Inadequate

My first board meeting (or 26 weeks pregnant with #3)

I tend to feel inadequate, inarticulate and almost illiterate when found in the business situations with older men who supposedly have these fancy degrees from prestigious universities and have a proven track record of being successful as founders of the companies, or tripling them in size, or making the right executive decisions or just being able to speak damn smart. I look at them trying to figure out what in the world they can think of me. I walked into the board meeting today. 5 silver haired men sitting around the table, who barely acknowledged me (except for the founder who told me Come on in) kept their conversation going as if I wasn't there. I poured myself a coffee and joined the table and stared at them, trying to look at least little bit adequate with my 6 month pregnant belly and belly button sticking out. They shifted the conversation shortly to financials and budgets and decisions in 2015 but still I felt like my words came out funky when I spoke, I could not find the right terminology. Was I just sounding like a 5-year old? I had this sudden urge to start reading more about how to scale and leverage and all that stuff. So I can speak like them and I can fit in. I was also thinking why can't I just do my spreadsheets and hide behind them and all would be fine. Or that all I hear at home is screaming kids saying over and over Stop it to each other and Poopy mama forever when they get mad at me. Where in the world am I supposed to learn and practice the right terminology to be able to relate to them? To measure up to them? I know this feeling is completely subjective, I know my value is not measured by the sophistication of the words I have available when feeling anxious. Yet, I feel so inadequate tonight.

Life with my boys

I stopped writing my infertility blog when I was 14 weeks 1 day pregnant. I kept reading all the blogs I added after that. I still do. My heart starts beating faster when I am about to find out if somebody got pregnant, and if they do, oh my, I am so happy. The struggles we went through to get pregnant left me with a deep sense of how special it is to be pregnant. What a miracle it is. My second pregnancy was easy, for most part. And even though I complained about some of my physical discomforts, I still look at my 2 boys and feel extremely blessed. That we were given a second baby. I longed for him so strongly, so desperately. The despair took over my life and now that it is gone, I understand that I used it to disable myself from feeling happy. And then when it was gone, suddenly I felt this big hole, like there was no more fighting for something meaningful. I was pregnant, I didn't have to fight anymore, but somehow I missed it.

Life has changed. I look at pregnant ladies with sentiment, not envy. They have life growing inside of them. I did too. Twice. I proudly carry my baby and run after my preschooler. I frequently think of my older son, how to help him with his struggles. I coo with my baby. I love his smile. I feel like there's no better place to be than where I am right now. Things can be difficult, with 2 of them. I am tired. Exhausted at the end of the day. Sometimes I lack patience. More times I don't. Sometimes I am not a perfect mother. But more times I know I give them everything they need. So they can grow into strong, reasonable, independent, respectful adults. I am happy we were able to give M a sibling. I can see now that he is becoming more independent in some ways. He knows he must wait sometimes. Or that I am not available all the time. I had to provide him with more trust in his judgement. Because I don't have my eyes on him all the time now. It's impossible. But that gives him space to make his own decisions. And most of the time I am pleasantly surprised that he respects rules and his decisions are reasonable. He is also very sensitive. And dependent. He expresses himself through crying. He feels heard like that. And that resonates so much with me. We are alike. Which also makes it difficult for me. It brings up a lot of stuff with my mom. How she wanted me to be stronger, not to cry over everything. And I wanted desperately her love so I wanted to change. And control myself. So I tend to do what my mom used to do. Try to stop his behavior. Tell him it's inadequate to the situation. That he has no reason to cry. And then, I know I am not helping. I know I don't want him to feel helpless about how he feels and the intensity of his reactions. So I often tell him that I understand that he is sad, that it is in fact hard. I want to provide healthy environment for him to be able to access his own feelings. To look at them, reflect. He has a good heart. A good soul. And a 3-year old mind.

I am happy. My boys make me happy.