filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
A friend sent this picture to me and it made me laugh out loud.
Then it got me wondering how this could work for those women (and it’s usually women) at baby showers and family gatherings who unwittingly assume that yours will be the next belly to be celebrated and adored. I haven’t come up with an appropriate equivalent yet, but I’m working on it.
It’s Whiny Wednesday, your chance to let off steam among friends. Feel free to vent at will.
A friend sent this picture to me and it made me laugh out loud.Then it got me wondering how this could work for those women (and it’s usually women) at baby showers and family gatherings who unwittingly assume that yours will be the next belly to be celebrated and adored. I haven’t come up with an appropriate equivalent yet, but I’m working on it.
It’s Whiny Wednesday, your chance to let off steam among friends. Feel free to vent at will.
By Solo Girl
I have a large extended family; we have to rent a hall for big family holidays so we can all get together. And now all those sisters and female cousins are newly married and reproducing. Every time a baby shower comes up I’m invited, and I wrestle with myself over whether or not I should be able to go yet.
I’ve always been supportive and encouraging with my family, happy to celebrate in another’s happiness. It’s been four many years since my dream died, and I get the sense that I’m expected to be “over it” by now.
Unsure and not wanting family to think I’m selfish or emotionally immature, I went to a cousin’s baby shower about a year ago. I mentally prepared myself ahead of time. For example, I’m terrified of flying, but I know that there is lift-off, food, a movie and a landing, and then it’s done. I thought about how there would be food, presents and games at this shower, and then it would be done. I thought to myself “I should be able do this, even my own Mom is expecting me to go.”
I thought the worst part would be the games, but I was wrong. It was the chitchat. I actually got stuck between my mother and a cousin having a conversation on the couch about how all the women in our family have long labors. Seriously. When I got home I wrote myself a note in black marker and stuck it on my kitchen pin board where it still remains today: “You never have to go to another baby shower ever again. No one will notice; no one will care. It’s torturous. Don’t Go. Don’t feel guilty”.
But a year later I still get shower invites and I continue to question whether I am – or should be – ready to attend now. And I want to know, is it ever going to be something I can attend? And what can I tell my family that will help them understand how painful it is to attend without sounding like I’m feeling sorry for myself after all this time? They have high expectations of me, and I really do think they mean well. I was in a deep depression four years ago, and I think they are trying to make me normal again. I think.
I’m glad Irina Vodar is producing a documentary on the subject of infertility that some helpful social norms will come of it.
How do you handle these situations?
Solo Girl lives on her own with her 2+ dogs in Ontario, Canada. She focuses her time on volunteer work and fostering rescue dogs.
A friend posted this picture on Facebook and it made me laugh out loud.
Then it got me wondering how this could work for those women (and it’s usually women) at baby showers and family gatherings who unwittingly assume that yours will be the next belly to be celebrated and adored. I haven’t come up with an appropriate equivalent yet, but I’m working on it.
It’s Whiny Wednesday and I know that for those of you in countries that celebrate Mother’s Day this weekend, this week could also lovingly be called Hell Week. So, here’s your chance to let off steam among friends. Feel free to vent at will.
Recently, my friend calling me, fuming.
She’d been “volunteered” to co-host a baby shower for a woman she knows. Note that I didn’t say a “for a friend.” This woman is the wife of her partner’s colleague. Their relationship is such that she’s only heard about the pregnancy through the grapevine, and not even from the woman herself.
The kicker? The other two “volunteer” co-hosts are both women who don’t have children.
Maybe my friend should be flattered that her organizational skills are so valued, but she doesn’t feel that way. She feels it’s assumed she has time to put together a party because she doesn’t have kids (even though she’s a busy business owner.)
I’m wondering if that person is also thinking that these married, childless women are going to be paid back some time soon with showers of their own. I can’t speak for the other two women, but that’s not the case with my friend, and organizing a celebration for someone else’s baby is not something she’s currently glad to do.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. You can whine on behalf of a put-upon friend if you’d like, or feel free to whine for yourself.
By Kathleen Guthrie
I thought it was some kind of spoof. While watching our San Francisco Giants lose to the San Diego Padres, we caught a vague ad about a “World Championship Baby!” Huh?
I went online the next morning to learn more and discovered that, yes indeed, there is a contest to recognize a baby who was conceived around 7:54 pm on November 1, when the Giants beat the Rangers to clinch last year’s World Series. The winning baby, expected to arrive on August 1, will receive a named brick at AT&T Park, a gift card for $2,010, and an “official certificate signed by the Giants.” Meanwhile, fans can browse an online gallery of moms-to-be and their ultrasound images.
This whole thing makes my skin crawl. Maybe I’m envious and oversensitive. I can’t say, however, that I’ll feel any better if the geniuses in marketing try to make it up to me by having a “Childfree Women Free!” Day next season.
Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. Kinder-soccer is still her favorite spectator sport.
I just received a pregnancy announcement in the mail. Let me repeat that. I just received a pregnancy announcement in the mail, not a birth announcement, but a card informing me of a potential birth, a birth that is forecast to happen next year!
I was especially surprised because I’d seen the return address on the envelope and knew that the sender was a woman in her late 50s! Turns out it was an announcement of a grandchild-to-be. I know. But wait, it gets stranger. Tucked inside the card was a copy of a sonogram image of my friend’s daughter-in-law’s uterus and her 12-week old peanut.
Now granted, I’m a little old-fashioned in these regards. Coming from a culture that subscribes to the “don’t count your chickens until they’re hatched” mantra, it took me a while to adapt to the idea of baby showers and giving gifts before a baby is born. And frankly, after my own dabbling in infertility, and having heard your stories, I’m beginning to think that this notion of waiting isn’t so old-fashioned after all.
To say this least, this pregnancy announcement caught me off guard and, all things considered, I think a phone call would have sufficed, don’t you?
It’s Whiny Wednesday and this is what’s under my skin this week. What’s under yours?
~ "a raw, transparent account of the gut-wrenching journey of infertility."
~ "a welcome sanity check for women left to wonder how society became so fixated on motherhood."
