Before You Comment on a Family, Look at the Children, Because That's Whose Really Impacted

This is a topic that I have personally wanted to discuss for a great length of time, but for some reason have failed to bring up the words. Lately though, like many busy moms, a random memory has been pushing its way into my mind and forcing me to ponder it at great depths. It’s a memory that I think I have been slightly suppressing. I almost wish I could say this was suppressed due to being embarrassed or maybe making a fool out of myself. Those of you with anxiety know those kinds of memories well. The ones we over think or dwell on.

But no. This memory is one of pain, frustration, confusion, and probably some anger. These emotions aren’t even on my part. They’re for my children. Specifically, our oldest daughter.

It is amazing to me how we as parents can feel so deeply regarding our children’s emotions. The uncontrollable bond that the majority of us have can almost be overwhelming. Especially when our kids are deeply hurt.

Even more amazing to me is how a few comments from a friend, relative, or stranger can have such a lasting impact for good or for bad, even for adults. So, imagine what it can do for a child.

Parents like me are used to the comments that come with having a large family, or even a family that might appear different to others. For mothers like myself, we get really used to the comments about our fertility, or pregnancy choices, our family size, and even our sex lives. Comments like “You know how that happens right?” or “Someone should get you fixed.” Or how about “we need to buy you a tv.”

And these are the nicer statements.

Parents like me learn really quick that a simple shopping trip with your family can start to feel like attending a circus sideshow, only you’re the freak. From invasive questions to slanderous comments, we have heard and seen it all.

We hear your remarks, and we see your sideways glances.

For the older woman in the aisle the other day, yes, I saw you counting my children and sizing them up.

But the worst part?

My children hear it too. My children see it too.

And that frustration, and humiliation, and that pain, yeah, they feel it too.

This has never been more apparent to me than last summer when a simple visit with relatives would cause my beautiful, intelligent, and fiery little redhead to question every single thing about her family and herself.

We had gone over to meet with a few of my husband’s great aunts. It had been years since either myself or my husband had seen them, and they had never been introduced to our little ones.

My well-meaning mother in law introduces all of them, beaming with pride at her two sets of twin grandchildren. I smile and sit down at the table to chat with the women and have the kiddos say hello, introduce themselves, maybe say a few words. The standard and polite thing to do and then I tell them they can go play in the opposite room.

Everything was going quite well as far as it seemed until the concept of family size was brought up.

And of course, not by me.

One aunt, of course, asked the most common question about us “being done.”

Another commented that she should “think so.”

And the comments kept coming from there. Everything to “should’ve stopped with the first set” to “how can you even support them?” was slung my way.

My mother in law, I believe sensing some discomfort, both mine and her own, attempted to ease the situation with a “Well only God knows, and it is up to him.” And a smile.

“Well God also helped man create birth control!” one retorted.

“I can’t take birth control.” I stumbled out, my nerves obviously getting the best of me. I began to feel so uneasy that my anxiety crept up and it was honestly the only thing my brain could think of.

“Then either you or Tim need to get clipped.” Another stated.

Looking back, I’m not sure why I felt the need to justify myself to these women. Maybe it is the respect for elders that has been so ingrained into me, or my love of all things older and my wish that it could be wiser. My hope that these women, decades older than myself would lend some advice or some concept that could change my life forever.

But it didn’t just change mine, it changed Arwen’s.

Now I don’t want you to just picture these women as some old crones with hooked noses and possibly a bubbling cauldron in the background. And I’m most certainly not defending their behavior, but we all have to realize that they all came from a different place.

A darker place and a large family where basic needs were probably lacking, and love was in short supply.

Their comments came from a different type of memory that I pray my family will never have.

Though flustered I moved forward and eventually the subject was changed. I discussed it quietly on the way home with my husband while the kids stared out the windows while listening to their favorite music.

It wasn’t until we had pulled into the driveway when a little voice spoke up and I realized what had happened.

“Momma, is there something wrong with our family?”

