School-wtf was I thinking?
This is something I find I am constantly asking myself. I have come to the general conclusion, that loss of grey matter as a result of having children has rendered me unable to say no to situations that most people would consider crazy. Or perhaps the lack of grey matter has convinced the rest of my brain that I am invincible, and childbearing has bestowed me with innate super powers....
At either rate, whatever the cause, I have managed to convince myself that undergoing a second M.A., while breastfeeding, volunteering and working are a good idea. Ha! As I think about the way my days are carried out I wonder where the sane train was when I missed the stop. Let's take the first day for instance.
There is the usual waking, nursing, lunch making, showering and breakfast making-before the hour long commute into the city. Followed by the dreaded walk up the mountain, one three hour class followed immediately by a dash up another 2 floors to the next 3 hour class. If I'm fast enough I have just enough time to go to the washroom or pump breast milk for P. Since often because of lack of time it comes down to a decision between the two, the pumping generally wins. Good thing I have developed camel like tendencies out of necessity.
Usually the last class of the day is followed by a dash down the hill to the train in hopes to get a seat and not have to stand the hour home. After which I hop off and go home to nurse P, do homework and cook dinner for the night. After which comes bath time, cluster feeding bedtime and my own homework. Lunch making for the girls lunches the next day and then I hop into bed to do it all over again. Yup, this is a typical day. Not a harry hectic day, just a regular plain old day. Back to day one of second semester....
5 minutes into day one of my second semester of the Grad school walk up the hill and the button pops off my jacket. No, not the un-noticable, your jacket still closes button - the middle button over the chest that busts the jacket wide open. No biggy though, its only 5 million degrees below zero with the windshield factor....Did I mention I trek up a steep mountain to get to my classes in a building near the top of that mountain? And that its an ice rink? With no buildings to shelter the wind?
If this scenario wasn't indication enough of the way the day/semester would be turning out my dream should've been fair warning. Running through a playground riddled with cobra snakes barefoot past a lion in order to reach ones children is no easy feat. And that was all before 5am.
During the three or four hours I managed to sleep in a row. You see, P doesn't sleep through the night. In fact, he has never slept through the night a day in his life.
This is most likely due to the fact that my parenting style does not dictate that my child has to be on a specific schedule. Although it would be nice if P chose to sleep- oh I don't know- say 6 hours in a row. The reality of it is, he doesn't. I am not a fan of crying it out methods as I don't feel that they foster a relationship of trust between mom and baby. Some people advocate for this method, and everyone has their own way of parenting - its just not my cup of tea. G and I (much like my co-blogger Svea and her husband), subscribe to the attachment parenting model, which is a parenting philosophy that aims to foster long term secure bonding between children and their parent bodies. It is a more instinctive and intuitive parenting approach that encourages parents to be sensitive and responsive to babies cues. Within this model there are what the Sears (Martha and Bill) call the 7 baby B's (bonding, breastfeeding,
baby wearing, bedding close to baby, belief in the language value of your baby's cry, beware of baby trainers and balance). You can learn and read more about this approach on the Sears' website or by reading their book: The Attachment Parenting Book.
Although I am back to school, I still maintain attachment parenting concepts, adjusting to our particular situation. For example, we still co-sleep, wear P and I am still breastfeeding him, all variables that play a role in how I schedule my work and classes. These variables also dictate the amount of sleep I get in one night - which is not a lot. If I get 3 good hours to rub together I have won the lottery.
The beauty about parenthood is, you adjust. Yes! Parents have survived sleep depravation for centuries. While parenthood may not give you super powers, although I like to think it does come with a set of cool attributes not limited to eyes in the back of your head, extreme balancing skills and the ability to stop rowdy children with a single look- it will allow you to surprise even yourself. It is amazing how the body is able to cope with more stress and less sleep, digging into extra reservoirs of strength from the interstices of the soul. It also forces you to be organized.
Which is why I'm able to go to school and do other things while surviving on little sleep and possibly too much decaf. That and I am eternally optimistic that my efforts will pay off both in the form of a stable well paying job, and the example that will influence my children to carry on with their own educations until they achieve their dreams.
Looking back 12 years ago to when I was just 16 with a brand new baby and no job, high school or prospects, I never would have known where I would end up today. But I can tell you what I was thinking. I made a pact, with myself and my child that I would not be a statistic or be labelled. I would break through barriers and become more for J and any future children I would have. I was thinking I would do it for them. 12 years and 3 children later, I can say I have overcome adversity.
