Leason Learned #12: You can only care so much about what other people think and sometimes you have to say what you have to say.
I've reached my limit of concern for other people's complaints. I am not cold, I am not stubborn (usually), and I am not unfeeling when others are down, offended, feeling left out, or just plain sick of the world. I get it. I do. Our family has had a rough year... a ROUGH year... so maybe some of this doesn't come from just becoming parent, but all things associated with becoming an adult in general. Or maybe in a few years this will all pass and I'll be back to the overly-patient person that I was. (Probably not)
I do not respond well, at all, to whining, bitching, complaining, manipulation, or flat out guilt trips. I have watched someone I love more than anything in the world go through Hell and back without become a martyr - without turning their life into the only life, and in the toughest 7 months of their life rise out of it still as patient, honest, hard-working, and loving as they ever were -- and they never once manipulated anyone into feeling pity for them. I've watched my family rally, volunteer, and fight because of love -- and it was never because anyone complained too much. I was told from the beginning, probably from the time I could understand language, that whining gets you no where. And then I watched the "hell-and-back" and saw that they stuck to it. I am forever changed, absolutely in awe, and more proud of my family than ever. I have been brought to tears out of fear, out of stress, and out of pure, absolute love more times than I can count this year. And most recently, it was because I was so, so, so proud of and thankful for my family.
I wasn't raised to disrespect myself enough to bend over backwards for anyone who wasn't willing to do the same for me, and I can't change that now. I have absolute empathy, respect and support for anyone who is going through any hardship, from having a flat tire to a parent dying. At the age of 31, I have reached the point where if I truly and honestly have a problem and have to say something about it, I will say it. I will try to do it respectfully, and if I don't, I'll probably apologize for not being respectful or for being temporarily selfish.
None of this has changed since having Adam, but I will admit that my tolerance for these things (whining, bitching, complaining, manipulation and guilt trips) has dropped to almost nothing. Where as before my tolerance was at about 80%, now I'm at about 5%. I love understanding about people's lives and the different things they encounter. I am an unofficial socialist and a friend, always. I am an open book and a willing ear. But not if it includes a selfish motive behind it.
I say this because I am motivated by the people over the last year who have overcome obstacles rather than complained about them... the ones who have been faced with surprising news about their children's futures and have met them with joy and productivity, the ones who have made incredible sacrifices to make their families whole instead of wallowing in their misery, the ones who have done things instead of complain that nothing goes their way... the ones who make outstanding leaps of faith and end up exactly where they are supposed to be. I am weeding through all the nonsense, all the complaining, all the despair, and I'm trying desperately to filter out all the increasing bad attitudes.
I have mentioned a few times that our family has had a rough year. I'm not going to go into it because in part of the situation I was respectfully asked not to, and in other difficult parts, I didn't feel like it was anyone's business. Adam is a joy and a light in our lives and he was my muse anyway. Let's just say that our year was eventful enough that I will remember what I need to without recording it, and am pleasantly moved and proud to see what happens with love, hard work, and patience. Adam's fervor for growing up, on the other hand, is flashing by our eyes and is something we all have been focusing on.
This blog has been mostly about Adam, and I've opened myself up maybe a fraction more than I normally would, but I don't use this blog as a personal journal. I may be breaking my rule here, but by no means do I want anyone to think that my motive is just to complain.
It's completely normal and extremely frequent in this age of social networking that all parents protect themselves from judgments that are never said (but we all know are thought) -- because for some reason, when we all know how freaking hard it really is -- parents judge other parents.
You've spanked your child?
You lose your temper?
Maybe you let your child get away with too much?
Do you think you might be spoiling him?
You let your one-year old watch TV??
etc., etc.
To be clear, I have not been asked any of these questions (well, maybe one), but now when I write I constantly wonder if what I say will be judged in these ways. And I'm sure they have. As Adam gets older, and the "joys" of discipline and the bad habits and the ups and downs of toddler-hood grow ever more frequent, I seriously consider the silent judgments I've posed on other parents when I am not in their situations or dealing with their kids. And I'm wrong for that, because there are a billion different situations and a billion different kids.
- For the parent who's child kept screaming at Walmart and running through the aisles, I'm sorry for judging you.
- For the parent of the child who was biting Adam (who most like isn't reading), I'm sorry for thinking you probably weren't home enough or spending enough time disciplining.
- For the parent who still hadn't weened their 2 and a half year old from the bottle yet, I'm sorry for assuming that you were just trying to keep them a child forever. I don't know what's going on in your home or with your child.