Even as I’m writing this my eyes are tearing up as the memory of those emotions rise to the surface. I didn’t even have to ask her where that question came from, I already knew. But out of shock, I blurted out.

“No! Of course not baby! Where would you even come up with such a thing.”

And that’s when she told me that she had been playing just outside the doorway in the hall when she heard it. Everything. Every detail, accusation, and statement now ingrained in her little five-year-old mind. Making her question every single thing about our family, about being a twin, and about being who she is and where she comes from.

She explained that she had heard all the nasty things that had been said and it made her wonder if there was something seriously wrong with her family and all she had ever known. This went to the point of wondering if there was something wrong with her.

After a long talk the situation was calmed, and I pray that her fears were put to rest, but I know her, like I know all my children, as most mothers do, and I know I’d be naïve to think it doesn’t still roll around in her mind just like it does mine.

The thing that I want everyone to take from this is that when you comment or insult the parents, even in an attempt at a humorous jibe or poke, you aren’t just annoying the parents. You aren’t just “driving us crazy” you’re hurting our little ones.

The worst part, I am guilty of this as well.

Now it isn’t that I make a habit of insulting another family or commenting on the number of kids or anything like that. But I feel that I could potentially hurt my own in my own actions.

You see, after over six years of pokes and prods from everything about the size of my baby bump to the size of our family I have learned, begrudgingly so, to not mention anything about the kids being twins, or that I have two sets of twins, or even that they all are siblings in public. This has gone to the extent of even telling some members of the family not to mention that I have two sets of twins. For those of you that may not come from a large family or have one of your own, this may sound absurd or even offensive. But as many of us who do live with this every single day, it can quickly become a common thing to do, because frankly, it just makes things easier.

It helps us avoid our anxiety of dealing with people and their mouths that speak before their brain has time to process. It lessens the likelihood of their comments or “jokes.”

But there is something else that it does. It showcases shame.

When I try to avoid or even hide the fact that I have two sets of twins or that we really do have a large family, I am showcasing a something that I don’t ever want to pass onto my children; shame.

Although it’s completely unintentional and never something I would purposely do, it is something that I have been doing, and have not come to the realization until just recently.

I would never feel shame or deny my son when he announces lines from horror movies or names of his favorite monsters.

I would never feel shame or deny my little red when she showcases that her mind is much too smart for her little mouth, even if her statements may get us into awkward situations.

I would never feel shame or deny my little tomboy who roars like a monster all the while in a tutu and tiara,

And I would never ever feel shame or deny my little blonde angel who comes complete with the occasionally tilted halo atop her well-hidden horns.

So why? Why in the absolute hell would I even think about feeling shame over my children simply for being born as twins or being born into a large family that I would never dare to change for the world?

This has been so profound for me and such a giant leap in my world of motherhood.

Now I probably won’t randomly add it into the conversation on a daily basis. Could you just imagine?

“And would you like fries or a salad with that?” the server asks.

“Salad,” I’d say, “oh and by the way, I have two sets of twins. And I ovulate multiple times a month with multiple eggs at a time.”

But, I am however going to be working on getting rid of my shame. Because there is absolutely no shame in bringing four beautiful, smart, hilarious, mischievous, and wildfire children for whom you love with every fiber of your soul, into the world.

Next time you want to make a comment or be snarky with any family think deeply. Is it worth it to frustrate the parents? Or worse…potentially hurt the children?

I can brush off most things, except the memory of the look in my daughter’s eyes when she thought that something was wrong with her and where she comes from. Always, always, build each other up, especially when children are involved.

And for those of you with a large family or diverse family or maybe even a blended family, there is no shame for you either.

And just because your family may be big or small, have lots of children or have none. Or maybe your family looks like a beautiful walking multi-cultural event. Or maybe your babies all have fur and walk on all fours.

Even if a dynamic is different than others, it doesn’t make it any less wondrous or special than any other.

This is something that I hope to instill in my children, and if I can inspire just one person to change their perspectives of what it means to be a family or what the “right” family looks like, well then, this article has accomplished its mission.