks on Facebook with disdain. I don't take that crap so seriously. I mostly use mine to post funny statuses and keep connected with my family who lives all over this stinkin' country. Also, with my brother being deployed, we use Facebook IM to talk to each other when he can't get to a phone.
But this time, Facebook and I are at odds.
As I am coming closer and closer to my due date, my friends and acquaintances are deciding that they feel the need to offer "advice" or little quips to Robert and I. Whether it is a random wall post, or a comment on a status, people feel it is their duty or something to opine on anything having to do with a pregnancy or parenting.
Lately, little comments have been rubbing me the wrong way. I usually brush them to the side, but last night was kind of the final straw. Robert and I finished our 3 day long birthing class. It had been every night after work for three days, and it was 3 1/2 hours each time. It was painfully long and the chairs were so uncomfortable. And staying up past 10pm for three days in a row, really took its toll on me. I actually overslept this morning. I know birthing classes seem dorky, but it was really nice to know what to expect and what to do when I actually go into labor. I didn't know if I was supposed to call Dr. S, was I supposed to go to the ER, what were we supposed to do? It was also nice to get preregistered for Sully's arrival and know what to expect after I give birth and what pain management options there were. We even got a diploma and little feeding organizer. The people were really nice and the birthing suites are really nice. My city isn't a giant metro area so we don't have tubs in our birthing suites but each room has a private shower that I will be utilizing.
Anyhow, back to my anger. So last night, after completing this class and being slightly excited about it, I posted on my Wall how excited I was that Robert and I "graduated" from birthing class and we had received our "diploma" and now we were ready bring it on. Mere minutes after my status update, people starting commenting on it.
Here are some of the nuggets of wisdom that people decided they needed to share:.
"Diplomas don't mean shit to guys."
"So whattaya gonna do? Frame it?"
"We will remind you about that statement in the middle of labor."
"Or we will remind you when you child is screaming and telling you no."
Nice huh? No comments telling us how excited they were for us, or how cool it was. Just that kind of snarky scrap. Let me tell you, it has really gotten to me today. I thought about it for most of the night and all day today. I was contemplating writing a snarky status to kind of be a passive aggressive asshole, but I decided against it. That would make me just like them.
It really does hurt me though.
I mean, do you think I really care how tired I am going to be? Do you really think that I am going to hate the sound of Sullivan screaming? Really? Do you really think that I am going to wish I was never pregnant because labor isn't gonna feel as comfortable as a massage?
The answer is no. All those things are fleeting. He is not going to scream his head of all day every day until the end of time. I am already tired now so it doesn't really matter if I continue to walk around like a zombie. Obviously I am doing OK if I have managed to only miss 1 day of work while still being the chair of two volunteer events. And labor doesn't last forever. You aren't in labor for months at a time. It is 2011 for the crissake and there are epidurals, IV meds, peracervical blocks and so on and so forth. Why are people so amped up about how bad labor is going to be? Do they really hope I have a bad labor? Do they need the gratification of being, "Haha mother effer! Hurts like a bitch huh!?"
Part of me wishing that everyone knew about the struggles Robert and I had to endure. Not for pity, but maybe for sensitivity. Maybe if people knew how terrible it was, they would be more inclined to be our cheerleaders instead of jeering from the sidelines.
Then the other part of me knows that I wouldn't want everyone to know. And I most certainly wouldn't have wished our issues on anyone. I wish nobody had to endure hurt like we did; like other IF moms and couples have to.
I would never want someone to know what it is like to fall to your knees on your bedroom floor with your last round of Letrozole, crying so hard you are dry heaving and praying to God to please, please, please come through and help you have this blessing. Hoping and praying that this is the cycle it happens. Pleading that this is the cycle that you get your miracle.
I would never want anyone to fake a smile when your are told by a friend that she is pregnant on the day you learn that you no longer are.
I would never want anyone to have to look at her husband and show him yet another pregnancy test is negative and feel like a failure.
I would never want anyone to have to know what HSG, IUI and IF are acronyms for.
I would never want anyone to have that hurting, aching, yearning feeling like I had for so long.
I would rather have them feel the complete and utter joy I feel when Sully wakes up in my belly in the morning. He is kicking and squirming and letting me know how happy he is.
I would rather have them be as excited as I am to welcome this new little boy into this world.
I would rather have them feel the immense amount of happiness that I feel everyday I wake up next to my amazing partner and have to move the pregnancy pillow so I can get out of bed because my big, swollen belly is housing my son.
I would much rather have that.
I think of myself as so blessed to be carrying Sully. I look at my belly and I can see it jumping around under my shirt. I think that is such an amazing feeling. I can't wait to be able to hold him in my arms, kiss his little cheeks and let him know how much I love an adore him.
Robert and I may not be millionaires or royalty, but I will make it my life's goal to make sure that Sully knows everyday that he is loved and that he is special.
I want him to feel secure and safe.
Most days I look back to that night I spent on my knees on my bedroom floor. I don't think I have ever cried or prayed that hard in my life. I clutched that cycle of Letrozole like it was made out of solid gold. I remember talking with God and telling him all the wonderful things that Robert and I had planned for our babies, and what I would do if he helped me out here. I remember a feeling coming over me as I climbed into bed. Like maybe God had heard me.
Less than a month later, we found out I was carrying Sully.
I guess I hadn't realized how much this had all been building up. Even now, the tears are coming in a mixture of remembrance and appreciation. I am just so lucky.
So all the advice givers, nay-sayers, non-supporters and jerks; please think before you offer unwarranted opinions
To all the women out there still struggling; hang in there. Have faith. Be strong.
To all the women that are pregnant now; be healthy. Have faith. Be strong.
To all the women who are already mothers; feel blessed. Appreciate what you have.
To my husband, my partner and Sully's father; you are amazing. I don't know how I could have survived this without you.
To Sully; keep kickin' pal. We have less than 8 weeks until your due date and I can't wait to see you. Daddy and I are fixing up your room this weekend. We love you, buddy!
To everyone else; keep the faith.
"Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life. You stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes; with your right hand, you save me."
Psalm 138:7
Thanks again, Lord, for being there that cold, and now miraculous February night.
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