My life is worse then yours… I mean better… I mean…

So yesterday while I was killing time wandering around the internet, I found a couple pages where women were comparing whether being kicked in the balls hurt more then child birth. I have nothing against the blog post I read, it made me laugh hysterically. But it got me to thinking why does everyone have this insane need to believe they went through worse pain then anyone else? When it comes to the whole kicked in the balls vs child birth debate, I am firmly on team childbirth. Obviously pushing an 8 lb bowling ball out of there hurts more then being kicked in the balls right? But then my husband asked ‘Have you ever been kicked in the balls?’ hmm. Good point. I guess I can’t compare them can I? (Of course, I am still right, I really think that being kicked somewhere sensitive hurts less then pushing out a baby… )

But anyways, that’s not the point I was trying to make with this post. What was on my mind after reading all this was why do we all want to have experienced the worst pain? When I was pregnant with Alex, I didn’t hear much as far as labor stories went. But I was one of the first of my friends to take the journey into motherhood. After I had Alex… all that changed. It became a contest. Who had the longest labor. Least drugs, most drugs. Went the furthest past their due dates, had early labors. Biggest babies. Tore. Needed stitches. And the list goes on. And on and on and on. 

Shortly after I had Alex I sat down with a friend, who for the sake of this post, and not broadcasting her name all over the internet will be called Jane. So Jane and I sat down and we talked about our labors. Hers was fast. I mean fast! I think it was something like 4 hours… she didn’t build up to the strong contractions, she plunged right into them head first! Mine had been just shy of 24 hours. Slow. Drawn out. Exhausting! Do I think hers was easier then mine? No. Harder? No again. Just different. Both of our bodies had to do the same work to get our babies out. (Our babies were even about the same size, and her and I aren’t built much differently either) Would I trade labors with her? Again, no. And she agrees that she wouldn’t want to trade either. Mine was long, yes. But even though the pain lasted a lot longer then it did in her case, I think I much prefer getting in slowly from the shallow end and adjusting as much as I can before the real fun starts. 

Now labor isn’t the only time women seem to need to ‘have it the worst’ I see this all the time when women start talking about their husbands. Why in the world do women want it to appear that their husbands do the least, are the laziest, worst in bed etc etc etc? Personally, I much prefer to brag my husband up, suck it ladies, my husband rocks. Don’t get me wrong… he isn’t by any means perfect. He drives me absolutely nutty sometimes. But what do I gain by focusing on those things and making him seem bad to others? I don’t know… maybe I am going about this whole marriage thing wrong?  

The only thing women seem unsure about whether they want to brag up or complain about is their kids. On one hand you get mothers who have the BEST of the best kids. The ones who are perfect. Always listen, sleep through the night, super easy to potty train etc. But then you also have the ones who go on about how their kid is a worse sleeper then yours, teethed worse etc. Honestly.. if my kid doesn’t sleep and your kid doesn’t sleep… let’s become night time friends and entertain one another instead of trying to outdo one another on who got less sleep! 

Women aren’t the only ones who do this. Men do it to. In all ways. Who scored the most (whether that be with the ladies, or in a sporting game) who is the best at video games… you get the idea. 

There is nothing wrong with some healthy complaining. And I also don’t see anything wrong with exchanging stories. But the embellishing needs to stop. Stick to the facts. Who cares if someone has it worse or better then you. Be grateful for what you have and the journey you took to get there… after all, it’s not going to be listed on your tombstone that your life was better then these people and worse then those!

Love, hugs and more to come later!



Today I am feeling especially pregnant. Not that I ever really feel not pregnant, I mean with the big belly, baby bouncing, and all the other wonderful pregnancy things a woman gets to experience. But today I feel really pregnant. I’m only 21 weeks.

Only… Already… I guess it depends on how you look at it. Since April of 2010 I have been pregnant a grand total of 101 weeks. There are only 145 weeks between April 1, 2010 and today, January 14, 2013. That makes 21 weeks seem like nothing. Makes the end seem so far away. Yet at the same time, I’m already more then half way through my third and final pregnancy. 

Anyway, back to feeling especially pregnant. Anyone who has ever been pregnant knows that feeling of helplessness you get when you have to strain to tie your shoes… or when you sit down on the floor and struggle to stand back up. That’s me today. Feeling a little more pregnant then normal. And it’s only going to get worse. And I can’t wait. Weird eh?

I love being pregnant. I love feeling the baby move inside me. The little kicks and jabs and sudden needs to pee when they hit your bladder the right way. It’s amazing. Hearing the heartbeat for the very first time. Or the 100th. It’s all amazing. Seeing the little one moving around on the ultrasound screen, finding out if you are going to be buying pink or blue. Or not finding out and holding onto the suspense a little longer. I had to find out. I hate not knowing things! And I love to be able to buy a bunch of the color I am going to need. Decorate the baby’s room (not that there is anything wrong with a gender neutral room, I went that route with my first born) And naming the baby! And using that name. It makes me feel like the baby is already a part of our family. (Not that I am saying the baby isn’t a part of your family if you don’t know the gender, to me it just made a big difference!) Where was I… Oh right.. The amazingness of pregnancy. 

It’s not all amazing. There are the sides of it that some people pretend don’t exist and others dwell on looking for sympathy. The aches, pains, stretch marks, constipation, bloating, weight gain, morning sickness. Ah the list goes on! But it can’t be that bad can it? Most of us have more then one baby. Some of us (like me) even go as far to have 3 in less then 2.5 years. I know. What was I thinking right?

I’ll tell you what I was thinking… I was thinking my brothers and I were all pretty close in age, and we got along great. And fought like cats and dogs. They were my best friends. And my worst enemies. We stick up for one another, we help one another out. We love one another. I don’t remember a time when I was an only child, even though I was the oldest. As far as I am concerned, they were always around (well except my youngest 2 brothers, I remember Mom being pregnant with them and them being babies) I wanted that for my babies too. To always have a play mate, a friend, an enemy, a confidant, a partner in crime… someone to blame for the things they do. But mostly, someone to grow up with and make memories with. 

Ah the joys of motherhood and pregnancy. The stress, the joys, the tears, the smiles, the sleepless nights. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I love it. Even on days like today when the boys are picking on one another and are cranky. After all, that’s what naps are for, right?


Love, hugs and more to come later!