So a friend of mine recently had a baby. (Shocking, I know). She had difficulty conceiving this time around, and during that time I was the person she turned to.
I was happy to be there for her (obviously; she's my friend). But then she got ready to actually have the baby and suddenly I was surplus to requirements. I have exactly zero useful advice about what to pack for that particular journey. And then it all happened and the baby (lovely, of course) was born and I remembered how weird things always get after that.
There's this ... ritual that groups of mothers always go through when someone comes back to the group after giving birth. You know the one I mean, right? I mean the so, what was your labour and birth like? ritual. It's like the so, show us your ring! engagement ritual, but with way more mucous and placentas.
It's always a strange word salad of body parts and intimacies. It always sounds sort of like:
"Well I was only four centimetres, but then I remembered that when I was at four centimetres with Rose, Dave had gone to get coffee and ..." and then someone breaks in with "... I was being pushed down the corridor in a wheelchair, screaming and begging for an epidural..."and then suddenly everyone is talking and it's all "Honestly, I had no idea meconium was going to be that colour" "and he's yelling 'Push!' and I'm saying 'I am pushing!'" and then someone always says something like "Well when I had Charlie, of course, I thought I was never going to be able to poop again" and then everyone goes mmmmm-hmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmm because they have heard this story so often that it's practically like they were there when Charlie's shiny wet head started crowning. Suddenly I know all about all of their lady parts and they're sharing all this incredible detail but I never volunteer any information about my lady parts, ever. After all, they aren't doing anything interesting.
It's a strange and one-sided intimacy, and I've realised that I'm tired of not knowing what to say when other women swap these labor-and-birth war stories. More than that - I don't even know what to do with my face. Am I supposed to look interested? Curious? Sympathetic? Repulsed? I know what all the words mean, obviously, but I don't have any first hand experience. I don't have these war stories. I'm not ever going to have these stories.
I do get it. get it. I get that it's a big thing (fwoaaahh, I think a person just came out of me!) and I get that there is a lot to process. And I know that it's an important bonding experience for women, to swap The head was HOW big? And it came out of WHERE? stuff, but it makes me feel distinctly un-bonded and lonely. This is the weird side of adoption - the bits of the fallout that have nothing to do with how I relate to my children, and everything to do with how I relate to my friends.
After all, I don't think there's anything more isolating than a universal experience that you're not a part of, is there?
Four years into adoptive parenting, and sometimes these feelings still take me by surprise.
Sigh. I don't know what to say. Usually I exit the room for those convos. My philosophy on that is that some women procreate like hens, clucking loudly for all to hear...and some women are like farm cats who go off quietly and only inform people after the deed is done.
ReplyDeleteQuite the analogy!! I'm guessing you were a barn cat??? Can't quite see you as a hen....
DeleteSigh. I don't know what to say. Usually I exit the room for those convos. My philosophy on that is that some women procreate like hens, clucking loudly for all to hear...and some women are like farm cats who go off quietly and only inform people after the deed is done.
ReplyDeleteI just had this happen, and it can be so weird. It's amazing to me how *often* these conversations happen. I generally excuse myself for another glass of wine if that's at all possible. Along with the "I never knew how beautiful it is to be a woman until I gave birth" (insert awkward smile), it can all be pretty isolating. Hang in there.
ReplyDeletegood point on the wine, 'if at all possible'.... see, that's why we should start carrying hip flasks.
DeleteI'm sorry...I totally get this. It is very hard to know what to say. I generally just sit silently or say something trying to be funny even though I'm sad inside. And you're right...it has nothing to do with the way i feel about my kids but it has a lot to do with how I feel around other women.
ReplyDeleteI get so awkward I don't even try to be funny. Not even inappropriately funny. The few times I've tried it's just come out sounding bitter and that is NOT the look I'm going for.
DeleteIt's so hard when it's a big group of women comparing stories. With a close friend, I'll usually ask to hear the story, because it's different then - I'm just hearing something about her life. But when the comparing starts, I'm sitting there like, "Um, well, I had a reaction to my anti-malarial meds that left me doing anti-vomit breathing on an airplane for six hours straight while enduring shooting pains in my abdomen, does that count?" But I know it doesn't count, so I just kind of, well, I zone out, actually. I don't know what to do with my face either, when everybody gets going.
ReplyDeleteI think my most uncomfortable moment was when we were in the process of adopting Zinashi, and I went to the first meeting of a book club, and one of the women introduced herself by saying, "My name is Susie*, and I am growing a baby in my tummy!" It was the only thing she shared about herself, as if it were some prize, as if it made her special and awesome and better, and I wanted to smack her. I'm pretty sure that's not the right reaction, though, so I just thought uncharitable thoughts instead. I don't think that's the right thing to do either, so don't follow my lead.
*Susie is not her real name.
C'mon, Susie, how old are you? FIVE??????
DeleteYep, nothing like hanging with a club of which you are not a member. Thanks for saying it. Surrounded by pregnant friends at the moment, with babies starting to arrive. I'm happy for them, and it isn't that I don't want to hear about their experience.... but yeah. And thanks for mentioning the ring thing. As a single adoptive mom, sometimes I feel like I live in some parallel universe devoid of these universal life milestones.
