It has been really hard for me to relate to other mothers/parents/people
lately. Heck, it’s hard for me to relate to anyone these days. I find myself
comparing the events in their lives to my kidney-less baby.
When I hear someone talk about how terrible it is that their
kids have hand foot and mouth disease or their dog crapped on their bed again
or their husband is being an asshat (man I love that word), I want to scream “YOU
THINK YOUR LIFE SUCKS, MY BABY IS GOING TO DIE. PUT THAT IN YOUR PITY PIPE AND
SMOKE IT”. I would gladly take on all that you think is crappy in exchange for
a working kidney. Just one, we only need one. Bring it on sister.
But I know that is not the answer and it would be a
particularly nasty and insensitive thing for me to say.
Being in a situation like this really slaps you in the face
with a dose of perspective. What I used to think was bad is nothing compared to
this. Not even close.
Nevertheless, life isn’t about comparing. Comparing will
make you bat shit crazy, be it my soon to be dead baby to your live one, or your parenting choices or even the way you comb your hair. Nothing will ever seem
equal or fair. And it’s not supposed to. My path is not the same as your path,
nor would I ever want it to be.
Which brings me to the point of this post.
This is one of my mother’s favorite nuggets of wisdom.
“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world
knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” Longfellow
If you saw Robert, Lenora and I walking down the
street you might think what a nice, all American, 1.5 children family we are.
You would have no idea the personal hell we are living. The same can be said
about each and every one of you. Your bought of hand foot and mouth disease
or asshat husband only scratches the surface. Who knows what secret sorrows lie
just below, or what crap cards life has dealt you.
So I have to keep reminding myself every time I
want to compare and scream and throw one holy mother of a temper tantrum that
is not necessary. This is my path and my (not so) secret sorrow. And each of
you has your own.
Trying to compare will only drive me crazy, bat shit crazy.