On days when I ask myself what was I thinking? I remind myself that I wouldn't trade the lack of sleep, ridiculously busy, hectic schedule, or toddler meltdowns that make up a regular day in my house for anything, because my kids are the strength that has fuelled me. As stated by Cornelia, mother of Gracchi, depicted in the 1785 painting by classical painter Angelica Kauffman - my children are my treasures.
Angelica Kauffman. Cornelia Pointing to her Children as Her Treasures, 1785
Parenting
Wife: Well, there goes our parent of the year award.....
Husband: Meh, we got next year in the bag.
11 Steps to Feeling Like Motherhood is a Normal Part of Life
There's this hilarious little note being passed around the ol' fb, called The Eleven Step Programme for Those Thinking of Having Kids. It includes such gems as,
The (unknown) author reminds us that this is all meant in fun, completely tongue in cheek, of course having kids is worth it, etc. She reminds us that we need to have a sense of humour, and it's true. I laughed when I read it. It's funny.
But it's also a glimpse into a part of our society, which, really, I just hate. I hate that when you're pregnant all anyone call tell you is how TOUGH it is to be a mama and just how much giving birth is going to HURT (grapefruit through the nostril -- ever heard that? Every day for nine months?). Yes, being a mama can be challenging. Yes, it's going to completely turn your life upside down, show you just what you (and your marriage/partnership/fuck buddy) is made of, age you at least five years, and move your life into a milk-soaked realm from which it will never, ever return.
But here's the rub: you won't want it to.
OK, maybe sometimes you'll wish for a few extra nights of non-stopwatch-timed snuggling with your partner, and there are projects and fitness goals you fear you might never get back to, but birth and motherhood are some of the peak experiences of life (notice how I didn't say 'pregnancy'?). And all around the world people don't dread (and alternately ossify with unfair expectations) motherhood like we do in the industrialized West. In some places, motherhood is a normal part of life. Even if you're an unwed teenage girl or -- worse! -- haven't finished your master's degree or saved your first 100K. It's a thing to celebrate.
So here's my
Lesson 5: Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems.
1. Buy an octopus and a small bag made out of loose mesh.
2. Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out.
Time allowed for this - all morning.and
Lesson 7: Go to the local grocery store. Take with you the closest thing you can find to a pre-school child. (A full-grown goat is an excellent choice). If you intend to have more than one child, then definitely take more than one goat. Buy your week's groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goat eats or destroys. Until you can easily accomplish this, do not even contemplate having children.
The (unknown) author reminds us that this is all meant in fun, completely tongue in cheek, of course having kids is worth it, etc. She reminds us that we need to have a sense of humour, and it's true. I laughed when I read it. It's funny.
But it's also a glimpse into a part of our society, which, really, I just hate. I hate that when you're pregnant all anyone call tell you is how TOUGH it is to be a mama and just how much giving birth is going to HURT (grapefruit through the nostril -- ever heard that? Every day for nine months?). Yes, being a mama can be challenging. Yes, it's going to completely turn your life upside down, show you just what you (and your marriage/partnership/fuck buddy) is made of, age you at least five years, and move your life into a milk-soaked realm from which it will never, ever return.
But here's the rub: you won't want it to.
OK, maybe sometimes you'll wish for a few extra nights of non-stopwatch-timed snuggling with your partner, and there are projects and fitness goals you fear you might never get back to, but birth and motherhood are some of the peak experiences of life (notice how I didn't say 'pregnancy'?). And all around the world people don't dread (and alternately ossify with unfair expectations) motherhood like we do in the industrialized West. In some places, motherhood is a normal part of life. Even if you're an unwed teenage girl or -- worse! -- haven't finished your master's degree or saved your first 100K. It's a thing to celebrate.
So here's my
11 Step Programme for Those Thinking They Probably Shouldn't Have Had Unprotected Sex Because Now They're Going to Have Kids And it's Going to Suck.
Lesson 1
1. Go to the grocery store.
2. Stock up on all the foods you loved as a kid.
3. Go home.
4. Throw them all away because you're too health-conscious to indulge.
5. Go to bed skinny (but hungry).
For the last time, ever.
Lesson 2
Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who already are parents and ask them about their...
1. Child's first smile.
2. Child's first word.
3. Child's first two-word phrase.
4. Child's first steps.
5. Discuss the last night you had on the town, how you and your partner got drunk, he spilled a drink on your new dress which seemed like a big deal and so you had a big embarrassing fight. Listen as the crickets chirp.
Enjoy it because it will be the first time of many that you get to bond with other people over parenthood.
