Killjoy

Unless I'm with my fellow DBC friends, the topic of having kids and being pregnant often leads to awkward questions as people try to include to me, but then hesitate. Why do they hesitate? It's painfully obvious that they don't really want to know more about my not-so-joyful birth experiences. Which is hard as I want to still be included when chatting about c-sections versus labor, and breastfeeding versus bottle feeding. But, our story is so different from the vast majority of the people we know. And it tends to lead to being excluded for being a killjoy in the conversation.
Recently, some girlfriends and I got together to celebrate a friend moving away soon, excited to see her once more before she moves halfway across the country and we see her less often. She has a tiny baby, and so much of the conversation involved new parenting ideas, birth, and experiences. At one point, one was asking about each of our birth experiences, c-section versus natural (and how natural), and she hesitated for a moment before asking me. And when she asked, it was only if I'd had a c-section. Singular. I'm making some assumptions, but possibly hoping to not bring up our first birth story. I answered boldly that I'd had two c-sections. And, as often happens, silence ensued.
Later in the evening, discussion changed to how often or quickly each of us were having our kids. How close together did we want to have them, why that could be advantageous, and how it all was happening in reality for each of us. I said that if we could have more kids, we had wanted to have them close together, boom boom boom. And kind of timidly added that we did want more. Again, brief silence, some awkward moments before another question to redirect was asked and conversation flowed elsewhere.
I'm not sure what I want exactly, as I even have trouble at times dealing with talking about these life decisions. But what makes it so hard for us is that they weren't a decision we got to make it. It was made for us and we're left wondering why all the time. But ignoring and changing the topic, as often happens, most definitely doesn't help matters. It's disheartening, and leads me to withdraw over the course of the conversation in order to not have to subject everyone around me to the other side of raising a family. The side that isn't perfect and involves heartache and loss. But, I shouldn't have to hide my feelings, especially amongst close friends.
It makes me appreciate my friends who have opened themselves so completely to my grief journey. Those that don't shy away from talking about both my boys, both of my birth experiences, and my pain that is coupled with my joy. It means the world to me to be able to have those few moments of true expression instead of hiding what's in my heart. And I find myself gravitating towards those friends more often as experiences like the ones above continue to happen with other groups of friends.
It's okay to ask me if this aspect of child-rearing totally sucks. The part that took away one child and left us with, yes, just one. Just one child that you can see, not the two that are forever in my heart. It doesn't have to derail conversation completely, and talk of loss doesn't have to last for the rest of the evening. That's what therapy is for (thankfully). But, please just allow me my few minutes of grief, to share it with those I love in exchange for support and empathy.
I hope that I am able to provide for others in this way, too, who are dealing with grief. That I can practice what I preach and show availability in my heart to allow others to grieve as they need to even when I find it difficult to hear it. Because it is hard to not focus on only joy. It's a constant challenge, to continually open yourself up to others' pain. But it's possible, and it's so needed by those grieving.
A constant goal to be better for those around me.
Because I got a lotta love to give.