Friday I'm in Love: Blessed

I don't care if this makes me sound like I'm kinda full of myself.  I recently discovered this post I wrote during my first year of blogging and I've fallen in love with it.

11/11/2007

Blessed

I just discovered a wonderful blog called Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. It deals with infertility, pregnancy loss and adoption and is an amazing resource for people going through those challenges. The sidebar has the longest blogroll I have ever seen, filled with blogs talking about people's struggles to become parents. As I read it, checking out a few blogs here and there, it was all I could do not to run upstairs and kiss my children. (Which would have woken them up, so I didn't. Barring natural disasters and other dangers, there's no way I'm waking them up. Because while I may be feeling joy at their existence, they would be feeling annoyance at being woken up and instead of a touching scene of love and cuddling, there would be tears and crankiness.)

I did not have Ironflower until I was 33. Not super late, but not exactly early, either. And I thought I would have trouble conceiving her. Because I was in my thirties. Because I was a smoker (I quit when I was pregnant - calm down). Because it seemed that all the mommies I knew had spent time "trying", charting their cycles and propping their legs in the air.

Instead, Hubby and I got lax about birth control. We were living together, engaged but not in any rush to make it legal. And surprise! Along came Ironflower. I spent the first trimester in a state of shock (when I wasn't too nauseous and tired to have any emotions at all, of course). I felt a bit like an impostor, not having even tried to get pregnant yet. But by the time she came along we were (sort of ) ready for her and for parenthood.

When Ironflower was 11 months old, we found out I was pregnant again. Four months pregnant. I hadn't had a regular cycle, what with the breastfeeding. My clothes were tight, but I'd attributed it to the chocolate I was eating to deal with the horrible conditions at work. The weird tummy flutterings? I assumed they were gas. Really. (I have ulcerative colitis and weird feelings in my tummy are pretty normal for me)

So I actually got pregnant with Lovebug while trying NOT to get pregnant. After the shock, and having to admit to the world that I was four months pregnant and HADN'T NOTICED, a whirlwind of activity began. Thus Lovebug was not forced to wear his sister's pink clothing or sleep in a purple butterfly bumpered crib.

But I began to feel guilty. Why had it been so damn easy for me? Why was I so blessed? I felt bad when talking to people who were struggling to conceive or adopt. I wanted to apologize, to say I'm sorry it was so easy for me. A little part of me always does.

But finally someone pointed out to me that if I wanted to feel guilty about something, I could also feel guilty about the fact that I get (more than) enough to eat, that I have a nice place to live, that I can walk, that crazy militias aren't roaming my town, that I don't live in a war zone. . . . . .

And so instead of feeling guilty about things I can't control, I'm working on feeling blessed. All the time, not just when I'm reminded of it. Even when Lovebug humiliates me in the grocery store, I am blessed. Even when Ironflower's whining makes me want to bang my head against a wall, I am blessed.

Like Gravity on Jupiter

I got nothing.

Obviously, with my lack of posting and all. How are you?

There's a lot of stuff that I don't want to think about right now, to be honest. And I find it really hard to type with my head buried in the proverbial sand. Or up my ass. Proverbially. Whatever.

I miss blogging when I don't write. I miss my blogging community. I miss all four of my wonderful readers. So. Look, here's a list of stuff I haven't wanted to tell you about:

1. A wonderful band member died. I will be honoring her memory in a later post.

2. Some dear friends are very worried about the health of family members. There's absolutely nothing I can do or say because it's probably not going to be okay. And that makes my heart hurt for them.

3. We've had some major financial setbacks. Again. Things could turn out for the better, or we could be living in a trailer on my in-laws' rural Kansas property before you know it.

4. Newtown, in addition to heart break and tears, has given me reminders of things I'd rather forget. When I was teaching, I had this crazed parent. Who made threats. Against me. While I was 8 months pregnant with Lovebug. I had plan about hiding my students in the closet, blankets and a hammer stashed near the window in case I had time to get them out. I pretended to be just fine about everything, because that's what I do. And things did turn out fine. Except for the sads I seem to be having.

But!

I know that I am so very, very blessed. Part of my avoidance has also been in pursuit of a wonderful Christmas, which we had. Another part of the avoidance has been this family history project I'm doing, which has been terribly interesting. So the sads aren't winning, they're just dragging me down.

It's like trying to dance on Jupiter. You can still do it, but the gravitational pull makes it a hell of a lot harder.

Blessed

I just discovered a wonderful blog called Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. It deals with infertility, pregnancy loss and adoption and is an amazing resource for people going through those challenges. The sidebar has the longest blogroll I have ever seen, filled with blogs talking about people's struggles to become parents. As I read it, checking out a few blogs here and there, it was all I could do not to run upstairs and kiss my children. (Which would have woken them up, so I didn't. Barring natural disasters and other dangers, there's no way I'm waking them up. Because while I may be feeling joy at their existence, they would be feeling annoyance at being woken up and instead of a touching scene of love and cuddling, there would be tears and crankiness.)

I did not have Ironflower until I was 33. Not super late, but not exactly early, either. And I thought I would have trouble conceiving her. Because I was in my thirties. Because I was a smoker (I quit when I was pregnant - calm down). Because it seemed that all the mommies I knew had spent time "trying", charting their cycles and propping their legs in the air.

Instead, Hot Guy and I got lax about birth control. We were living together, engaged but not in any rush to make it legal. And surprise! Along came Ironflower. I spent the first trimester in a state of shock (when I wasn't too nauseous and tired to have any emotions at all, of course). I felt a bit like an impostor, not having even tried to get pregnant yet. But by the time she came along we were (sort of ) ready for her and for parenthood.

When Ironflower was 11 months old, we found out I was pregnant again. Four months pregnant. I hadn't had a regular cycle, what with the breastfeeding. My clothes were tight, but I'd attributed it to the chocolate I was eating to deal with the horrible conditions at work. The weird tummy flutterings? I assumed they were gas. Really. (I have ulcerative colitis and weird feelings in my tummy are pretty normal for me)

So I actually got pregnant with Lovebug while trying NOT to get pregnant. After the shock, and having to admit to the world that I was four months pregnant and HADN'T NOTICED, a whirlwind of activity began. Thus Lovebug was not forced to wear his sister's pink clothing or sleep in a purple butterfly bumpered crib.

But I began to feel guilty. Why had it been so damn easy for me? Why was I so blessed? I felt bad when talking to people who were struggling to conceive or adopt. I wanted to apologize, to say I'm sorry it was so easy for me. A little part of me always does.

But finally someone pointed out to me that if I wanted to feel guilty about something, I could also feel guilty about the fact that I get (more than) enough to eat, that I have a nice place to live, that I can walk, that crazy militias aren't roaming my town, that I don't live in a war zone. . . . . .

And so instead of feeling guilty about things I can't control, I'm working on feeling blessed. All the time, not just when I'm reminded of it. Even when Lovebug humiliates me in the grocery store, I am blessed. Even when Ironflower's whining makes me want to bang my head against a wall, I am blessed.