ReplyDeleteYeah.. I think it's what findingmagnolia said above. It's not about not wanting to hear individual people's experiences, it's just the awkwardness of not being part of something when it feels universal. Except for me. Again.
DeleteTotally get it. Recently, I was chatting with three moms and the conversation suddenly went to childbirth / newborn war stories. Generally in these moments, I grin and bear it (letting my mind go elsewhere while attempting to nod or smile where appropriate); excuse myself; or express loudly, at the outset, "I don't know what you're talking about" (or words to that effect) to hopefully change things up. This time, I just felt STUCK. Trapped. Beyond uncomfortable. And, frankly, a little bit angry, because they all knew that, as someone who has one child - adopted when he was a year old, I couldn't possibly participate. One of the moms could, I think, see it all on my face. She piped in to revise the parameters of the conversation to expressly include me and my experience. Unstuck. Finally. I was SO grateful and pulled her aside later to tell her so.
ReplyDeleteThe only good thing about knowing how it feels to be excluded is that it makes me sensitive to others, at least most of the time. I try, for example, not to go on endlessly with non-parents about parenthood, because I have no idea what path they've been on, what, if any, unfulfilled dreams they've had, and so on.
K
Your last paragraph? THIS IS SO TRUE. And I have no idea how much stuff I still say and do that crosses that line.
DeleteI totally relate to this and like you I have no idea how to respond. "I know what all the words mean, obviously, but I don't have any first hand experience." YES! That! I got together with 3 of my best college girls recently and the whole weekend was magical except for about 20 minutes when the conversation was all about breast feeding. I just sat there feeling like less of a woman and less of a mom. Ugh. I feel ya.
ReplyDeleteYES on less of a woman. While we were preparing to adopt, I kept thinking 'it's like this child is going to have two fathers'. So. Weird.
DeleteI totally relate and yet I've had the kids come from my body... but by c-section :) And you know all of that was not "the best thing in the world for me" so I NEVER know what to do with my face. ... Gosh, I hate how women compare stories!
ReplyDeleteyou know I've never met you in person, but I'm guessing your face does not hide your thoughts easily... am I right?
DeleteI have been reading your blog for, oh, about two years. I've commented once or twice but not very often. And yet I send people to your blog all the time because you write posts that I love and that really make me think. (Especially the adoption ethics posts with the ethical wall. Best ones I've seen.) Yesterday I linked to this post on twitter and had a great conversation with some other adoptive moms about this topic and I thought "gee how rude of me to sing the praises of this blog but never even comment." So hi, I like your blog. I will try to do better at commenting. I really identified with this post. Thank you :)
ReplyDeleteThank. You. So. Much. :)
DeleteYour post really spoke to me. This just happened to me not too long ago, with my SIL and my cousin's wife. BBQ at my brother's house, we all got in the pool. My SIL and cousin's wife sat at the corner of the pool talking for HOURS about baby stuff, birth, breastfeeding, hormones, placenta, etc., cutting me completely out of the conversation or the ability to just bond with my female relatives, so I got stuck playing pool basketball with the men in the family. I never feel so unwomanly as I do around women who talk incessantly about their births/baby stories :( It's really hard.....
ReplyDeleteI remember once being stuck in a conversation with my husband's friends talking about their cars for exactly the same reason. SO. UNCOMFORTABLE.
DeleteI know all about drug testing in meconium. Does that count? Do you think I can share that instead??
ReplyDeleteI would love to be there when you do, that's for sure!!!
Deleteas always dear Claudia, beautifully said. I know exactly the same feelings you expressed. Next time it happens to me, I'll think I'm not alone because you and all us other adoptive moms have each other, and I might just make a wee funny face to myself, you know, in solidarity for those of us who have to hear it in that weird and awkward silence.
ReplyDeleteYES. Next time I'll be doing exactly the same. Thanks for this lovely idea, C!
DeleteHi old friend. My escape is to always excuse myself...drink, bathroom, food, emergency colonoscopy...doesn't matter. I don't even care if I look rude anymore. I just don't care to hear about it and I'm not going to sit through it. Can you tell I'm approaching 40 in a few months? ;)
ReplyDeleteHere's a nice flip side story that might make you feel a little better (or make me look like an asshole). ;) I met 3 friends for brunch this past Sunday. Two others are also adoptive mamas and the third is waiting for a match. A couple sat down next to us with an 8-month old and after exchanging cute baby niceties and teething solutions, the mother said something along the lines of "When I was pregnant..." Can't remember what, but complaint nonetheless. We turned back to our own conversation and started in on all the reasons we were glad we were never pregnant...weight gain, hemorrhoids, stretch marks, saggy boobs, etc. We laughed. A. LOT. For once it was nice to be in the majority group and even though we have all heard one another's adoption stories before, we all told them again. Even all our adoption stories are so different (and we all used the same lawyer). We all said we were grateful to have such unique and memorable stories, unlike all the others who dilated, crowned, and did whatever else I've blocked from my head.
Next time I'm stuck in placenta/epidural hell stories, I plan to remind myself of the beauty in our story that those who have given birth will never come close to knowing. My face will be in a far off place knowing just how lucky we are...and then I'll excuse myself for that colonoscopy. ;)