Lesson 3
A really good way to discover how the nights might feel...
1. Spend a week away from your dog/cat/twitter. Then come home to its warmest welcome. Play.
2. At 10PM, put the animal/computer gently down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep.
3. Get up at 12 and massage your nipples for an hour.
4. As you can't get back to sleep, get up at 2AM and look up at the beautiful full moon/snow falling/other night-time scene you haven't seen for years.
5. Go to bed at 2:45AM.
6. Sleep snuggled up with your pet/partner/computer in a big doggy-pile until 6 AM.
7. Get up. Make breakfast. Get ready for work and go to work (which is suddenly meaningful).
Repeat steps 1-9 each night. Take advantage of the fact that everyone expects you to look exhausted because you're doing the most important job there is. Sleep when the computer sleeps.
Lesson 4
Can you embrace the new person your children will make you? To find out...
1. Get drunk and sing "The Ants Go Marching" in your best Donald Duck voice. Repeat.
2. Stay home with your partner and enjoy watching each other perform 'Itsy Bitsy Spider' and 'Patty Cake'. Sexy.
3. Make peanut-butter cookies. With fork marks.
4. Practice leaving the house without your hair/makeup done, wearing yoga pants and flat, practical shoes. You are now ready to take over the world.
5. Effortlessly decline any social invitation because you can't get a babysitter.
6. Get rid of all the ugly knick-knacks you've received over the years. You wouldn't want the baby to choke.
Lesson 5
Dressing small children is fun.
1. Buy two of everything you love. One in your size, one in adorable.
2. Happily accept the endless hand-me-down or gifted onesies, booties, and hats that come through your door on a daily basis.
3. Sing songs about them, especially in other languages. "PANT-a-lon-es, pant-a-lon-es, pant-a-lon-es, pant-a-LON-es!"
Time allowed for this - all morning.
Lesson 6
Forget the BMW stroller and buy a baby-carrier.
1. Wear it around the house because you're "trying it out".
Leave it on when you go out.
2. Notice all the pure joy your (invisible) baby elicits (before people notice it's not there invisible).
3. Smile at all the other new parents you see. Watch how they smile back.
4. Get onto the bus and watch people fall over themselves to offer you their seat.
Lesson 7
Go to the local grocery store. Take with you the closest thing you can find to a pre-school child. (A friend's pre-school child is an excellent choice). If you intend to have more than one child, then definitely take more than one child. Buy your week's groceries while also letting them thrill-ride the outside of the grocery cart down the canned goods aisle. Poke all the mushy cheeses. Impress them by picking an apple from the bottom of the display pyramid. Introduce them to Ben and Jerry's. Dance in the mist of the produce water-sprayer. Hand them your credit card and let them "pay" for the groceries. If you haven't done all of this for at least ten years, you are definitely ready to have children.
Lesson 8
1. Hollow out a melon.
2. Make a small hole in the side.
3. Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side.
4. Stick a bunch of toothpicks all over it.
5. Stick various fruit chunks onto the toothpicks.
6. Edible ch-ch-ch-chia!
You are now ready to entertain a 12- month-old baby.
Lesson 9
Make a list of all your favourite childhood TV shows. Find them on YouTube and watch one per day, while lounging on the floor and eating chocolate chip cookies. Take a nap. Climb a tree. You don't know where to find the nearest climbable tree? My point exactly.
Lesson 10
Watch Baby Ethan Laughing repeatedly. Play this video everywhere you are (every doctor's office, every lineup) for the next four years. You are now ready to do life with a toddler.
Lesson 11
Start talking to an adult of your choice. Have someone else continually on your mind while also picturing Baby Ethan Laughing from Lesson 10 above. You are now ready to commit to having your "heart go walking forever outside your body."
Toybox Dissections: What's Inside Sophie the Giraffe?
Ever wonder what's inside that roll up piano mat? Or how the squeaky toy got its squeak? In this new semi-weekly feature I slice, cut and rip my way through Sweet Baby James' toybox. I just can't help cutting his toys apart to see how they tick/bleep/vocalize. Documenting it for you is a bonus. Yes, I've thought about what he'll say when he grows up to find out I dissected the gifts on which he first slobbered. No, I don't think it'll be pretty. So sue me. Curiosity killed the cat but this week it also killed... Sophie the Giraffe.
