Just about 8 weeks have passed since my miscarriage and I’m back where I started. I’m a non-Mom again. I like my wine, I love my dogs, and I have a closet full of baby things –see my last post for reference.
Some will say that because our baby was never born, I was never a Mom to begin with. I say, I spent about 8 weeks with a little friend growing inside me — and that’s good enough for me. Baby B was ours. Baby B was still a tiny life that ended way too soon. I’ll always feel that loss.
Even while I was pregnant, I still identified better with the non-Moms. Some people leap into the Mom thing wholeheartedly and want to hold all the babies. I was not that person. I still had non-Mom things to talk about. We still planned to travel to Switzerland. We were still free. When the miscarriage happened, all the Moms I know started to write to share their own stories. Suddenly they could relate to me. Suddenly we were at the same level. Now that the initial shock of our loss has worn off, and the Oklahoma wind blew this new normal into our lives, I feel my brief membership has been rescinded.
It’s like “Sorry, we don’t know how to label you anymore.”
I’m guilty as well. I know I’ve segregated myself back into the non-Moms club. It’s my comfort zone. I’m 33 and have spent all my life here. No part of me ever wanted to join a playgroup. Too many people. Too many kids. I never wanted to talk about baby poop colors, or how you gave birth, and I didn’t want to talk about it when I was pregnant either. And the breastfeeding debate. What you do is your choice and I respect what works best for you. If you’re not feeding your baby Mountain Dew, then I’m going to give your intelligence the benefit of the doubt. I expected the same courtesy in return.
Someone shared a great article on how society often pressures people into believing that everyone should have children. I still believe it’s not for everyone. I still believe it’s unfair to say things like “You’ll feel differently when you have a kid.” And I still believe that we can all get along beautifully if we let ourselves.
I’m not here to argue. I’m not here to compare. I’m not here to judge what you do. I’m just here. Still. And I’m not pregnant anymore, but I care. Just as much I did before…