For some reason, some people seem to think that infertility causes a person to become unrealistic about the responsibilities of parenthood. I don't follow the logic, but several people told me that I wouldn't ache for a baby so much if I appreciated how much responsibility was involved in parenting.
Let's face it-no one can fully appreciate the responsibilities involved in parenting until they are, themselves, parents. That is true whether you successfully conceived after one month or after 10 years. The length of time you spend waiting for that baby does not factor in to your appreciation of responsibility. If anything, people who have been trying to become pregnant longer have had more time to think about those responsibilities. They have also probably been around lots of babies as their friends started their families.
Perhaps part of what fuels this perception is that infertile couples have a longer time to "dream" about what being a parent will be like. Like every other couple, we have our fantasies-my child will sleep through the night, would never have a tantrum in public, and will always eat his vegetables. Let us have our fantasies. Those fantasies are some of the few parent-to-be perks that we have-let us have them. You can give us your knowing looks when we discover the truth later.
I explained that the difference between a woman who was able to get pregnant on her own without a whole lot of effort and the one who went through the pain of infertility is that the infertile woman goes through motherhood remembering the pain of empty arms. Nothing that happens as a mother; bad day, sickness, exhaustion, loneliness, frustration, boredom or any of the less-fun parts will ever be as bad as that horrible ache. Mothers may whine about being tired, about the fact that the trip to the grocery store counts as "me time" or about the whole "haven't slept for eight hours straight in two years" thing
but
We wouldn't trade it for anything. Period.
You might want to tell me I have no idea what I am talking about since as of yet, I am not a mother. However, I know I will have a constant reminder of the my life before my child and no pain compares to the possibility of never having that child. Even when your kids are a pain in the neck.....I read this on a friends blog and she reiterates my sentiment, beautifully.
After a very long day, I went grocery shopping, skinned my toe in the parking lot, had some other fun drama happening, was beyond exhausted and looked forward to watching "The Big Bang Theory" and then collapsing into bed after a hot shower.
Five minutes into "Big Bang" I heard Julia crying.
"Honey, can you check on her please?" Mike nodded like a champ and got up. He opened the door, turned on the light and came sprinting into the kitchen.
"She threw up."
I jumped off the couch (no small feat for being 30 weeks pregnant) and ran into her room.
She was sitting in the middle of her bed, sobbing and *COVERED* in vomit. As was her bed, pillow, sheets, floor, bunnies (she sleeps with two blanket-bunnies) pacifier and everything in a three foot radius.
I stood there looking at her as she looked up at me and wailed, " Mamma! I gwoss!"
Trying not to cry with her, I yanked her out of bed and turned to Mike.
"Baby or bed?" He looked at the bed and grimaced.
"I'll take the bed. Get her cleaned up."
I thanked him (I was not wanting to try to clean up that mess) and carried her into the bathroom.
I yanked her clothes off and examined her. There was vomit in her hair, her eyebrows, all over her face and arms and even in between her fingers.
I turned the bath on as I tried to clean her up.
She huddled close to me, shaking as the water began to fill the tub. "Bath?" I nodded. "Yeah, Julia's going to have a bath." "NO!!!" She clung to me and began to cry.
I sighed. "Does Julia want Mamma to take a bath with her?" She nodded. "Oh, yes."
So I stripped down, grabbed her and pulled her into the tub. The vomit took forever to get out of her hair and she cuddled close to me as I poured warm water on her shoulders trying to help the chills go away.
After about ten minutes (and several trips to the washing machine on Mike's part later) she was clean and warming up. So we got out, dressed her, re-made her bed with new sheets, gave her some water and put her back to bed.
And repeated the entire process twenty minutes later.
As I sat on the edge of the tub holding my daughter over the toilet bowl, I reflected on my earlier conversation with Jenn.
I was exhausted, I was covered in vomit, it was almost midnight, Mike was saying things like "let her sleep with us" and I had to go visiting teaching in the morning (I had to cancel; we're 90% sure she just ate something that didn't agree with her but since I didn't sleep last night, she puked a good chunk of the night and we aren't 100% sure she's not sick I didn't want to expose her to other kids or babies and let their parents have as much fun as we did.)
