Open wounds

I've started about 5 different sentences to begin this blog post. None are sufficient.

I'm tired. Mad. Frustrated. I could really (and have wanted to) punch some people right in the face. Would I ever? Have I ever? No. Would it feel good? Probably not. But you don't know until you try.

I'm so serious. Mostly I'm tired. But serious.

I've had one too many negative interactions with people in a very short period of time. Do you know what they all revolve around? Sam. I hate that. I hate that there is still so much hurt to be had, there is so much anger to be felt. Who WANTS the memory of their firstborn son surrounded by so much negative?

I talked to a woman today who I don't know. I didn't ask her any questions, but she decided she needed to ask some of me. She tried to diagnose me with a gluten allergy. Thank you ma'am, but I don't have one. Then further into the conversation asked me about my birth experience. I was being as vague as possible but when I told her I'd had an epidural, she scoffed at me and said, "Well psh...you missed all the GOOD stuff."

Yes lady, I sure did. I sure missed all the good and wonderful things there is to say about natural birth. You know what I also missed? Looking into my son's eyes, seeing him smile, watching him walk, seeing him go to kindergarten, graduate high  school, college, get married. YOU'RE DARN RIGHT I MISSED THE GOOD STUFF.

Of course, I didn't say any of that. And she's none the wiser. Be careful what you say, and how you say it. You might just be speaking to a momma who is still trying to mother a dead child. You might be speaking to a momma who hasn't been able to have any children of her own. And you might be speaking to a momma who hasn't had any negative experiences whatsoever but still has made decisions that aren't the same as yours. Whatever the case, it's none of your business.

I haven't been this irritated with others when it comes to Sam's death in a very long time. And for that I am grateful. I try to let things roll off my shoulders. But I tell you what, sometimes it just surges up. And I get mad. And it takes me just a *little* bit longer to let it go.

It's easy to have all the answers when you've never lived an experience. It's easy to tell me that had I just used this essential oil, taken this vitamin, eaten this supplement, etc etc. that things would be perfect and we'd be healthy and happy forever and ever. I find it funny when others make an attempt to educate me on genetics when that is what my degree is in. I know I certainly am not an expert...because I don't have all the answers. But it's the people who DO have all the answers who worry me way more than those who don't.

It doesn't bother me if you raise your child totally and completely differently than the way I do mine. It doesn't bother me if you handle pregnancy and childbirth completely and totally differently than the way I do mine.

What bothers me is when you tell me that I am wrong because I am doing it differently.

Please stop. Please, just stop. My life is not about YOU. Don't turn my life into your platform, whether it's for me or against me. Just don't.

And I use "you" in the generic sense of the term.

So next time you look at someone and tell them something as stupid as, "You missed out on the good stuff," or, "I just don't agree with the decisions you've made,"  while feeling better about the decisions you've made for yourself, I suggest you be quiet.

You may just be opening wounds you can't see.