Why Is It So Hard For Others To Get

I hesitated to write this post on this blog because I try to keep it infertility-related, for the most part, but as I was writing a link started to emerge.

I didn't leave a comment on Melissa's fantastic first or second post about breastfeeding. I kept trying to because I wanted to support her and be in total agreement. But I would just well up whenever I tried to come up with a rational thought, so I chalked it up to pregnancy hormones and tried not to feel too guilty for not being more supportive of someone who never fails to lend her support.

And then I read about the Similac formula recall and posted about it on Facebook. And a "friend" posted about it as well with the comment that this is why she didn't used formula. I suggested to her that she could be more sensitive since breastfeeding wasn't an option for everyone and suggested she look at Melissa's posts. A virtual "feud" ensued. We have "de-friended" each other and it's no great loss, but I'm still rankled by the exchange.

I have never written, except in the briefest passing, about my breastfeeding experience. About how my failed induction caused my blood sugar to drop below 50 and require glucose. That those wonky sugars and the treatment for them combined with not eating for two days in which I never dilated past three cm after having my water manually broken meant that my son was born with low blood sugar and was given formula in an attempt to stabilize it before I was even out of recovery and able to hold him. How I tried and tried everything the lactation consultant suggested in the hospital, and during phone consultations and in follow-up appointments. How much I yearned to be able to feed my baby "the best way" despite the fact that he came home sucking down four ounces of formula at a time. How I "power-pumped" eight times a day and never got more than three ounces total for the entire day from both breasts. How the one time I actually got four ounces and cried because that was a whole bottle of breast milk for him at a time when he was taking in 24 ounces a day.

And why did I want so much to breastfeed- because it was "best." And damnit, I had waited so long (although recognizably not as long as many) for this baby, everything had to be the "best." I was going to be like all the other mothers, for a change. I was part of the "in crowd" now, I was no longer a childless infertile, I was a mama. And breastfeeding is what mamas do.

Nine weeks of crying every single time I pumped because I had to set my baby (who wanted to be held all the time) down and listen to him cry while I futilely produced dribbles that wouldn't even constitute an entire bottle. I finally stopped. I think my husband thought I was going crazy and maybe I was. Although I would periodically try to put him to the breast to no avail. And very doctor's appointment I took him too, I had to reply that he was formula fed. I had to wonder if he was sick because he wasn't getting the "best" with all its alleged immunity properties. The guilt lie around every corner.

And reading Melissa's gorgeously raw posts, I realize I didn't even have it that bad. It's not as if my child was starving or not thriving or in the NICU or premature or any of those other anxiety-producing, heart-wrenching situations that others have to grapple with. Melissa said it best: Any time we name something “best” and ignore all other possibilities, we are being inflammatory.

So, why can't others get it? Why does there have to be judgment rendered, explicit or implied? Why do they give a damn what someone else is feeding her baby? Why the need for moral superiority if one is a successful breastfeeder? Can't we just ask someone to be sensitive and her to say, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize, I will be more cognizant in the future?"

As I pondered these ideas and found myself unable to sleep, I found it so much like the interminable debates over language on message boards relating to trying to conceive. And how the poor infertiles keep attempting to ask for sensitive language that takes into account that some are struggling (e.g., the "finally" bombs) that is met with defensive and derisive replies. Why is it so hard for others to get that sometimes one unintentionally says something that is hurtful to another? Why is it so hard to own that? Maybe the person didn't realize. Ok, I can understand that. But learn from that experience. If even one person is hurt by the statement, why not just change it? Or at least not repeat it?

Why is it so hard for women to just stand along side each other in silent support and just not say anything?

Not the post I planned to write

About 10 days ago, I was working on a post about how ttcing #2 is not the same as ttcing #1 at all. Although disappointed by a negative outcome, it is always tempered by the fact that I already have one very special little boy and no longer have to wait to be called, "mama."

I didn't get quite done with that post before last weekend and can't finish it now. Because on Sunday, June 27, I got another bfp. We had been trying for only a few months (and never prevented since my period resumed in January 2009), so it was a shock that it actually worked. It's like how other people get pregnant- no tests, no drugs, no IUIs, no heartache- very surreal.

What IF

It's National Infertility Awareness Week. The title of which I find amusing. Infertiles are more than aware of their infertility. And those who don't struggle with infertility- I wonder are they aware of their fertility? How did they get to the point of taking it for granted? Is that the default position societally?

This thought came to the forefront for me yesterday at a baby shower at work. I dread these things, not because I am still in the mental place that it's painful to be at a baby shower; rather, because of the conversations focused on "planning" children. A woman who is not one of our regular coworkers was telling the mom-to-be how wonderful it is to have a baby and regaled us all with how when she and her husband decided to have a baby, she "got pregnant 20 minutes later." And dang if they didn't do it again the second time too- the very minute upon deciding.

Because it's a given that married women of a certain age do that- plan when and how many children to have. In my head, it's always if. If someone can get pregnant, if that baby is born, if someone can have another. If.

I have a magnet on my filing cabinet at work from the March of Dimes. It says, "Every mom deserves a healthy baby." And that's true, I wish all babies are born healthy and not premature. But the reason that I put the magnet up is not just to support healthy babies. Every time I look at, I think:

WHAT IF every woman who should be a mother got a heathy baby?

Family Defined

Natural Child: Any child who is not artificial.
Real Parent: Any parent who is not imaginary.
Your Own Child: Any child who is not someone else's child.
Adopted Child: A natural child, with a real parent, who is all my own.

--- Rita Laws, PhD

A Modern Fairy Tale

Last night, before prayers with my little man, I told him the following story that I have told him a few times in the past. He didn't know, but I did, how important it was this week to be reminded of the story.

As I have in the past, I pointed to the moon and stars on his wall and began.

You see the moon, yes sweetie, moon (he's a big fan of moons and points them out in all his books) and the stars? Those are very special. They are magical and came from a special fairy godmother. In a land that is easy to reach, but hard to touch, there lived many beautiful princes and princesses. They were very sad though because they all wanted something so very important-a baby- and tried and tried to get one. More than anything in the world, the princes and princesses wanted to have a baby and become mommies and daddies. Some of these princes and princesses tried for many, many years to have a baby and sometimes they would get to take one home and then they wouldn't be sad any longer. But sometimes, there would be no babies and the princes and princesses would try to be happy, but still feel sad inside.

In this kingdom lived a special princess who was also a fairy godmother. She wasn't your typical princess or fairy godmother. Although beautiful, she was fiery. Sometimes, she even made people angry at her. But she was smart and funny and her heart was so filled with love and she would help those sad princesses even though in her heart she was sad too.

Your mommy and daddy picked moons and stars to decorate your room because you were our dream come true and we wanted you to always know that your Daddy would give you the moon and Mommy would give you the stars. And one day when we were waiting for you to arrive, a package came in the mail from that fairy godmother- she had sent you these magical stars and moon to put on your wall to remind you of how special you are. And we all lived (reasonably) happily every after.

But that's not the end of the story- the fairy godmother waited and waited and waited for her baby. She watched so many princes and princesses become daddies and mommies and still no baby for her. Then, one day, with help from lots of doctors, she finally was given a baby and became a mommy to a most precocious little sprite. And the entire kingdom rejoiced!


This fairy godmotherhas her first FET in less than a week and although she isn't a big believer in prayer, my little man and I prayed for the happy ending and that her little one will be in her arms safely by the end of this year.