Oh Relatives...aren't they fun?

I'd like to preface this story with some background on my mom, who I speak very little of usually in my blog, for a couple of reasons, one being that she has never really been the most supportive mother (funny how a few of us have that in common) or logical for that matter.

And so the story goes, when we told her (on Mother's day) about our first pregnancy she was unusually quiet..my experience tells me this usually means she is secretly pouting over something, and I knew what this pout would be about... being the center of attention. I thought how could this be the case with this situation too? How could she be jealous of a little unborn grandchild? But deep down I knew this was the case. I was fine with it though, I was used to her non-motherly ways and although it has saddened me throughout my life I feel I'm old enough and confident to get through it. And so later when I found out that I was going to miscarry, being that I didn't know who else to turn to (since my husband was at work and I didn't want to upset him) in a panicked moment I called my mother. While sobbing at home straight from my appointment, she offered the usual backwards thinking "it was meant to be" garbage and when all was said and done with the D&C (that is after telling me she had a D&C - for a completely different reason and that it was in a spa like environment and it won't be so bad - which by the way it friggen wasn't in a spa like environment) she told me specifically that she didn't want to know about any future pregnancies...until 16 weeks along.

And so that my friends is where my 16 week rule has come to be...at least with the parents...the rest of the world can figure it out on their own, I'm not telling a soul until I'm wobbling out the front door on the way to the labor room. And so that's where we left off...last June with her telling me that she didn't want to hear about anything until 16 weeks. Now that I think of it, all of you will know I'm pregnant well before my own mother. Is that sad? Well yes...is it more supportive...yes definitely...I cannot think of a more supportive environment than with the many who have been where I have and many more through far worse.

Well as we all know I've never actually made it to 16 weeks...and so I've stayed silent. As requested. I know she did it so that she wouldn't feel bad about hearing all the terrible details of another lost pregnancy...but I can't help but again think...just another situation where she's protecting herself before offering much needed support.

So didn't I find it ironic when last week I was having dinner with my mom and out of no where (well not quite no where...specifically in the middle of the crowded chinese restaurant) she asks "so you guys aren't having problems getting pregnant are you?" I then mentioned it was a long story and not one quite appropriate for the close quarters of this restaurant. Nor something you want to talk in detail about when eating. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. I suppose not quite the answer she was looking for.


After the restaurant thinned out enough, I told her the whole thing...about the RE, about the testing, about the surgery...about the septum. In her own uneducated state the story seemed to her anyways to point in the direction of her fault. She didn't like that I used the term "birth defect" and also the mention "caused when she was pregnant with me". I know this seems cruel...but I didn't entirely try to console her. And here's the reason why...



For some time now I've been thinking more and more about my mom and her pregnancy with me oh 36 years ago. She was about 10 years my junior and always was and still is the more naive and immature type. As much as I love her because she is my mother I've always looked down upon her for a few key reasons 1) She's the ultimate princess 2) She uses people solely to benefit her 3) She's lazy 4) she's weak and 5) she's egotistical. Of course I say this with as much respect as one could possibly have in this situation...but honestly...it's all true...even ask my dad who divorced her after 30 some years of marriage. It's sad, but true...and honestly I think she's very much okay with being all of the above because she doesn't see any fault in the above. So we all pretty much go along with it. And so here's where we get to my issues of late.

The more I've been pregnant, and the more I've lost pregnancies and the more I've struggled with TTC I've gotten more and more angry with how she naively and selfishly handled her pregnancies. You see, my mom is the first to say she never touched an aspirin while pregnant...although when asked if she stopped smoking she bursts out with "we didn't know any better!" Now I know that there's no direct link with anything that is going on with me now and the fact that she started chain smoking when she was a teenager and continues to this day, and did so through both my and my sibling's pregnancies.. but it angers me to no end that she wouldn't even give up such a terrible habit even at the sake of the safety of her children. What type of parent does that? Yes, I know that people did it all the time and supposedly "didn't know it was bad for you". But I seriously think they did know...how could they not? And as my mom says nonchalantly "well you turned up fine didn't you?" I think it's this nonchalant attitude that really irritates the hell out of me. After all I do ...giving up caffeine, drinking green tea (decaf of course), temping, buying expensive ovulator kits, sex on demand, fertility diet, thousands of dollars of testing, surgeries and who knows what else not to mention what all the other infertiles have had to go through out there...old black lung here continued puffing away and had two successful pregnancies...no questions asked. What the f*cking hell?

And so isn't it odd that my mother has become yet another one of those pregnant fertile women that I despise...you know the women who don't even try and end up drinking thru their first trimester and not even realize until they don't get AF for 4 months???!!!! How jacked up is that I tell you?... Despising my mother for having me successfully even though she didn't take care of herself while pregnant with me?! What kind of messed up infertile am I? And let me tell you it doesn't help that everyday she tells me...well I never had any problems so I don't know what happened to you. Nice...please...got any more daggers you want to stab in my back?


And so...that night, when I saw the worried expression on her face when I said birth defect (which yes I did use purposefully) I didn't stop...I could've, I should've, but I didn't...her worried questions only encouraged me...I went on...adding "in the womb...didn't complete...something happened..." and I saw it on her face...she was wondering...was it the smoking? I know it wasn't, and she should probably know...but it just really ticks me off that she never thought about it before...I couldn't help to stick it to her....for all of those thoughtless tactless comments. Maybe I'm a terrible daughter...but deep down I just feel I had to have her feel my same pain that I've been feeling so long. I just feel I'm such a different person now than I will ever be again. I think we can all agree to that. When I think of the conversation in my head again I just think I really wanted her to understand what I was going through. To see where I've been and how I don't want to hear...well it was meant to be, or you can try again or maybe it's because you have a stressful job or any other type of assvice that is issued on a daily basis to all of us stirrup queens.

I feel we deserve more than that, we deserve more than assvice and half hearted support from friends and family who hate you for making them uncomfortable. Who want to be there for the baby shower to show off their grandchild to be but don't want to be there for the down and dirty details of life.

Needless to say I've spoken to her many times since that night...and had her over for Easter even. Not another question has been asked since then. Well if anything it has brought peace and quiet from her. As they say, if you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen. And let me tell you, it can get damn hot in my kitchen at times.