"Shoulding" On Myself
“Don’t ‘should’ on yourself.”
One of my favorite phrases.. partly because I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old, and partly because it helps me reframe whatever arbitrary requirements I’ve set up for myself. Overall, I’m a reasonably confident person. I know my flaws and my strengths, and at the end of the day, I forgive myself for most of my shortcomings while simultaneously trying to do better. (However, my husband would - rightfully - argue that perhaps I could extend just a tidge less grace in the “leaving my crap in random spots all over the house” department.) And yet – there are a few isolated corners of my life where it appears I have a PhD in Shoulding on Myself... And Shoulding a Little on My Husband Too.
Recently, the bulk of my shoulding has been in the area of if/how to grow our family. Even during our early infertility battle, I had always envisioned a sibling set. I’m not sure entirely why I felt so bold as to imagine two kids when we couldn’t seem to scrape together a sperm/egg combo for one, but regardless, when I imagined our future family, I saw two little vague shadows; nonexistent and yet I could somehow feel their presence. When my son was born, one of those shadows was suddenly illuminated. He was real, he was color, he was light, he was sound. (Lord help me, was he sound.) And even in the throws of early postpartum, though it was faint in the distance, the other shadow remained.
However, our route shifted quickly when I acquired a potentially dangerous autoimmune condition called ITP. Since it was likely triggered by pregnancy/postpartum and I am incredibly lucky to currently be in remission, my husband and I came to the conclusion - without really any conversation - that no more babies would be grown. It made no sense to risk my health; the most obvious path forward was to enjoy our son and not rock my medical boat.
Sometimes, however, decisions that are obvious aren’t simple; smooth knives can still leave a jagged cut. The decision to not have another child was, in essence, made for us. When we were going through infertility treatments, there was an endless parade of decisions, constant choices with minimal information, like standing at the top of a waterslide not knowing which pool each tube would lead you to. And then, post-ITP diagnosis – no more decisions. The waterslide was closed.
And yet – that little shadow remains.
And this is where the shoulding really gets intense.
I should just be happy with my son. I should just move forward and focus on a family of 3. I shouldn’t worry so much about him being an only child. I should just appreciate the benefits of an “only”. I should consider the possibility that my son might do better as an only child. I should enjoy the little moments. I should let go.
And, just for good measure, there’s another set of shoulds too.
I should be able to handle any potential challenges and complications with adoption. I shouldn’t be so worried about all the what-ifs. I should just move forward one step at a time. I shouldn’t focus so much on potential negatives. I should I should I shouldn’t I should.
It seems we’ve found ourselves, yet again, at the top of another waterslide: Do we pursue additional ways to grow our family, or settle in to the identity as a family of 3? It’s similar in many ways. You choose a slide without much information. You jump in this tube that alternates between going too fast and too slow. You have no idea what pool the slide will take you to. Your control of where you go is limited, but you still can choose how you adapt to the pool you’re in. It’s exhausting and scary and potentially exciting and my brain spends way too much time bull-shoulding about all the possible what-ifs.
I should go get some Advil.
