Musings on bloggyness

Oh, how life has changed. I still read all of the many blogs that I read while TTC and on bedrest, but I feel so disconnected. I want to cheer everyone on, and am continually thankful for the near 2 years of support I have been given from this community. But as a new parent, one of the ones who "succeeded," I feel like a bit of a chump. It is like being stuck between two worlds. One where I relate whole-heartedly to those on the roller-coaster, or on couch-arrest. But where I "fit," momentarily, into the fertile world. I am one of the lucky ones who conceived and birthed a child (not without many scary moments.) Yet I still feel uncomfortable when I see a pregnant woman out and about in the world. Oh, aren't you special to be pregnant and allowed to do your own grocery shopping! I make a lot of assumptions about how easy it is for other women. I know my assumptions are sometimes wrong, even cruel.

The spring has been a rude awakening. As the frost melts, I have been spending more time out in the world-- strolling the boy around the neighborhood. I have run into many an acquaintance who never even knew I was pregnant, let alone have a six month old! It feels weird to have to rehash my rocky pregnancy in a way that is palatable to someone you don't know so well. Surely, not everyone needs to know about the mechanics of my faulty cervix (ewww.) I certainly don't share what came before then. No one really wants to hear about your multiple miscarriages and your lap/hyst.

I am, in general, a shy person-- with strangers at least. It takes a lot out of me to negotiate small talk. I feel nervous and silly. Being a parent has not changed that. I know some women who have "blossomed" after having kids. Their children become a conduit through which they are more free in conversation. "We have the same stroller! Oh my gosh, I have never seen anyone with that stroller!" I don't know if it is the predictability of the conversations, or the strange personal nature of them that turns me off. Either way, I am whole-heartily disinterested in talking with strangers about my son. Yes, that is sweet and nice that someone tells me they think he is cute-- but seriously, what else would one say! Um, your baby's ears stick out funny!?! I don't have the privilege of recounting my smooth pregnancy and uncomplicated, unmedicated birth. I don't get to compare notes after running into a couple I attended birth classes with. I couldn't go to birth classes, because I was stuck in bed! My son is a person, not an accessory. He is a baby like any other. And while he is very special to me, I don't want his to grow up thinking he is the center of the universe. I want him to be part of the collective universe. I guess when it comes to him in public space, I am much more private than I thought I would be. He is not a trophy. He is a little boy.

And perhaps being outed from both camps is ok for now, because my glorious and beautiful boy takes up most of my time (phew, if feels good to brag about how marvelous he is.) But I suspect the day will come when I need to lean on this blog again. There will be questions about progesterone shots, bleeding and a cerclage. There will be musings about how to mind a toddler when you are supposed to stay in bed. At least I hope there will be. Not to say that I look forward to another complicated pregnancy. But I look forward to having another kid. If I am honest with myself, I would really like 4 or 5 (I am totally serious.) But on account of my body, 2 may be the limit. One, may actually be the limit. Who knows. I fear speculating.

I just love that I have this blog, and that I can read about everyone else's experiences too. It is just rad that this world, this place, exists for me-- and for you. So even though my posts are becoming few and far between, and won't forget how I am like you, and how you are like me. And I won't ever stop dreaming that all of you some day get what I am so amazingly fortunate to have. A child.

Oh, and the boy is sitting up! Joy!