My BFF and I got our nails done earlier this week. As part of #KLaHM (Keep Lauren Happy Month — less than 3 weeks left!), I treated myself to a mani-pedi. I’ve been avoiding nail polish for months now, but compromised by having my fingernails buffed to a high shine, and made sure my toenail polish was DBP-, toluene-, and formaldehyde-free.
Like me, my BFF is very tall, so when we’re out together we get double the amount of comments we normally do. The Vietnamese nail ladies shrieked with laughter when they learned that I am taller than my husband. (At almost 6’1″, people expect me to be married to a man who’s 6’8″, not 5’8″.) Then the conversation made me a little sad.
Nail Lady: You have chewren?
Me: No…
NL: Noh yeh, rai?
Me: No, not yet.
NL: Yoh chewren they be tall, like you! Even yoh husband short, yoh chewren be tall.
Greek Lady Next to Me: Et olweys cams from da madder.
NL: Yeh, oll impohtan thing, cam from da mam.
I got very sad at this and stared at my feet, whose nails were being painted a fabulous shade of dark electric pink.
Even if it’s not true that most traits are inherited from the mother, it was a painful reminder of the things that I will never have. I’ll never be told my kid looks like me. If I am, it will be a coincidence. I won’t ever see the combination of DH and me in our offspring, should we be so lucky to have them.
Which makes me think: what am I worrying about looks for when there’s a chance DEIVF might not even work?!
I quashed the anxiety by trying to take charge of the situation. How might I gently remind people that not everyone gets to just have sex and take home a baby? How might I suggest this without revealing anything of my situation?
Me: Well, maybe we’ll adopt. There are so many ways to build a family.
GL: Adopshan, it’s a grade opshun.
My mindfulness helps me to respond, not react, to a situation, and I was satisfied with how I responded to the conversation. My response may not have been the best, or even the most truthful, but it served as an educational tool, a way to divert the conversation, and a way for me to honour my feelings.
I think everything will be okay, as long as it works.
Please let it work for all of us in Team DEIVF. It’s hard enough to hear about others’ pregnancy announcements without having DEIVF cycle buddies succeeding when you haven’t.
I think all of this will make me a better parent, as long as it works. As long as it works. As long as it works.
Nellie started stims today; DH will inject me in the arse for the second time in an hour; the retrieval will happen in about 10 days’ time. My children — or half of their potential — are beginning to ripen in another woman’s ovaries. Thinking about this gets me choked up, and I dream of one day being able to look back on this day with a great sense of peace.
Hi Lauren, I think it is so great that you responded in this way to a painful situation. I also struggle with feeling silenced (really, self-imposed silence) in certain conversations, and I’ve been trying to be more up front about our losses and how difficult they have been. It’s tough when you don’t want to reveal details about yourself but still want to be heard. Best wishes for the next few weeks!
Ugh, it’s often the little offhand comments and incidents (which could never have been foreseen) that are the most hurtful. I am so, so, impressed with you for for how you responded to that conversation. And for having the presence of mind to do so. Keep taking care of yourself!
I, too, am impressed by your ability to be mindful, and think before you speak. I’m pretty sure I would have ended the conversation with a snarky remark that, undoubtedly would have resulted in a messy pedicure.
I’m praying like mad that this works for you. Sending love and hugs! And keep us posted!
I’m so glad to hear from you in these two last posts! I’ve been thinking about you so much! Reading this one, I’m really impressed by your mindfulness. It’s a wonderful example of choosing a more thoughtful response. I need these examples, because I am always working on accessing the mindful response before the defensive, and it’s hard. I like that your response wasn’t “perfect,” because it worked. And that’s all I’m going for–not perfect mindfulness, functional mindfulness.
Your post also makes me think of this weird irony: Your kids are going to look a lot more like you than my kids look like me. I mean sure, I can point to mine and pick out specific features that I have. But most of the conversations you have about features are with family, acquaintances, and strangers you meet in the grocery store line or at the park or walking on the beach. In fact, I would say that 75% of the who-does-your-kid-look-like conversationsare with the acquaintances and strangers. I remember being at a block party in the Bronx. It was just me with K-Pants in a carrier. This woman comes up to me and says, “Honey, I don’t know who your baby’s daddy is, but he [K-Pants] sure don’t look like you!” I get this kind of stuff a lot. And people never say the boys look like me (my family and friends, sure, but they KNOW us).
I don’t know what my point is here. Because the comments are still going to sting more for you because of your rocky road. But I’m going to be interested to find out the amount of comments you get. People say weird shit all the time–as you WELL know–and it will continue, but my guess is that it won’t be about appearances. You can even use DEIVF as a retort to the really weird people: “You’re right: I am so tall that it was hard to imagine what our baby would look like. That’s why we decided to turn to science.” ;0)
I love you and I hope your pink toenails are bright enough to keep Keep-Lauren-Happy-Month going!!!