My life is a series of stressful weeks interrupted by months of boredom. I wish that I could take the time to enjoy things as they come...one at a time. Alas, it is not to be. This week, my schedule is packed, which means that the best I can hope for is just to survive it, rather than enjoy it.
Let me preface by saying I am a procrastinator, or at least, I will be when I get around to it. I have 6 or 7 projects for school hanging around my neck that HAVE to get done this weekend. (So obviously, I thought I'd type a blog post instead) I also have to clean the house this weekend, something I've been putting off for the last month or so. (The Everest of dishes in my sink is a testament to how stubborn the husband and myself can be. We are each waiting for the other to graciously take care of it. 3 weeks and counting...) My sister is visiting from Minnesota with my adorable, and mischievous, nephew to work on her wedding plans for this August. My angel has a field trip to dig for dinosaur bones at a local ranch, which really just means that she will come home with a rock I have to pretend is a fossil and two bricks of mud that were previously known as her tennis shoes. I am graduating from college next Saturday, and the husband is giving me a party. (And "giving me a party" generally means I must clean my house and take care of all the arrangements. A real gift) I also have to attend an award ceremony because I am graduating Magna Cum Laude and also the math department is giving me some sort of Outstanding Student Award, which I feel I should show up to accept. (We hope not to stay at the reception too long, as the department heads will be there and I want to take my award and run before they realize what a huge mistake they've made and that I don't actually know how to do any math. I was hoping to keep that a secret until after the diploma is in my hand!) In the middle of all of this is May Day or Beltane, which is a wonderful little pagan festival celebrating the returning fertility of the Earth and it's inhabitants. My angel and I usually celebrate by planting flowers and leaving little secret May baskets on the doorsteps of our neighbors, but that might get scratched for time this year. (Too bad, it's one of my favorite secondary holidays) I also like to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, but I'm not sure there will be time. (Not that I am in any way Mexican, I just really love guacamole and margaritas!)
In addition, I have some knitting projects for a baby shower next weekend and mothers day. (Which is only two weeks away!!) But I fear I must triage, so the homework gets done first. (Mom will understand. Mother's are pretty understanding about half-completed projects.)
Luckily, when this week is over my plans include...nothing. I have no plans for two months. I wonder if people will be confused if I try to move May 1st to June 1st...
Friday, April 25, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
"When are you having another baby?"
People ask me this all the time. I guess if you've had one child, the logical step is to have another. Why? Are other people really so invested in my family that they feel they should have a vote in our family planning meetings? And it's usually asked by a mere acquaintance, which is actually more annoying.
"When are you guys having another baby?" the pseudo-stranger will ask.
"Well, thank you for your interest in our sex life, (insert name here), but I'm not sure I feel comfortable discussing my fertility with you right now. But we are ready to order our food though, whenever you are."
I guess the question would be harmless enough if we didn't want more children. The problem is, we do, and we are really having a hard time having another child. So it's really sweet of you to pour lemon juice on the gaping wound of my heart. Thanks.
But people often say the most hurtful things disguised as sympathy. As I write this, I am suffering through my second miscarriage in less than a year. Most people think of a miscarriage as the end of a pregnancy. That's seems simple enough. Sure, the mother is sad... who wouldn't be, but it's not that big of a deal, right? Wrong. Miscarriage is a grisly, painful business with possibly life-threatening complications. And when I say painful, I mean it feels just like childbirth only without the happy ending. (For those of you who have never had children, or opted for the epidural, imagine your worst menstrual cramp and multiply it by 5. And for you men, I can't say for sure, but I imagine it would feel like getting kicked in the groin constantly for a few days.) But any woman can take that. It's the stupid things people say that really get upsetting. The worst part is, they're trying to make me feel better!
Here is a list of things not to say to women in my position, in case you have a friend or family member who goes through the same thing:
1. "It's probably a blessing." I know that the chromosomal mis-match that probably triggered this whole thing would not work out in the end, but I'm in a lot of pain here and it's really hard for me to see it as a "blessing". Not to mention all the daydreams I've had about the baby are up in smoke. I've lost a dream...that's not a blessing.
2. "It's God's will" or "God has a plan" or pretty much any phrase with the word "God" in it. This is often a pat answer, and I'm sure some people even believe it. But if there is a God, (and time's going to tell on that one) and He is doing this to me on purpose, then He can kiss my bleeding heiny. Maybe He's testing me, but if he really wants to test me, He should plunk four or five people in front of me spouting off about "God" and see which one I smother with a giant maxi-pad. (Don't forget the hormonal pollution I'm dealing with!)
3. "You can always try again." I guess. But if you don't mind, I'd like a moment to regret the loss of this baby, before you shuffle me off to worrying about losing another one.
These phrases tend to come out when people feel uncomfortable and don't know what else to say. But here's what you should say: "I'm sorry for your loss" or "I don't know what to say." Simple, easy to remember, and most likely true.
So the next time you find yourself scrambling for small talk and you are thinking about saying the "when are you having a baby" line, just comment on the weather. You'll still sound ridiculous, but at least you won't hurt any feelings.
"When are you guys having another baby?" the pseudo-stranger will ask.
"Well, thank you for your interest in our sex life, (insert name here), but I'm not sure I feel comfortable discussing my fertility with you right now. But we are ready to order our food though, whenever you are."
I guess the question would be harmless enough if we didn't want more children. The problem is, we do, and we are really having a hard time having another child. So it's really sweet of you to pour lemon juice on the gaping wound of my heart. Thanks.
But people often say the most hurtful things disguised as sympathy. As I write this, I am suffering through my second miscarriage in less than a year. Most people think of a miscarriage as the end of a pregnancy. That's seems simple enough. Sure, the mother is sad... who wouldn't be, but it's not that big of a deal, right? Wrong. Miscarriage is a grisly, painful business with possibly life-threatening complications. And when I say painful, I mean it feels just like childbirth only without the happy ending. (For those of you who have never had children, or opted for the epidural, imagine your worst menstrual cramp and multiply it by 5. And for you men, I can't say for sure, but I imagine it would feel like getting kicked in the groin constantly for a few days.) But any woman can take that. It's the stupid things people say that really get upsetting. The worst part is, they're trying to make me feel better!
Here is a list of things not to say to women in my position, in case you have a friend or family member who goes through the same thing:
1. "It's probably a blessing." I know that the chromosomal mis-match that probably triggered this whole thing would not work out in the end, but I'm in a lot of pain here and it's really hard for me to see it as a "blessing". Not to mention all the daydreams I've had about the baby are up in smoke. I've lost a dream...that's not a blessing.
2. "It's God's will" or "God has a plan" or pretty much any phrase with the word "God" in it. This is often a pat answer, and I'm sure some people even believe it. But if there is a God, (and time's going to tell on that one) and He is doing this to me on purpose, then He can kiss my bleeding heiny. Maybe He's testing me, but if he really wants to test me, He should plunk four or five people in front of me spouting off about "God" and see which one I smother with a giant maxi-pad. (Don't forget the hormonal pollution I'm dealing with!)
3. "You can always try again." I guess. But if you don't mind, I'd like a moment to regret the loss of this baby, before you shuffle me off to worrying about losing another one.
These phrases tend to come out when people feel uncomfortable and don't know what else to say. But here's what you should say: "I'm sorry for your loss" or "I don't know what to say." Simple, easy to remember, and most likely true.
So the next time you find yourself scrambling for small talk and you are thinking about saying the "when are you having a baby" line, just comment on the weather. You'll still sound ridiculous, but at least you won't hurt any feelings.
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