Having compassion...

Before I delve into what's on my mind, just a quick update. It's going well with my little family. I've been scarce, still, because yes, can you believe it, I'm STILL nauseous!! Gosh, 23 weeks pregnant and still having morning sickness (which of course isn't contained to mornings only). Just my luck. Apart from that and normal pregnancy complaints, and the horribly low bloodpressure, me and baby are doing absolutely fine. (S)he is a busy body! Kicking allot, and even having hickups at least once a day. Sometimes quite a bit irritating, LOL. Something bouncing up and down in rythme in your tummy. Funny feeling, that.

It's going well with the other 3 children as well. We had a quick holiday, much too short, where we rested quite a bit. The children played all day long, entertaining each other. And they read allot, which made mommy very happy of course. Boeboe is doing okay, not experiencing too many symptoms, just the normal everyday struggle with the tummy, and the rare bladder accident every second week or so. And of course, the regular falls, but now that it's winter, she's in shoes so it hurts less. We've made an appointment with her previous orthopeadic surgeon to first see what he thinks before we go ahead and build her shoe up. So at the moment, life is good all around for all of us. Monkeyman had his teeth fixed, and again, it looks absolutely beautiful. Thank goodness that's over and done with. He handled the anaesthesia like last time...not too well. :-( The dr was very kind, I held Monkeyman on my lap while the dr chatted to me, unobtrusively holding the little "pipe" under Monkeyman's chin. He just fell asleep! Amazingly easy. Unfortunately, afterwards he cried and fought bitterly, and was nauseous and tired the rest of the day. And again he got a sinus infection from the pipe down the throat, or the anaesthesia, or maybe it was a cold. In any case, after about 5 days he was back to himself, with 2 gorgeous new teeth and a wonderfully bright smile. :-)

So what has been on my mind...compassion. People that have it, or don't. Sometimes, I'm a hardheaded woman and stubborn about something. Like my passion about small children and creches. I'm pretty sure my compassion could be more in that regard. It's geared towards my point of view, as a SAHM. So my compassion may seem limitted to working mommies. But then, in other areas, I get astounded when I talk to people and see how little compassion they have towards other parents.

Like the newest "buzz-word". Gender Dissapointment, or for short, GD. So many, many women have this. When they wanted one specific gender and find out their unborn baby (or newborn) is the opposite gender. Some mommies cannot find it in their hearts to understand this absolute dissapointment, sadness and even a sense of failure. They feel that when you are able to HAVE a baby, and you have a HEALTHY baby, you should be grateful, over the moon and the happiest person alive. I can understand this lack of compassion, in some ways. Especially when it comes from a childless couple, who would give anything for a baby. Or when someone went through the terrible heartache of loosing a pregnancy, baby or child. Or when they personally know the intense struggle a parent goes through with a special needs baby. How could you blame them for showing no compassion toward those that's lucky enough to have a healthy, gorgeous baby. What should it matter what gender it is?

But it does. I personally know this. I've been through a miscarriage. I have a special needs child. I know the heartache both of those can cause. I have never lost a baby after birth, so I would never assume I know how those parents feel. But even throughout all my experiences, I STILL get it. I get the heartache, the longing, the anger, the dispair a mommy feels who wanted a little girl. I understand. And I show compassion. Because I too, could've been one of them. So easily, God could've given me 4 sons. As it is, I think He may have given me 3 sons. And I can't help but be sad and dissapointed. I love my boys. God knows, I love them with all my heart and soul and I would never, ever trade them for any other baby. They're mine.

But.

I want(ed) another little girl. I wanted the bows and butterflies and pink polka dots again. I wanted the little dresses, the dolls for Christmas, the softness that comes with only a little girl. I had the bugs, the dirty fingernails, the little cars and action figures twice now. I would've loved to have another go at the frilly again. But alas, something tells me that my feeling that this could be a little girl, is just wishful thinking. I can't be for sure. One night, I'll dream about a baby wrapped in a pink little blanket. And the next evening, I'll have the most gorgeous little boy that pops out without pain, LOL. So I have no idea what I'm having. The past few weeks, I'm having a strong suspicion that it's a boy. But I'm coming to terms that I'll be fine, either way. This is my last baby, and I would've loved to have 2 pigeon pairs. But, I will also be okay with 3 boys, because I already have my beautiful daughter who I prayed for so very very hard.

