I read a blog about a woman and her husband who decided that they needed to go ahead and have a child, even though they had originally planned on waiting longer. Acting on guidance from the Spirit, they moved happily forward. However, she hated being pregnant. It was uncomfortable and difficult. She had a lot of complications and suffered quite a bit. In the end, she expressed her gratitude and love for a healthy baby, but she sincerely acknowledged that pregnancy was one of the most difficult things she had ever gone through.
I thought it was sweet. Then I read the comments.
Women—nice, compassionate people—came out of the woodwork and posted hateful, catty things, criticizing her and trying to invalidate her. Why? Because so many of them want babies and can't have them, or have lost them, or have been pregnant many, many times more than she has and think she just needs to suck it up.
When did it ever become socially acceptable, much less expected behavior for mostly Latter-day Saint women, to engage in this type of one-upmanship?—
The danger to your health that you suffered in bringing your baby into the world doesn't matter because I had a miscarriage.
Your feelings about the discomfort of pregnancy don't matter. You should be grateful.
If only it were as easy for everyone to just decide to have a baby and magically be pregnant.
I want a baby and would suffer anything for one, therefore, it is unrighteous for you to struggle with this thing that I want.
Why is it so hard to live without comparisons? Why is it so hard sometimes not to think that if this one particular thing someone else has struggled with is the hardest thing they've ever had, their life must somehow be so much easier than our own, or that even if it is easier it somehow means that person isn't worthy of respect and compassion? This is not a competition over whose life is the hardest.
I used to be this way. I would listen to and read people talking about their marriages and their children and I would think it all sounded so much better compared to what I had to wake up to every morning. And I think sometimes I was envious. They had the one thing that I wanted, and that made it justifiable in my mind to think they needed to check their privilege.
Then I did get exactly what I wanted, and it is better than I ever dreamed it would be. There are stars in my eyes every time I think about my husband, every time I talk about him, every time I'm with him; and even though I won't meet my baby for a long time and right now it is only a little bigger than a peach, thinking about it makes me happy to tears. But it does sometimes take a lot of work to be married, and being pregnant is sometimes really difficult.
And now I am ashamed that I ever thought those kinds of thoughts, that I ever let myself be any kind of bitter or make any kind of judgment about someone else's circumstances and how they compared with mine.
I think about Leah and Rachel in the Bible. Who knows what their relationship was like before they were married to Jacob, and who knows what it would have been like if they hadn't been in the circumstances they were—when it looks like they spent years of their womanhood jealous of each other? One because her sister was the favorite wife, the other because her sister had many sons. What kind of example of jealousy did that set for their children, many of whom were so full of hate that they wanted to kill their own brother and only backed down when the alternative to sell him into slavery was presented?
None of us have to live in circumstances that are that brand of difficult (sharing a husband with one's sister, I mean ... ouch), but regardless of what it is we want that we see other people having, shouldn't we be able to love and support and empathize with our sisters and our brothers no matter what?
I happened upon a friend at the gym the other day, and we had a long conversation. She confirmed something that I had only suspected before—she has been married for ten years, and in all that time, she has not been able to have a child. I felt almost bad telling her that I'm pregnant and how happy and excited I am about it. But what she had to say about it is something I will probably never forget.
When she sees other couples having children, including most of her younger siblings, she is just glad that her struggle is not everyone's struggle. It makes it better for her to know that it's not widespread and there aren't that many people who have a problem with this. She loves kids and would love to be a mother, but in the meantime she is just happy that other women get to be mothers.
No comparisons. No jealousy. No "my life is harder than yours". No "you should be more grateful".
Wouldn't that solve about every problem in the world, if we could simply see everyone's experiences as being just as valid as our own?
There is a shocking lack of empathy in this world, both among those who follow Jesus Christ and those who don't. I was touched by another conversation I had with a dear friend, who said something to the effect that our mortal lives involve so many needs that will simply never be met by others because we are incapable of truly understanding what it is like to be someone else. We are desperate to be understood, but it's unrealistic to expect it. I don't mean to be depressing, but I think there is a lot of truth in saying that "Most men live lives of quiet desperation." Even my husband, who has the kindest heart and the strongest incentive to understand how I feel when I am sad, will still never completely understand.
The beautiful part is that we can be grateful to Jesus, who is capable of understanding it, and that is more than enough to heal us if we will be healed, though it may take time.
During that time, we have an obligation to at least try to do the same for others. The scriptures don't say comfort those you think have it harder than you, or judge those that mourn whether or not they actually deserve to be sad. They say comfort those who stand in need of comfort, mourn with those that mourn. This means even if you are mourning, even if you need comfort yourself, that is something you are expected to do if you follow Jesus.
I don't want to ever let that kind of poison into my mind and heart again, much less think it's ok to express it in words—in person, or on social media.
