Claudine M. Jalajas; Essays

Parenting After Adversity

A friend of mine forwarded an article for me to read that talked about how people who face adversity, seem to be happier later. The Hidden Side of Happiness: Adversity Can Be Good by Kathleen McGowan. The article was about people who faced serious adversity like hurricanes, plane crashes, being attacked in a dark alley-you get the idea. We've all heard these people on the news, "but I'm a better person for it-I appreciate every day now." I wonder if it's possible to have that feeling of constant gratitude linger? At first, yes, you will wake up each day and think, "thank god I'm alive." But how long until you accept that the "phew" feeling is over and life is normal now?

Living in New York I have first-hand knowledge of what it's like when a mass number of people are affected by tragedy. Everyone had lost, some greater than others. Driving around I saw flags everywhere; hanging from storefronts, cars, backs of trucks, minivans and every home. The schools and post office flags at half-staff. Constant reminders; constant sadness. The news featured stories of people being generous, kind, and helping each other out for no other reason than being grateful to be alive. But, this is New York. I remember the first time another driver, a woman with kids in the car, flipped me off for stopping at the yellow light. It was about 3 weeks after September 11. I watched her in my rearview mirror, enraged that I had stopped instead of blowing through the light so she could get to wherever she had to go.

Now, I sound very pious here but I'm not. I gestured her right back, relieved that we were being normal again. I was tired of the guilt, tired of feeling sad all the time. I didn't want that constant reminder of what had happened. If it was normal-I wouldn't have to remember the hurt. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and be like we used to be-happy and a tiny bit selfish.

Infertility is also an adversity to overcome (not as dire as the article was talking about-but the feeling can be similar to some). When you struggle with infertility you tell yourself that you will never take this child for granted. You will treasure every moment. Before infertility I had a list of things I would "never do" with my kids. I wouldn't let them:

sleep in my bed
waste food
make a mess in my living room
use television as a babysitter
have too many toys (or anything electronic-they'd all be wooden and educational)

As it turns out, pretty much everything I ever said I wouldn't do; I've done. Is it because of infertility or am I just a soft touch for my kids? A friend saw teeth marks etched into the mahogany wood detail along the back of my sofa. She asked if I had gotten upset when my son had used the mahogany for a teether. I said, "I would rather he used a teething ring, but I'd rather have him and the teeth marks on my sofa than no him."

I've talked with other Moms who overcame infertility and often I'm not surprised they too don't care so much about messes, their careers, and whether their children's clothes match perfectly each day. You're so happy to have them that a lot of things just don't matter.

My oldest son, Luc, is eight years old now. I haven't forgotten infertility but I'll be honest, the sting is gone. I don't like to think about it much; it's something I'd like to forget. I just want to move on to the next phase of my life-being a mother.

Eight o'clock on a Friday night. Luc has just returned from the store. He has bought a sports trivia card game with his allowance money. Since home, he's asked me every three minutes, "can we play now?" I'm exhausted and trying to wrap up the post dinner mess and get the VERY whiney and sick younger brother of his to bed. I snap at Luc, "can't you see that I'm the middle of a lot of things right now? Go take your shower!" By 9:30pm the kids are in bed sleeping so I finally get to the living room to pick up some of the debris that has collected there during the day. Crawling around on my hands and knees I scoop up the marbles and Legos from under the coffee table. I place a small pile on the table and that's when I see it. A pencil placed beside a score sheet. Three game cards are set out for three players, a deck of trivia cards in the center. I start to panic-did I tell him we'd play? My eyes start to sting when I realize I screwed up and I missed it.

It's not like I'll be singing along to Cats in the Cradle in a few years. We need to eat, have clean clothes, sleep, and work. But, I think it's probably true that infertility changed the way I parent. I remind myself how much I wanted this, I let things like housework slip a little, and I feel grateful.

The next morning I asked Luc if we could play the game while I made breakfast. I know very little sports trivia. It was fun to watch him giggle when I answered Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan, and Wayne Gretzky to every golf, basketball and hockey question.