The Worst Part

I've been connecting with ladies who have lost children lately.  It's kind've one of those things where once you get THERE, you find everyone else who's also THERE.  And quite frankly, it's a beautiful thing to talk about Aaron, cry, listen, cry some more, and not only feel like I am helping and supporting other women, but they are helping and supporting me.  Empathy is an amazing thing.

On the flip side of that, I now dread the question "are you going to have more children?"  More particularly, I dread that question coming from people who don't know me.  Aside from the whole -- none of your business thing -- how do I even answer that?  "Well see, we actually did have more children, but . . . "

It happened yesterday at the dentist.  3 kids in the office for cleanings at one time, especially when it's William's first time, equals a lot of chaos.  So when the hygenist says "you're a busy momma" I just smile and nod.  But then I guess because my kids are all stacked together and William looks like he's the age where there should be another one, the question comes.  

And I hate it.

Over Christmas I actually had a woman not only ask me but proceed to tell me that I should have 4 children because 4 is an awesome number and it would be even better if I had another boy because then I would have 2 boys and 2 girls and that would be just perfect, don't you think?

Yeah it would be.

Spend the next 2 hours trying not to cry while my children play because we just got there and I can't leave now.

So I'm trying to be understanding, really.  Although obviously this stuff bothers me because, hey, I'm STILL thinking about the Christmas incident.  But I'm trying to use it to learn to keep my own big mouth shut when I should.  And I sometimes remind myself of things that I have said to people, particularly other women or mothers, that really -- what was I thinking?

Maybe it's not a very positive post today but it's been on my mind -- the things we say to others with or without meaning to.

Ok so a slightly humorous story to lift things up a little bit.  Our children have terrible manners -- table manners in particular.  And I'm working on them.  Last night was going great until Abby got upset and so how does Chopper dispel the tension?  With fart noises.  Within seconds Abby was happy again.  And I was grateful we had no visitors for dinner.  Also, that means I get to blame him now.