Grace for the Mom of Many

So, I understand being pissed off at moms who don't seem to care about their kids, angry rants about mothers who always complain, annoyance at new pregnancy announcements, frustration about those who seem to just keep having babies no trouble whatsoever, and utter rage at those who mistreat, harm, or even kill the children they've been given. I get that.
I get how unfair it is to be going through the heartache of infertility and loss and to look around to see so many others having babies as though it's a walk in the park. I know it's difficult to strive so hard for something that others just seem to take for granted, or even don't have any appreciation for at all. I know this and I understand all related rants that I hear.
What I don't understand is the occasional hatred, venom, or insult directed at moms for just having multiple children. I know it can be hard to see when you wish you could just have one, but does it really make them worthy of insult? I don't think so. They are just women, moms, building their families with the freedom we all wish we had. Their ability to have children easily is not related to our inability to have children. The number of children they have does not decrease the number we can have. Their small, medium, large, extra large family is a freedom that has been taken away from us, but not by anything they've done.
We love babies. We think think babies are wonderful, and everyone who wants one and will love one should be able to have one. Don't we? Or is it just the women who don't already have babies who should be able to have one?
Most of these women are just moms, like we want to be. Loving their family, trying to be the best mom they can for them. They are women with emotions and feelings just like us. They are women who want and love all of their children. They are women of whom many have also experienced the loss of a child they were waiting to hold.
I know many mothers of large families and I can imagine how they would feel if they heard some of the comments I read about them, sometimes comments that I know they have heard in person. How do I know? Because I remember my mom, a mother of five, telling me about the "joking" words that were sent her way from people at out church when our family was growing larger, comments about "rabbits" and "do you know how that happens?" And I can still remember the pain on her face even though those comments were well over a decade old.
So rant about how it's unfair that they can and we can't, how it hurts to see others do it so easily, how you wish you could just have one and how much you would appreciate that one, but maybe we can skip the name calling and mean comments, eh?

Words for Mother's Day

I know that many churches aren't good at dealing with infertiles in their midst, and Mother's Day is especially hard. I was impressed and happy to read this in the this weeks's newsletter that our pastor sends out:

To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you 
To those who lost a child this year – we mourn with you 
To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains – we appreciate you 
To those who experienced loss this year through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you 
To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment – we walk with you. Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is. 
To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms – we need you 
To those who have warm and close relationships with your children – we celebrate with you 
To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children – we sit with you 
To those who lost their mothers this year – we grieve with you 
To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother – we acknowledge your experience
To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood – we are better for having you in our midst 
To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year – we grieve and rejoice with you 
And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising –we anticipate with you 
This Mother’s Day, we walk with you. Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst. We remember you. We honour you. We love you.

From me to all my lovely friends - may this Mother's Day treat you kindly, no matter where you find yourselves on this list.


A quick web search leads me to Amy at "The Messy Middle". I'm not entirely certain, but it does seem that she actually wrote this piece. Thank you, Amy, for your thoughts and heart.

Friends Are Friends Forever

I <3 Twitter. I've learned the twtspk (a lot of it anyway). Figured out how to share pictures. Followed hashtags. Made up hashtags. Joined Twitter chats. And made connections. I've been on there for about nine months now and I've met so many amazing people. I don't know what it is about Twitter, but the community on there is pretty fantastic. I suppose it's not the same for everyone, but that's been my experience, and it seems to be the experience of most of my "tweeps." The majority of the gals I know (and yes, they are basically all girls, with the exception of Boy, and a fellow barefooter I follow - who I may just drop [sorry] because he doesn't tend to respond when I tweet him, oh - and a couple of "famous" folk I especially enjoy) any ways... the gals are mostly "members" of the infertility community and they continually come around each other to support and encourage in whatever stage they are at, whether it be the infamous "two week wait," starting a new procedure, dealing with a "BFN" (big fat negative pregnancy test), going through a miscarriage, or, wonder of wonders, celebrating a "BFP" (positive test).

Yesterday, we realized that many of us have another thing in common - lack of close friends in the places where we live. We chatted and dreamed about living in a community all together, bringing these friendships in closer and being able to support each other in person (grow a garden, raise some chickens, keep a cow - there was also mention of flowers, a tractor and booze - we're all set!). It's a pipe dream, but I was humbled and honored that they all wanted to include me. It's so nice to be liked and wanted, you know?

Unfortunately, it got me wondering - would they continue to like me so much if they met me in person? I don't have a great friend history. I've always had a hard time making friends, and occasionally the people I thought were friends, really didn't care all that much about me. I've struggled for a lot of my life with feeling like people would really rather not have me around, like I annoy them. I've had very few truly trusted friends over my life - actually I can count them on one hand - and I don't have any here and now.* I don't really understand it, but it makes me wonder - would they still like me if they met me?
I like bubbly, energetic people, but they are usually not drawn to me. I'm sort of shy, and don't often say a lot, except when I say too much.  I am a perfectionist, and it tends to make me overly critical. The bad things stand out to me so much more than the good things. I can find the bad in anything. I have an overly strong urge to correct, which I am slowly learning to temper. I am too sensitive and it's not unusual for me to be emotional. I can usually control my words, but my facial expressions are another thing. I don't change directions or plans easily and I NEED to know everything that is going on. I procrastinate terribly, and I think of all sorts of lovely things to do for others, but rarely actually do them. I want to, but I'm bad at making myself actually do it, and I get nervous. I don't have a lot of guts. I'm always afraid of what other people think and how they will respond to me. I have the hardest time approaching people I don't know really well about almost anything - to say "hi," offer help, ask a question. I tend to be an observer and not a participator. On Twitter it would be so easy for me to sit back and just read, interacting only occasionally. Sometimes, I have to push myself to respond, to put myself out there, to share my thoughts, to encourage, support, and love. It's totally worth it, but it doesn't always come easily to me. Plus, I'm always afraid I'll say the wrong thing. (And apparently I have self esteem issues.)
And, in this community I wonder how I would fit -with my beautiful little boy, and my ability to get pregnant (although not stay pregnant). Would having me around be hard? Would they resent that I had a son with no difficulties? Would they be ok meeting me along as he wasn't there? Would I be an outsider because I have responsibilities to take care of him, and not the freedom to whatever, whenever?
I hope that we would still be friends in real life. I have great appreciation for all of these ladies and the love they show one another, they way they share their lives, their pain, sorrow, and joy. I hope that they would see in person the same things they see on Twitter - the love I want to give, the kindness I want to show, the heart I try to reveal. I love to laugh and dance and sing. I have a good sense of humor, even if it's often a little sarcastic. I'm loyal to a fault and quick to forgive. I'm honest and trustworthy. I value my friends and have a heart of generosity towards them. I have a gentle heart and hate to see anyone in pain.  I cherish my friends and always try to treat them the way I would want to be treated.
I would love to meet some of the online friends I have made - infertile community or not - and I hope it would just strengthen our relationships, bringing us closer together.

*I do have a few dear friends who are still dear to me, but we've grown (moved) apart a bit and don't talk as often as we'd like.


By the way - bonus points for anyone who can tell me what song that title is from.