I've got a confession to make. For a loooooooong period of time, whenever I read articles about how a CNBC could be the "fun, cool aunt" or be involved in various children's lives, I had a mental image of a shrinking Amel who was backing away slowly to the corner of the room, cringing in fear of being judged. "Errr...but I'm not like that!" I thought to myself.
I never felt really compelled to be involved in other children's lives and I can honestly say I'm almost scared of the thought of having to babysit a young child as I have no idea what I have to do (I'm really not used to being with small children). I feel that I can do better with older children, but even so we've spent so much time being with just the two of us that I'm rusty in that department. I have far more confidence dealing with young adult kids like my husband's elder brother's kids.
The last time we went back to Indo, I felt glad to go back to our hotel room after spending time with my brother and his family (and two kids). I had fun buying them toys and clothes, but I wouldn't volunteer to babysit the kids (for example). I wouldn't volunteer to babysit my friend's kids, either. In fact, I feel awkward when they come for a visit with their smaller children. If the child is already 7+ above, I feel less awkward with him/her.
That said, though, it still fascinates me how much I wanted/longed to be around little children when I was still trying to have a baby (I helped out at a daycare for 3 months back in 2010). I know that one reason for that was to prepare myself for motherhood, but one other reason was the strong need to prove myself that I could also be a decent mother. One other reason was probably more hormonal, because I've noticed a similar thing happening to a friend who's been dying to have a child of her own. Ever since the motherhood dream kicked in, she's been saying that ALL babies are cute and she wants to spend more time around little children. I remember vaguely that during the time I was so into my motherhood dream, I felt more fondness towards many children compared to (for example) these days. These days (after the motherhood dream is buried), I feel more selective fondness towards children (just like I did before we started TTC).
In short, I've never felt like I'm a kiddo lover, though I don't hate them, either. I think some kids are cute, some aren't. I admire (childless) people who love kids and love hanging out with kids (of various ages) and love being involved in various children's lives, but I have to admit that at times I struggled with the feeling of being "less than" those people. At times I wondered if I was lacking something as a woman and human being because I didn't actively choose to do anything much with various children.
For a loooonnngggg period of time I felt this type of shame coming and going. I wonder if the reason I felt this type of shame also had to do with the subconscious message from society that kept on throwing away the "Why don't you just adopt?" line to the infertile in general. I mean, it's as if those who want to have their own children desperately (but can't) should become like Mother Teresa or at least they're expected to do something as equally life-changing for other people's kids.
My saving grace was remembering something that happened many years ago. You see, one woman I know wasn't that maternal in her younger years compared to her peer, but when she became a working mom, she was so devoted and involved in her children's lives that it took everybody by surprise. When we complimented her and joked that we would never had thought she'd be that maternal, she said, "Well, but it's different when it's your own kids, you know?"
Remembering that story was the first step for me to help me let go of my shame. The second step was inviting my inner BFF for a long, heart-to-heart chat. The third step is publishing this post. :-)
I watched another video of Brené Brown's talk again and was reminded of how powerful it is.
One quote that rang loudly when I heard her talk was this:
"The two most powerful words when we're in struggle is 'me too'."'
I think it's especially true for disenfranchised grief. :-D
OK, I'm not going to write too long. Enjoy the videos!
Here's the transcript for the first video: Listening to shame.
And as a complement of the one above, let me share this one, too (a shorter video):
Here's a link to the summary of the second video, though not exactly the transcript: Finding Shelter in a Shame Storm.
Last but not least, I'd love to thank each one of you who's been really supportive and who's left kind and encouraging words. YOU ROCKKKKKKK!!!!! God bless each and every one of you in your own journeys!!!!
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One of the aspects of reading that I like is that it may make me understand something about myself that I haven't realized yet.
During TTC, when I was so bent on joining the motherhood tribe, I always felt out of place or even "ashamed" to say that I had no kids, because that meant I didn't belong in that tribe I wished desperately to join. That I couldn't possibly understand the intricacies of having a life growing inside me, that I couldn't possibly understand how it felt like to give birth, to hold a baby for the first time in my arms, how tough it would be to find ways to make a child avoid certain kinds of food that may make him/her allergic, how to deal with the child's bullies etc. etc. etc.
Because of this shame (actually, Mali has written a brilliant and thought-provoking post on this topic: Infertility and Shame), I felt this urge to (over)compensate for the non-mom status in whichever way possible. I think the urge came partly from myself and partly from society because there was this little voice inside me that said that the world expected something else from me because I was a non-mom, so I felt pressured or even burdened to be able to "give more" to society in other ways so to speak. This urge wasn't constant, though, and it wasn't that strong, but I did feel it every now and then back then.
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And curiously enough during that time I remember having the wish to try to understand motherhood by reading blogs about child rearing, even though that actually never really happened because my bleeding heart couldn't take it (but I accepted my closest friends kiddies stories with open arms - probably because it's easier to accept the kids that had been born before we started TTC and because I know they love their kids).
Nowadays, though, I've sensed a shift in this area. These days I don't feel ashamed anymore about my non-mom status (though I can't say for sure when the shift started). I feel more like saying, "I'm a non-mom. So what? It's true that I may not understand too much of what parents are dealing with, but in the same way I don't expect parents to truly understand what I've been going through, either. Every journey is different and even a parent's stories will differ from another's. At least I have some people who understand what I've been going through and that's enough. I'm willing to enlighten anyone who wants to listen to my infertility story, but the bottom line is that I've let go of my dream to join the motherhood tribe, so it's okay even if I don't get it. It's okay even if I can't share my own motherhood stories. It's okay even if I can't share my own tips and tricks as a mother. It's okay even if I can't show you any kiddy pictures. I'm okay."
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P.S. Mind you, I'm not saying I'm "completely healed" and feelings may fluctuate (esp. during PMS), but I'd like to call this progress and I just want to write this down for future reference. :-)