To be clear, Adam has not (yet) bitten another child. And for me, I pick Adam up and leave in the rare situation when he's not behaving in any store (he's probably hungry, has a dirty diaper, or is extremely tired anyway). I attempt to discipline him when he shows aggressive behavior at home, and he has been independent enough to ween himself from pretty much every baby vice there is before I even had a say in it. But I am not those parents and Adam is not that child... and perhaps there was a reason that those things happened to other people when I witnessed 20 seconds to 20 minutes of their life.
(But please, don't bite my child. Just saying...)
But as a parent, I try. I try to be as patient as I possibly can. I try to pay attention to patterns of negative behavior. I am probably too good at finding patterns of positive behavior. If what I'm doing isn't working, I try to find an alternative solution (Que image of Adam's un-ending interest in the trash can, and my attempt to get him to use as he should... let's find things to throw away). Adam has for the last 3 weeks been waking up in the middle of the night, crying uncontrollably. I still don't know what to do. But I will continue to try until I figure it out.
A lot of times, my attempts don't work. A lot of times, I find myself extremely frustrated and sad. I find myself even more frustrated and sad when I want to be with him but I have to go work, especially lately.
I typically don't say everything that is going on in our house, mostly because it's really not anyone else's business. I bring all of this up because I recently discovered how truly precious Adam is (as if you didn't need another reason from me, because from my blog it's quite obvious).
I was recently told that on top of the PCOS (polycistic overian syndrome, where your body produces a lot of testosterone), I also have endometriosis. Endometriosis is not uncommon at all - lots of women have it - and I've had it my whole life, so it's not a death sentence as far as having children is concerned. However, when you hear, from a doctor, that your "uterus is like a war zone," your mind starts wandering...
And the first thought was: What if Adam is my only? The second thought was: No wonder we created a superhuman child... he had to be to survive the "warzone."
Since I've always wanted at least 2, probably 3 children, I've been living this half-devastated existence for the last two weeks. In regular life, I haven't received any news that should really destroy me, and I try to move on in optimism and like I normally was. It's not like anyone told me I'd "never have kids"... but try telling that rationally to someone who always though of herself as a "mother." When anyone asked me when I was little what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was either "architect," or "veterinarian," but mostly, "mom." (I had a good role model). "Mom" is what I actually end up being (well, and a project manager/analyst for an information system at an extremely large telecommunications company).
But because of this news, I question where I am. Should I be home more with Adam? If this is my chance, should I be doing more? Is that cough more than a cough? Am I even doing anything right? Is it even worth talking about? Am I over-reacting? And my least favorite of all... an article I came across when I was "googling" how to allieviate symptoms of endometriosis... Dr. Urges Women to Have Children at a Younger Age. If I hear that I'm probably barren because I was "too old" when I started having kids from one more person... for god's sake, I was 29 when I started trying to have kids. Not 42.
But anyway.
In the aftermath of this recent news I am well aware of the detrimental things I could be doing to Adam. He is not exactly a cuddly child, but at this age when he knows I'm truly upset he hugs me. I don't want him to think I'm always sad and I don't want him to think that he always has to comfort me. I don't expect him to turn into a cuddly baby, but when he's willing to sit with me I turn off all dishes needing to be done, all preparations needing to be made, and all bedtimes are non-existent (but he's usually ready at 8:30 anyway). While I did not want or expect to only have one child, I have to accept that it might be possible, and he does not have to make up for that. I will make it a personal effort to make it clear that my medical "problems" are not his issue to deal with. He is a gift, and not part of an incomplete package. I don't need him to make anything "better" for me. And while I may sometimes complain that I wish I was with him more or that I feel an overwhelming stress to be absolutely 100% the best for him constantly, I've made a pact to myself that I will do it (or try it) instead of just worry and complain about it. I take care of him; he doesn't have to take care of me. And... for Christ's sake, I could still have more kids, STOP WORRYING ABOUT IT.
I have role models who have always been there, I have supportive friends, I have support at work, I have found new support in places that I didn't expect, and long-lost friends in a social networking site (duh, facebook, that many, but not all, people use to flaunt their problems instead of socialize). I am not looking for pity or sympathy. Whining gets you no where.
And because of this, despite the silent judgments you risk when you publish something very personal, I have trouble completely censoring myself when I've found that sometimes when you're honest you can find the answers or alternative solutions you were looking for. I read books, I do my homework, and I creatively problem-solve. I am not an experienced parent, and I am not always seeking advice from extremely experienced parents (experience does not always mean solutions), but I like knowing that there's a small group of people I trust (not a random internet board) where if they can't provide advice, at least they can give support. And for the people who were sitting there, fuming, and thinking, "why didn't you tell me?"... well, sometimes you have to ask how someone else is doing. I am not a closed book.
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