I Should Have Walked Out

One of the very real side effects of infertility is dealing with people who have large numbers of children.  I am a life-long member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, more commonly known as the Mormon church.

Within many religious cultures, large families are quite normal and the LDS church is no exception.  My own brother has 5 children and my sister has 5 and intends to have several more.

Today during Sacrament meeting (this would be the main meeting within the 3 hours of church we attend each week) a mother was asked to talk about families.

You see, within the LDS church, we don't have paid clergy.  All positions are filled by the members of the church.  The sermons are given by members of the congregation, frequently one or two speakers are between the ages of 12-18 years and the remaining 2-3 speakers are adults.

Normally, those who speak spend hours preparing their talk (sermon) and will have a couple of weeks' notice as well as a topic to address.  It was clear that today's first adult speaker was talking about families, which in and of itself shouldn't have been a problem for me.

Today that wasn't the case.  She started off with mentioning the names and ages of her 5 children and the entire rest of the talk was about her role as a mother and how hard, yet rewarding, motherhood is.

I am a mother, so why did this bother me?  I've asked myself this over and over and I can't come up with a solid answer.  All I can think is that I have some pent up jealousy.  I would love to have 5 children and I know I am strong enough emotionally and financially to support them.

The other part I think is that this mother clearly couldn't think about family dynamics that were different from hers.  Sitting in that congregation were families that had very different backgrounds.  Divorce, death of a father then subsequent remarriage of the mother, half-siblings, step-siblings, and a childless couple.  There may have been families there dealing with abuse, death of a child, or other situations that didn't model this speaker's Ideal.

I sat there listening and then as the pain set in as she gushed about how wonderful motherhood to five was, I tried my hardest to tune out her words.  I was unsuccessful.  I should have stood up and left the chapel rather than continuing to subject myself to what was tantamount to emotional torture.  Instead, I sat there trying to beat level 350 on Candy Crush and then trying to hold my three year old without crying.

My pain was obvious enough to my little girl that she started to cry.  Great heaping sobs wracked her little body while the rest of the congregation sang a hymn about families.  It took all my effort to comfort her and try to hush her when all I wanted to do was join in.

I should have left, but didn't.

That's a mistake I won't be making again.  I'd rather cry in a deserted classroom or on the front steps than try to keep the tears at bay while I sit there to be polite and subject my child to my pain.