Everybody Hurts

In my last post, I wrote about a book I recently read called “Sensitivity Girl.” I expressed feeling inadequate and sad about not having a strong network of people I can lean on and trust in times of need, like the author had. Even though I overall liked the book, there were other difficult themes I encountered. The author wrote about how she surprisingly became pregnant with triplets moments after stopping birth control. Not only did she not have any issues with infertility but she was a fertile overachiever. She became pregnant. With triplets. Without medical intervention. Without even trying hard. And it was such a surprise! It was hard to read that blessedly short section of the book. As I read, I reminded myself her amazing fertility aside, she certainly had many other challenges, including a complicated pregnancy with many weeks of bedrest. Still, when looking at the inequality of infertility, it’s just another reminder the world is not fair. It’s not that I would ever want to be pregnant with triplets, but I do feel a twinge of jealousy at how ridiculously easy it was for her to conceive not one, but three babies simultaneously. Did I mention she was in her mid-30’s? You know, when a woman’s fertility is supposed to be tipping into the abyss of infertility to the sound of an erratic, beating internal clock. It’s hard to not read that and have to swallow the lump of jealousy, to push away the green monster of envy clawing into my mind. She spent little time contemplating the miraculous conception, focusing more on the complicated pregnancy and marital issues that began cropping up, but this is part of the book that has stuck with me.

 

In addition to the miraculous, semi-unplanned triplet pregnancy, she wrote about how “easy” her kids were as they were growing up. She literally said her kids were easy, meaning they didn’t have a lot of behavioral issues even having lost their father at such young ages. She worried about not “messing up” with them doubly because she was left as their sole surviving parent following the death of her husband. She worked hard to have a calm, loving environment for them. Her kids seemed to respond and grow positively. This is all terrific and it is wonderful to read how well-adjusted them seemed to be, but…. God it was hard to read! As soon as I read the sentence of how “easy” her kids were, I put the book down. I just needed to breathe a few minutes. Again, it isn’t that everything was easy for her and it certainly didn’t mean there weren’t moments her kids gave her a run for her money. But, the overall idea that they were easy stabbed me in the heart because I could never describe my kids as easy. Not even tiny infant Love Bug was easy. Loving them is easy. Raising them is hard, so very, very hard. I would think having three at once would be hard and the kids would struggle with getting enough attention from their mom. But, I view the world thought a lens of a different color. My children have faced trauma at very young ages. This trauma has led to some maladaptive behaviors; things they needed to create to help them survive but make for difficulties when they don’t need to be in fight or flight mode. These behaviors spill over into our everyday lives and are complicated by diagnosis like ADHD, Oppositional Defiance, and Autism Spectrum Disorder. I love my children, I wouldn’t trade them for the world, but they give me a run for the money daily. Their struggle has become mine and sometimes, after long days of trying behaviors, I feel like the best to hope for is to just hang on.

 

The greater take-away I have after reading this book is that everyone goes through tough times, but they are all as individual as every person. What is excruciatingly hard for me might not be the hard thing for someone else but their hard thing might be something I couldn’t even imagine enduring. Both the author and I have experienced loss, just in different ways. There is no point in trying to compare the differences in our losses because they are as unique to us as our fingerprints. It is better to focus on how we each found the strength to soldier through our difficulties because that is truly the beauty of our stories.