Honestly, not the most fun I've ever had in my life.
But would I ever trade this vomit-covered child for the ability to go to bed and sleep eight (or more) straight hours? Would I rather have spent my evening watching mindless tv while the second bedroom stood quiet as an office instead of Julia's room? Would it have been worth the trade-off to sleep next to my husband with my arm wrapped around him instead of sleeping next to a little girl who kept sitting up and kissing both of us on the cheek saying "Wuff you?" Even on the "gwoss"-est of nights, I wouldn't trade it for peace and quiet. I'd rather have vomit in my eyelashes and a little body cuddling close for comfort any day than that horrible ache of empty arms and an overly clean house. Nothing compares to that ache.
And nothing compares to the joy.
**It's my big sister's birthday today! I think she is a little annoyed with me that I can't spend the day with her. What's my excuse? Right, I have to study (and go to work). I dream about the day where I no longer have to cancel plans, sit in my office or at school, listen to online lectures that make your ears bleed, and say the words, "Sorry, I have to study". I promise I will make it up to you. Happy Birthday, Whitney!! I love you!
*Bethany, Whitney, Mom, and Me.
I do have to admit that after your family is complete, after you've got that baby that you've always longed for, the infertility ache nearly goes away. Suddenly you become that mom that complains about your sleepless nights or your child's behavior. You forget how statements like that were like nails on a chalkboard when you were going through infertility treatments. Would you trade those insane parenting moments for anything in the world? Never! But the hurt does nearly go away. I say "nearly" because there's that slight hurt/longing when I see other women having their 3rd baby. To me, that's the baby I'll never have. I am satisfied with the way our family is, but there's always that, "What if I could get pregnant without evening thinking about it?"
ReplyDeleteThat's good to know! I hope that does go away but I hope I never forget what it was like. I'm sure you don't. I think we will be the same way. We've relented to the fact the we won't have a big family and we are fine with that. Right now we would just like the one (well, okay two... I don't want an only child). Thanks!
ReplyDeletePeople have some pretty dumb ideas about how infertile people should think and feel, especially if they have never been there themselves. If anything being infertile helps you appreciate your children and the responsibility of parenthood even more because it took so long to be able to have children in the first place. I haven't forgotten what it was like but in a way I'm grateful because it puts a new perspective on your "bad" days. When you remember what it was like before kids, the temper tantrums and all nighters etc. those are all worth it.
ReplyDeleteOh look at those beautiful women! I miss you guys.
ReplyDeleteAnd I can only imagine the dumb things that people say to you. I would have to imagine that your experience with infertility would make you more tolerant of the demands of parenthood, because you would so acutely remember the other times. You just have a different perspective than those who didn't have to fight for it.
<3 <3 <3
I loved your post. I agree with what you're saying. I would not trade the worst days of being a mom for anything. But there is something about parenting that I've recently learned, and this may not apply to everyone, but being a mother has exposed and made me more aware of my faults and short-comings than anything else before in my life. It took us over 4 years to get pregnant with Ben, and I like the way you describe infertility as an ache, because that's exactly what I felt like. I felt like I was not a whole person, and that I needed something more. But now as a parent I ache to be the best mother I can be, even when all my faults have been exposed for my children to see. I ache and yearn to make sure that I'm helping them grow into good people. Does that make sense? I feel like I've traded one ache for another.
ReplyDeleteVery well put my friend! It is hard oh so hard to hear people complain about the one thing you want most in life. And it is SOOOO annoying when they say well at least you don't have to deal with.....or are you sure you want kids because my kid is.......! We're not blind to what parenting consists of, we just long for that oppertunity. When you get that oppertunity, it is easier to handel the hard days. I remember being tired beyond functioning, Croix was just crying and crying and wouldn't go to sleep and I started to cry. As I was crying from frustration and exahution my tears turned to joyful tears as I realized this was exactly what I had prayed, fasted, longed and ached for! There I was in the trenches of motherhood! I'm praying you'll be there soon too!
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