The Ones We Love The Most

Sometimes, the hardest part of this journey can be the rude awakenings...the ones I never saw coming, the ones that sock me in the solar plexus, relieving my lungs of all oxygen.  As I gasp desperately for air, I'd love to believe that life is peachy, and that people can be bothered to take two seconds to put themselves in my shoes as I try to do with everyone else.  It's common courtesy; once I started seeing what other parents had gone through before me, I began to understand that everyone's problems - whether or not I think they affect me - are real.  I began to understand that the world did not, in fact, revolve around me.  I vowed to become more empathetic by giving others - complete strangers, mind you - the benefit of the doubt. 

Apparently, not everyone has experienced this same epiphany.  Some don't bother to engage their brains before spouting off at the mouth.  Or the keyboard.  Same difference.

And when they don't...when it's all about them and what horrible people The Hubbs and I are because we put our child first, it hurts.  It's asinine.  It's insensitive as hell.  I know I have no control over what others may say or do.  It's beyond selfish on their parts.  I can see that.

But, damn it, it hurts.

What's that old saying?  Something like, "we hurt the ones we love the most..."  Well, if this is love, baby, you can keep it.