I don’t know why, but I’m feeling angry and sad at the moment.
Maybe it’s because we’re going to get a fourth opinion, things are moving forward, we might be about to do something big and, err, doey, about the infertility/RPL Suck Permanence that is my life. It’s frightening. Suck Permanence may be deeply unpleasant and soul-destroying, but it tends not to put your soul on the line and then jump up and down on it in hobnailed boots.
Maybe it’s because I’m feeling a tad lonely these days. Hello, Gentle Readers. How many of you are five, six, seven, more, years into trying to have a child, and yet still childless? Do you also, just sometimes, feel a bit left-in-a-ditch? Not that anyone wants to leave us in a ditch, of course not. But here is the ditch of years-and-years-and-nothing, and we are in it, and quite a lot of our best and most beloved cheerleaders aren’t, and there are moments when we just feel… slightly… a tad… well, left-in-a-ditch. I must give myself a hearty slap and shake before I start wailing ‘nobody understands meeeeeeeeeeee’. So jejune.
And I’ve not done myself any favours by falling out of the blogging-and-commenting loop the past few months (aha! Favourite punctuation of the day, the hyphen!). Woe is me, self-inflicted woe is me too. Woe!
And then there’s my uterus. My period is due next Monday, possibly Tuesday. I would like a pint of strong coffee and a very large bottle of wine now please. Remind me to tell you about the actual state of said uterus at some point when we’re all either slightly drunk or feeling very strong-stomached. *shudder*
Anyway! And another thing that made me angry today! –
I was in a coffee shop this lunch-time, buying soup, when I overheard two women at the table behind me. One was saying: ‘No, I don’t have kids.’ The other replied, in tones of excitable jollity: ‘Oh, but you should! Kids are great!’
Oh, for the sake of fuck.
I took my soup and my tea and slunk sloshily away. I don’t even know how the first woman reacted. But on behalf of all childless people everywhere, I’d like to say:
Never say ‘You should have kids!’ to a childless person.
One: They really don’t want kids. They know they don’t want kids, can’t afford kids financially or psychologically or physically, don’t like kids perhaps, and did I mention? Do not want kids. Telling them they should have kids regardless? Anyone who has the intelligence and insight to know they can’t do parenting and then take steps to prevent themselves becoming a parent should be celebrated. I can think of few acts more morally awkward than bringing an unwanted, unloved child into this world. I know many oops! pregnancies have turned out for the best, and the parent has found new reserves of love and strength and dealt with it with grace and courage, even if that includes the courage to let the child go to another family. But then, so many more (in my own family, even, and by the dozen) have turned out, if not actually horrifically, then into low-grade, dreary, resentful misery which sets up a whole new generation of neurotic and damaged people to be unwilling and shitty parents. It’s just not fair to do that. It’s not fair to wish parenting on people who bloody well know it’s not something they can handle. Think of the children! A person who does not want kids, and therefore does not have them, should have their hand shaken, and that is the end of that.
Two: They really do want kids. Best case scenario, they have only recently started trying for a baby, and will have one very soon, and your thoughtless squeaky remark is merely utterly pointless and bossy. They’re already on that! FFS! More likely, they want kids, but can’t have them. They are still single, perhaps, so just rub that the fuck in why don’t you? Or they’ve been trying for a while. You know you’ve just basically slapped them in the face? Or maybe they’ve been trying for years, or had a miscarriage? Well, now, would you go up to a car-crash victim in a wheelchair and burble: ‘Legs! They’re great! You should try having some!’? Would you skip past a homeless man shrieking: ‘Houses are fabulous, dude! I love my house!’? Would you prance up to a widow or widower and chortle: ‘Isn’t marriage great? Why aren’t you married? Try being married!’? No? But you just did the moral equivalent, you turnip-head.
Excuse me; I am going to fume picturesquely in the middle distance.