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Is it weird that I think so much about parenting while not being a parent?

So much of the media out there about parenting by non-parents is about longing, and loss, and infertility. I SO respect that journey. But it’s not where I am… to be honest, my JOB (literally), is thinking about parenting. I spend all day every day talking to parents, thinking about parents, coaching parents, researching parents. I do this gladly, joyfully, and with a good measure of trepidation.

It strikes me this week that while I agree that I absolutely do not love, care for, worry about, and obsess over my client’s the same way that their parents do, I don’t know that they realize how much I DO think about them. (I don’t know if this would be a relief or a concern to them, haha.) Sharon and I started this thing (okay, I started it and forced Sharon to do it) where we say what “the thing of the day” was. It’s our moment of positivity and reality, our moment to reconnect with one another, our moment to share the joy of our day. Its hard to explain in a way, because it’s not the same as, “what was the best thing that happened in your day” or sharing the “highlight” of our days with one another.

It’s more like… what was the thing that made you feel real today? When did you remember who you are and why you’re doing what you’re doing?

It’s been wonderful <3. And it’s been us. I love having those moments with her and no one else.

Anyway, it reminds me again of this thing I wrestle with and see others wrestle with on daily basis. The idea emphasized over. and over. and over. again that “parenthood”, and especially “motherhood” is biological. It is the absolute worship and glorification of your conception story, your birth story, your breastfeeding story, your attachment story, and so on and so forth.

It is, in a way (I think), reactionary to years and years of female oppression… the need to assert that hey, being a woman, being a mom, is amazing and powerful and EXHAUSTING goddammit, and look at all the work we did to get here. Because it’s fucking unfair that moms in developing countries still have babies that succumb to baby bottle disease and people who WANT to have babies can’t always have babies and we have maternal and child deaths due to unnecessary medical intervention and did I mention that after doing this superhuman feat that is childbirth and attachment and never sleeping and raising an infant you aretify  ALSO still expected work ALL THE DAMN TIME and do ALL OF THE THINGS.

All of that is true, and it’s really lame. Yet I just can’t buy into this narrative I see everywhere, about the glorified “natural” parenthood experience, and the flipside, that those of us who don’t have it desperately want it. I listen to this podcast about parenthood, and there are specific episodes about being “child free”. What??!!  Why? Why does this have to be a thing??

All of this to say that I am surprised over and over again by the intensity of my love for the children in my life. And I am surprised over and over again by my lack of “biological desire” for pregnancy, birth, and idealized family. I am surprised by the “need” I feel to justify it, and by the bizarre expectation that I should be expressing loss or grief when I just don’t feel it. I am surprised by this “new wave” reactive social media movement by moms against perceived (or real? I don’t experience it but clearly I’m not in that community) oppression or criticism of biological motherhood and all it entails. I feel sad and tired and confused about being in a world where so many moms feel the need to make explicit posts/statements on social media about just doing what moms do.

I want to tell the world that I love who we are as a family. I love our life. When we become parents it will be perfect. Our journey is not a second choice. It is not a “miracle” or a loss. We do not idolize biological “parenthood”, nor do we miss it. We did not choose our journey to parenthood as a “second” option. We chose it in the same way ever other couple chooses parenthood.

When I really think of it, I have always felt this way. In some weird way, being gay merely “freed” me to feel the way I really feel.

Well, it’s been about a month since I finally got my less-than-satisfying diagnosis of eosinophillic esophagitis. Actually, I should rephrase that– it was INCREDIBLY satisfying at first, and then a major bummer once I realized there was no quick fix for it.

Eosinophillic Esophagitis (or EoE) is an autoimmune disease of the esophagus that causes inflammation, ridges, and scarring in the esophagus. I am here to tell you that it sucks. It really sucks. It causes a variety of unpleasant GI symptoms, the most common being feelings of food being stuck in your throat or being unable to swallow. For me, the symptoms were periodic episodes of severe nausea and vomiting that always happened in the morning, seemed to be triggered by nothing, and were pretty much incapacitating. It was like having really bad morning sickness but with no baby and no end in sight.

My GI doctor recommended a whole host of tests which I basically never followed through with because the initial, least-invasive ones found nothing, and I find GI problems to be depressingly elusive. Around November though, things seemed to get much worse– I had extremely severe abdominal pain that sent me to the ER, I couldn’t sleep anymore because I kept waking up in the night feeling like a brick was lodged in my throat, and I had basically constant heartburn/stomach pains. I was also starting to get really bummed out and feel like a failure, because I’m neurotic and that’s how I roll. I always find it helpful to sink into a self-blaming depression whenever something bad happens.

Everyone seemed convinced it was my gall bladder, but after about a billion tests turned up nothing, I finally agreed to do the endoscopy, which I thought would also turn up nothing. Even though I did get a diagnosis from this, clearly the best thing to come out of the endoscopy was the video that Wife took of me crying about Carson Wentz’ recent knee injury as I was coming out of anesthesia.

I was so convinced that the test wouldn’t find anything that I never bothered to listen to the message from the GI doc for 2 days, at which point I discovered by biopsy was positive for EoE. That was momentarily elating, as I noted, until I realized there’s no quick fix for this. Like Lupus or allergies or eczema or Chron’s disease or a million other things, EoE is basically the body being an idiot and deciding to attack itself due to an overreaction. In the case of EoE, it turns out that it’s often triggered by food allergies.

I was like, food allergies??? WHAT???!! I’ve never been allergic to any foods! Not to mention I guess the universe wasn’t listening when I said I would lose all will to live if I was ever allergic to gluten. So obviously the next step was getting an appointment with an allergist which takes about a million years. I finally found an allergist who could see me at the end of this month, which is a small miracle, because before that the earliest appointment was May. Until then, I’ve embarked on the recommended treatment for EoE which is the-worlds-worst-you-can’t-eat-anything diet.

This is called the 6-item elimination diet, in which the 6 items to be eliminated are joy, enjoyment of life, worry-free social activity, hope, sense of humor, and patience. …or: wheat, dairy, soy, eggs, nuts, and fish. Which if you’ve ever read food labels, you know is basically everything processed ever. And a lot of stuff that’s not processed. I confess that I haven’t really stuck to this religiously, because I refuse to cut out dairy. It seemed to difficult to do all at once, so I started with the first 5.

The results of this are as follows:

Extreme crankiness. Wife has noted that I’ve started becoming bizarrely defensive about completely nonsensical things. Example:

Wife: When I was laying in bed last night I heard an owl!

Me: I KNOW. I heard it; I was here TOO.

Hatred of Health Fanatics. I’ve become really unfairly judgy and resentful of anyone complaining about their New Year’s diet that they voluntarily embarked upon. I know it’s unfair and petty, but I can’t help it. YOU CHOSE THIS.

Whininess about all the things I can’t eat. at least 10 times a day I feel compelled to point out to someone how hard my life is because of this. For example, I’ve started glaring at Wife every time she eats an egg.

Self-pity. See above.

Improvement?? It’s only been a week and a half, so really too soon to tell, but I have to grudgingly admit I feel better. The nausea and vomiting only comes on periodically, so it could just be I’m in a symptom-free period. But I can honestly say I haven’t had any heartburn, abdominal pain, diarrhea, or other GI symptoms since I started the diet. And, Wife totally appreciates that I’m far less gassy. (Which I never perceived as a symptom, personally.) It’s hard to say whether I’ve truly eliminated an allergen, or if it’s the placebo effect (because dammit, this better be working), or if it’s just that we would all feel better if we didn’t eat processed shit all the time.

Well… I guess I’ll find out at my allergist appointment on the 22nd! Stay tuned!