This gives me a little bit of a look inside the heartache of a mommy who have 2 or 3 boys and desperately wanted a little girl. It's not the baby boy who's the focus of the anger and sadness. It's the loss of the gender you wanted. The loss of a dream that now will never happen. The loss of a whole different life. The loss of so many possible futures. No wedding dress drama, no late-night girly talks, no cutex-evenings, no bows and dresses, no pink and purple frills, no playing Barbie dolls together or making tiny baby dresses for her dolls. So many losses. Big and small. Things that you'll never, ever have. Because you don't have that daughter you wanted so desperately.

This doesn't mean you don't love the 2nd (or 3rd or 4th) little boy you're carrying any less. It doesn't mean you wish him away or doesn't want to be pregnant anymore. It doesn't mean that you'll want to swop him after birth for a little girl! It just means that you have to come to terms with the loss of a dream you may have carried with you for 30 or even 40 years. To have a little girl of your own. To have the bond with that little girl, that you shared with your mother. Or like in my case, the loss of giving my daughter the sister she so desperately craves. The loss of giving her the love and support from a sister like I have.

Someone said that why is it that PND (post natal depression) gets recognised by almost everyone now as not the mommy's fault, and not in her control, but something like Gender Dissapointment gets frowned upon? How is it that one woman's depression about something, gets recognised and treated, while another has to hear it's "all in her head" and she has to "fix herself". How would we know how deep her dissapointment goes? How deep her sadness and depression goes? And what triggered it? I agree with that person. Just as PND is real, and not the mommy's fault or in her control to "just fix it", people should understand that gender dissapointment may also not be in that person's control or ability to "just fix herself". She too may need time and support.

How can people not be compassionate about this? How could they be so harsh, to judge these feelings, these mommies, for feeling that way?

Same goes for other parenting issues and choices. Like formula vs breastfeeding, natural vs Csection, SAHM vs working mommy, private school vs public school, junk food vs all-healthy diets, etc.

From as long as I can remember, I wanted children. Especially a little girl, but any baby would do. I played dolls until after the age where my peers were already dating boys and worry about make-up and periods. It's all I ever wanted out of life. A baby. So from the start, my mom would tell (or rather warn) me that I must not be fixated on a natural/vaginal birth. Because I'm a tiny, thin, frail little thing. Severely underweight, short and the thinnest bone structure you can imagine. She told me about c-section and that I must be prepared about it.

I would always be grateful to her for this preparation. I went into my first labour with huge, open eyes. I knew it was a chance only. I knew it's something I want, and something I wanted to try for. Natural birth. But I also knew that once I tried, I would be satisfied with any outcome, as long as baby is fine. So when, after 10 hours of active labour, my baby got stuck, I happily agreed to a c-section. The one nurse came to me, put her hand on my arm and told me that I must not feel like a failure. That I must not be sad about it. I looked at her all bewildered and then at my husband, silently mouthing "what's this woman going on about??". Because to me, it really was fine. A few hours later my baby was born via c-sect and I didn't mind one bit. I had my contractions and labour. I had my wish. I now know how contractions feel like. I know what is labour. I know the pain and the fear and the excitement and the buzz. I may not know what the last pushing stage feel like, but I'm okay with that. I had the experience I wanted. And my baby turned out just fine. Healthy, strong and the best sleeper ever!

But having wanted a natural birth, and getting a c-section in return, I can understand other women's dissapointment. It's a process. Sometimes a long and hard process that can even take years, or until you have a 2nd baby. Or maybe never. Who are we, to judge those women who cry about it? They can't just shut their feelings, turn the tap off and ignore it all? So how can we judge them because they have that feelings? Let them process it. Support them. Try to understand that they didn't ask to feel that way. It is what it is. Let them be sad. Let them be angry. Let them be dissapointed. Don't deny them their feelings, by telling them their baby's health is more important. They know that. They're not stupid.

