When the elderly woman at PT today told me that she noticed last time we were there how lovely I looked because I wear loose maternity tops instead of tight ones, I want to tell her that I wear what fits and that I've sweated completely through every layer I have on because this is the biggest I've ever been in my life and I hate that about myself. But instead I say thank you, because I know she means it as a compliment, and that I steal people's joy when I don't let them give a compliment.
When people pass by my line of children all playing electronics during Natalee's therapy sessions and I feel them judging I want to defend myself and say, "they only get those about once a week. They've already sat through an OB appointment today, too, before this block of time." But I don't say anything because I know I shouldn't have to defend myself, even if I want to.
I've been working all week on scheduling Mia's 1 year post op appointment with her pediatric urologist. Actually this began in around March, when I tried to get an appointment for Natalee and Mia's appointment (in the same facility) scheduled for the same day. No dice. Fine. We like driving.
Last time I talked to the scheduler in May-June, he scheduled us for Aug 2nd, full well knowing we couldn't come that day, but assuring me that we'd get a cancellation work in call over the next 2 months. That never happened. So now I'm working with the nightmare of rescheduling at 35 weeks pregnant combined with moving.
The scheduler I talked to today was really nice. I explained to her the situation and why we were down for Aug 2nd when we knew we couldn't come. I wanted to tell her, "I know you're thinking he never told us to expect a work in, but he did - and I believed him." She asked about the end of August - yes, I can send her with her dad or maybe grandparents, but I'll be 40 weeks pregnant. I wanted to say, "I've been trying to get this appointment handled for the last 3 months and can't get anyone to move," but I don't say that. She asks about mid September. Well, technically that's 14 months post op and we do have some questions for the doctor, and we're also moving, but if that's what we need to do then go ahead and put it then. I know she sighs inwardly. I want to say, "I don't know why my life is so messy right now and I'm sure you're envisioning the type of people you think we are, but really we're just regular people with a lot of transitions right now." But I don't say that. I just say I'm sorry.
She asks me what days absolutely will not work and I tell her next Tuesday and Wednesday and August 2nd. She makes a note and clears her throat. I know she's thinking I'm awfully demanding. I want to say, "one child who was recently diagnosed with CP has a clinic appt one of those days and another who has had significant concerns come up has a big neurology test the other day." I want to tell her I don't understand why all these things are piling up either and I want to pour out my mom worries and heart to her, but I don't. Because it doesn't make any difference. She's just the scheduler and I'm just another person.
When I walk around with my planner like it's breathing life into me and I'm scheduling appointments and trying to balance our life and people look at me like I'm absolutely insane, I want to tell them that I don't know how I got here either. But I don't say anything. I put on my bravest face and I smile.
When my daughter, who is filterless because of how her brain works, narrates every thought about how she feels about me, I want to tell her that her words are crushing to me but I try not to. I try to just let them wash over me and not soak in. Sometimes that works better than others.
I want to tell my kids I'm not as brave or as put together as it appears from the outside, but I don't, because children deserve a strong mother.
I've typed all this and realize it really has no point, except perhaps to caution you to remember, when you run into a mom whose life appears messy that perhaps they don't know how they got there either. Be kind and if you can't be kind, at the least be still.
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