Then and Now: Feelings on Motherhood

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. :-)

Mercy

Visited FIL in the old people's home on Father's Day last Sunday. Having been an Alzheimer's patient for years, his condition is slowly but surely getting worse. Even when MIL was still taking care of him at home, it was clear how tough it was to take care of him on her own, especially since one of the medication made his body stiffer than ever!!! They changed the medication, but it made him restless at nights and she couldn't sleep at all because she was afraid he may leave the house or fall down. After all, she's been wearing hearing aids since she was young, so she couldn't hear anything much without the hearing aids (have to shout really loud if she's not wearing them).

Watching FIL being a bed-ridden patient is tough. Must be especially tough for MIL, who deep down still wants to take care of him at home, but she just can't do it anymore. It took two healthy nurses a lot of time just to change his diaper and clean him up. MIL can't possibly do that anymore, especially since FIL's legs aren't as strong anymore to hold his own body weight. 

Every time I visit FIL, I'm reminded of mercy and it makes me think of my old age. If God gives me a long life where my health deteriorates in ways I may not possibly guess, unless hubby can take care of me at home, I'll be at the mercy of other people (strangers). 

I hope that if strangers have to take care of me when I'm "not myself" anymore, I hope they'll have mercy on me. Some people become so belligerent when they get older whereas some, like FIL, become so passive. Some manage to stay relatively healthy until the day they die (like my Dad who could still wash himself and did many things on his own until the day he got the heart attack despite the onset of dementia). 

I'll never know what'll happen to me, but seeing FIL makes me want to send a wish to God that if something like this happens (either I become belligerent or I have dementia or Alzheimer's), then I hope my caretaker(s) will have mercy on me and will forgive me for my actions/words if I become such a different person later on.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

- Shakespeare