Same with breastfeeding. I was one of the very very lucky ones. I breastfed like it was something I did all my life. With my small frame and lack of any fat on any part of my body, I don't have the cupsize one would think is necessary for breastfeeding. So growing up, I would say "eeuuwww", I'm never going to do that. Part of it was fear of what breastfeeding would do to my already non-existing womanly look, and part of it was revulsion for something so animalistic!! How silly I've been!! So, once pregnant and reading all the books, I realised that I wanted to do this for my baby. Because it would keep him healthy. So I tried. Again with a very open mind. I bought all the bottles and tools necessary to formula feed for just in case. I would see how it goes. So even when they gave my baby formula (long story) once after birth, I wasn't too upset because this was all a trial-run for me in any case! Then, within a week, I had so much milk I almost (ya, okay, really just almost!) looked like Dolly Parton. And suddenly, I felt sooooo proud and happy and like I was the only woman ever to achieve something so amazing as making her baby's own milk. Feeding him exactly what and how much he needs. And seeing him shot out from the 75th percentile to the 97th on what my body did! I felt ontop of the world! I felt invincible. I felt like if I could do this for my baby, I could do anything. I felt like the best mommy to this baby. And it made me so happy. It came so naturally, so easy. I totally forgot about c-sections vs vaginal birth. Because what did that matter, when here I was feeding my own child, out of my own body, with so much success and ease. And watching him turn into the most friendly, fat, squealing little baby who slept through from age 5 weeks, just cemented this feeling that I did my child good. I did him good. Wow.

And I became a breastfeeding expert and tried to convince everyone in my path about how wonderful this is, and how wonderful it could be. But then, I read about other people's heartache. Those who tried, and couldn't breastfeed. Or those that chose to formula feed for whatever personal reason, and now get bashed and made to feel guilty about choosing something "less good" for their babies. And I realised that I didn't want to be made out as less of a mother because I couldn't have my baby naturally. Why should someone that formula feeds, be made out less of a mother? It doesn't diminish my fervent believe in the good of breastmilk. But I can still have compassion for the mommy that chose formula, for whatever reason. I can still try to understand why she wanted or needed to do it. And I can still support her that formula can be good for a baby too. That her baby can also thrive and be contend and happy. That she too, may have done good for her baby, even if he was born via a c-section, got formula from the start and never co-slept or whatever other decision his parents made.

We mommies, we should be more compassionate. We should understand that each of us have unique circumstances. We have unique wishes and experiences that moulded us in our lives. That we cannot live each other's lives. We cannot be in one another's shoes. We have to create our own happiness, and should stop living through others. Of course we can be pro towards some choices, like natural birth, or co-sleeping. But we should stop judging those that believe it's not essential for a happy, thriving baby. We should stop making that mommy feel guilty about her choice, by being too vocal about what we believe is right or wrong. And we should stop feeling guilty for our own choices, when we read about someone else's choices. She has the right to feel ontop of the world, because she was able to deliver vaginally. Let her be happy about it! Rejoice with her! Don't deny her feeling proud for what her body achieved. And don't feel guilty, because you think she thinks less of you for not being able to do it. Be proud of what you have achieved. A healthy, gorgeous baby who loves you and his daddy more than any other person in this world.

As a passionate, argumentative person myself, I so easily fall into the trap of trying to convince people of how right I am. That what I do, or did, must be the best choice because look at how well it turned out for me. But who am I to say what is best for another mommy, or another baby? How can I be so presumptious to know what another baby needs? I totally believe in the saying "Mommy knows best". Each mother knows their child intimately. They know what they need, and what is best for them.

Today, my 4-year old came to sit close to me, laying his head on my shoulder and looking adoringly up into my eyes...and he said "Mommy, you're my very best mommy". Aawww. So sweet. Not that he has any choice of any other mommy, but that's fine. All that matters, is that I'm his very best mommy. :)