Something came up today that’s quite relevant to this blog and things happening in my favorite corners of blogland so if Samuel remains calm while I pump here I’ll post about it.
I ran into someone with whom I share a long history of mutual dislike. No details necessary. She looked at Samuel and asked how old he was. I said about 12 weeks. She said, “Oh he’s so big. I thought he’d be older. I thought you’d have had him a long time ago,” and she looked confused. I have no idea if she knew about Natan and I didn’t want to prolong the conversation just in case I was misunderstanding her. I saw no reason to enlighten her so I just smiled. She said, “what was he, almost 9 pounds?” Yup, I said, again no reason to be specific, really. She then told me how her baby born two years ago was 8 and half pounds and that was great except of course you have to have a c-section to birth a baby born that big so that was a disappointment. She looked at me so expectantly. What a perfect opportunity for me to compete. She’s the kind of person who makes you want to do that – one up her at any opportunity because she’s such a braggart.
But I felt sad for her. No need to tell her to just be grateful the baby was alive. No need to tell her, that well, actually, I pushed a 9 lb 9 oz baby out of my vagina. None of that. I just looked at her blankly while thinking quietly, “Is there just nothing we can’t feel bad about?”