Thursday, August 23, 2012

A letter to Moms

Dear Mothers

I understand that this letter might sound like I'm wagging my finger at y'all. I do not want to make anyone feel bad for how they choose to act. I just want to offer something to think about.

I am on the other side. The side of the childless. I will always be on this side, so this is my life long be on THIS side. Please try and understand what that means.

It means that the only pregnant belly I will ever touch is someone elses. I know that oogs some of y'all out. But please, try and understand. The only baby kick I will ever feel is on the outside...THIS side.

It means that the only time I will get to squeeze a soft baby leg or arm is when it is someone elses baby. I know that oogs some of y'all out. But, PLEASE...try and understand. The only time I will ever get to hold a baby in my arms and smell their sweet baby head is when I am holding someone else's baby.

I know we might not know each other well. We may be complete strangers that are shopping at Target but please try and understand. I know you don't know me or my story but your baby may be the only baby I come across for months.

I am not trying to be oogy.

I am not trying to overstep.

I am not trying to make you uncomfortable.

I'm just trying to grasp a fleeting moment of innocence. One I will never have for myself. Try not to be so stingy and let me have it. Please.


  1. I have a friend who was in a waiting room one day for her own doctor with her (at that time) eight week old twins and three year old son.

    An older woman sat down near them, and started looking at the kids, talking to Ethan, and my friend told me she did not know what came over her, but she reached for the twin who was awake and said "do you want to hold him?"

    She said the woman literally started tearing up and said yes, and thank you. She had not ever been able to have her own children, and although she and her husband fostered and had nieces and nephews, she still loved holding little ones.

    I try to remember that with Sarah. If you ever come to Houston, you are welcome to all the snuggling you want. I was amazed when it finally happened for me.

  2. I understand this must be a really difficult thing to experience. Chin up, buttercup.

  3. <3 <3 <3 <3

    You can come visit me and do some squeezing and hugging on my baby all you want. She'd love you for it :)

  4. I can relate, somehow. When I was in my late 20s, my clock was clanging fiercely, as if time was running short and I would never have the opportunity. And that turned out to be the case. This week, I got an e-mail letting me know that a free subscription to PARENTS magazine was on the way. I sent a very scathing e-mail to the publisher to let them know to cancel immediately, and that the choice of magazine was very hurtful. I've constructed my adult life in such a way that 99% of the time, my childlessness isn't even an issue.... and then...... It's no longer a matter of hearing "Oh so and so had her first in her early 40s and it was okay." For me, there is no remedy. So I too must live those experiences through others. On most days, I'm kind of thankful, for reasons I won't go into here. But it's those days when I get very wistful that I hope some new mom or pregnant friend would understand and allow me to even experience a little of what they may be taking for granted...... <3 you, Jinny!

  5. I wouldn't mind if you squeezed my baby's chub in Target. :) I will say that I do mind when it's nasty people- like people who wipe their noses and then touch my baby's face or like the man with the bandaged hand with blood seeping through.... That happened a couple weeks ago. Anyway, I really enjoy when strangers make over my baby. Just not those strangers.

    My mom and I talked a lot about not being able to have babies- I thought I couldn't and she wasn't ever able to. (I'm adopted) She always really enjoyed others' babies and I think it's nice to share. I was really happy to be able to share my baby's kicks and ultrasounds and everything with her. Very special.