The Right to Complain

I've been hyper-sensitive lately to people's complaints about life's daily injustices. Especially those involving pregnancy or newborns. You see, when I hear (or read on Facebook, as the case may be) a new mom complain about yet another sleepless night, it makes me want to scream. Or when a pregnant woman complains about ill-fitting clothes or swollen ankles. My immediate reaction (in my head) is to ask, "Do you want to trade places?" Because I'd pretty much give anything right now for a sleepless night with a perfectly healthy newborn. And I'd gladly suffer the nausea and discomfort of a healthy pregnancy. So seriously, do you want to trade places?

At 33 years old, I finally can accept the fact that bitching and moaning is all relative. One person's pain is another's pleasure. I'm sure that my complaints about Daniel's disappearing naps are pissing someone off. That person must think I'm whiny and ungrateful. Who am I to complain about the phenomenally amazing child I've been blessed with? Should I, in turn, feel guilty that I complain about something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things?

I'm going to say no to the guilt, simply because I believe that I have the right to complain about whatever is affecting MY life. Just as the new mom has the right to complain about her perfectly healthy newborn keeping her up all night. It may piss me off to hear it, but I certainly can't expect everyone to be sensitive to my needs at all times. It's like the beautiful, thin girl who complains all the time about being fat. You may want to punch her in the face, but that doesn't mean her feelings are invalid.

If I am eventually blessed with another baby, either through IVF or adoption, I'm sure there will come a time when I will be at my wits end and will complain about one of the many inconveniences or hardships of parenthood. Maybe I'll be so overwhelmed with gratitude that I'll let every little annoyance slip off my shoulders. But if you know me at all, that probably is an unrealistic expectation. The more likely scenario is that I'll whine about being exhausted, moan and groan about whatever insane phase the child is going through, and generally act like any normal human being would in similar circumstances. If I happen to piss you off someday with my ungrateful complaining, I apologize. But after having to endure almost two years of hearing the constant bitching and moaning from others about how hard it is to be a new mom, I think I've earned a little selfishness. And if, in a couple years time, you are going through a rough patch in your life and you hear me complaining about potty training or naps or anything else that I should be so blessed to deal with, feel free to slap me in the face and ask, "Do you want to trade places?"