Baggage

This morning I was clicking my way across the world wide web when I came across the blog of a woman that I don’t even know. She had a baby about a month ago, and now, of course, she’s about as big as my pinky finger. Possibly even smaller.

Here are the facts:

1) Some women have blissful pregnancies, beautiful birth stories, and get to wear their normal clothes a few days later.
2) Some women don’t.
3) The women who don’t have not failed.

I know that in my head, but my heart still feels like a failure sometimes.

The internet is a dangerous place for me, and for women with similar outcomes. When we look in the mirror, the legacy of pregnancy is all we see. Our friends tell us we should be proud of our bodies for what they did. There’s usually some talk of “miracles” or “the best gift ever” or about motherhood being the “most important job” we’ll ever do.

They’re right, of course. In my experience, they’re also usually the ones on the other side – the ones who got through pregnancy unscathed – or they’re fresh out of college, unmarried, and/or still thinking of motherhood in “someday…maybe…” terms.

Listen, I know it sounds like I’m trying to beat those women down. I’m not. I wish I could have this conversation with you in person so that you could hear my tone of voice.

We all struggle with different things. One woman struggles with her post-pregnancy self. Another has a perfect post-pregnancy body and an estranged relationship with her father, or a crumbling marriage, or is facing foreclosure and trying to put on a happy face for her three kids at Christmas time. A third hates me a little right now, because I’m here complaining about cosmetic issues resulting from a condition she desperately wants to experience, but for whatever reason, hasn’t been able to. I don’t envy any of them. Everybody has their own stuff. Everybody’s heart has wounds. Everyone’s carrying their own baggage.

The troubling thing about the internet, at least for me, is that we so rarely see the baggage. We’re bombarded with beautiful images and status updates from people insinuating their lives are perfect, and while I love pretty pictures and happy thoughts, it’s not always reality. I understand wanting to focus on positive things, and I’m trying to be more positive myself (although I tend to see “more positive” as meaning “less real,” but I know that’s just me). The flip side of all this positivity is that I have to give myself regular pep talks to reassure myself of my self-worth.

Yes, I know it’s ridiculous. It’s part of my baggage.

Anyway, I guess I just wanted to put all this out there in case there’s another woman on the planet who sometimes feels like I do. (Who am I kidding? I’m pretty sure every woman on the planet feels like this at some point in her life.)

Quit beating yourself up. You’re not her. You’re never going to be her. You’ve got to let go of the idea that someday you will be her, or be able to live her life, or have her body. It’s just not going to happen. You need to focus on being you. You’re the only person who can be you. No one else can do it for you, and no one else will ever be as good at being you as you are.

Don’t give up. Don’t stop trying to better yourself just because your “better self” isn’t her. Don’t envy her, but don’t go looking for reasons to tear her down either. Recognize that even if you can’t see it, she’s got baggage, too. She might be really good at hiding it, but it’s there.

Extend grace. Exercise compassion. Offer encouragement.

In the midst of your own struggles, help carry someone else’s bags.

It just might make your own load a bit lighter.

Could you use some kind words today? I’d love to help you with that. What’s your story? How can I help?

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