Name: Sophie the Giraffe
List Price: $26 ($17 on Amazon, though it might be counterfeit)
Date of Dissection: December 21st 2011
Cause of Death: Lack of continued infant interest, maternal curiosity
Instrument: Scissors
I received our Sophie as a gift at our baby shower from dear friends Sam and Charlotte. It was a perfect gift because I never would have spent $26 on a classic baby toy myself, no matter how cute and hip. They also gave us a copy of Olivia.
Sophie spent the first few months of her life in her cute little box. I brought her out when the baby started teething. Sweet Baby James was immediately taken with her squeaky nature, long floppy neck, and particularly delicious hooves. From about November 2011, however, Sophie the Giraffe took a backseat in the toybox, left on her anatomically incorrect backside in favour of empty yogourt containers and measuring cups.
It was clear that Sophie's days were numbered. She was sad and lonely. She was also a very, very dirty girl. My attempts to clean her up -- including the time I brought her into the bath with us, which downgraded her bright little squeak to a forlorn squawk -- were futile. When I was hanging with other mama-baby dyads I could tell which Sophie was "our" Sophie just by virtue of her greying, grimy rubber. I figured I had two options: I could throw her in the trash like a normal mama or I could slice her open like I secretly always wanted.
What's inside Sophie the Giraffe?
What new/hacked uses does this toy have?
Sweet Baby James is in two minds about Sophie's suddendeath mitotic reproduction. In two pieces, she offers a bit more flop than before... But her hooves seem no less delectable.
List Price: $26 ($17 on Amazon, though it might be counterfeit)
Date of Dissection: December 21st 2011
Cause of Death: Lack of continued infant interest, maternal curiosity
Instrument: Scissors
Biographical Information: Sophie the Giraffe is the toy that unites all (bourgeois) babies. She first came out in 1961 -- she turned 50 last year, though she doesn't look it -- and she's had a certain retro resurgence as of late. She's made of natural rubber and 'food paint' in a small town in France. There are 1,687 customer reviews on Amazon. Good for babies of all ages.
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| Eight months pregnant, receiving Sophie the Giraffe at my interpretive baby shower. |
Sophie spent the first few months of her life in her cute little box. I brought her out when the baby started teething. Sweet Baby James was immediately taken with her squeaky nature, long floppy neck, and particularly delicious hooves. From about November 2011, however, Sophie the Giraffe took a backseat in the toybox, left on her anatomically incorrect backside in favour of empty yogourt containers and measuring cups.
It was clear that Sophie's days were numbered. She was sad and lonely. She was also a very, very dirty girl. My attempts to clean her up -- including the time I brought her into the bath with us, which downgraded her bright little squeak to a forlorn squawk -- were futile. When I was hanging with other mama-baby dyads I could tell which Sophie was "our" Sophie just by virtue of her greying, grimy rubber. I figured I had two options: I could throw her in the trash like a normal mama or I could slice her open like I secretly always wanted.
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| Sophie's front and back sides, vertical incision along frontal (coronal) plane |
What's inside Sophie the Giraffe?
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| Sophie's slightly damaged plastic and rubber 'reed' (the little flap in the centre is the part that vibrates) |
Cutting along the seams left by the rubber molding, I was happy to find that there was comparably little dirt, water, or dirty water organisms living inside Sophie. Just her squeaky valve, a plastic and rubber 'reed' that vibrates and produces the high-pitched sound when air is forced through it. Because Sophie can only contain a small amount of air inside her at any given time, the high-pitched sound comes out as an attractive, short little squeak. Having taken her into the bath with us, I probably damaged the reed's flexible parts, thus reducing its ability to vibrate and dampening the sound.
What new/hacked uses does this toy have?
Sweet Baby James is in two minds about Sophie's sudden
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| In 2 minds about 1/2 a Sophie |
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| More flop for your (26) bucks |
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| And she's still delicious! |
Bonus: Instead of making one little squeak, Sophie the Giraffe can now function as a great whistle! You can even play her kind of like a flute: just put your mouth on the reed and give her a good blow, intermittently tapping the other side. This will stop any baby mid-cry -- if you don't mind looking like an ass, because it looks like you're doing something naughty with Sophie's. In fact will make your baby very, very happy. And once in a while, desperate times call for desperate measures.
On history
Young sales associate: "Aw, he's so cute! Look at his cheeks, they're huge!"
Mama: "Yup, he was Winston Churchill for Halloween!"
Young sales associate: [blank stare]
Mama: "You know, like, the British Prime Minister?"
Young sales associate: [goes back to folding clothes]
Mama: "You know, he won the war against Hitler, Never never never never, never give up, bowler hat and jowls... Oh, never mind."
Mama: "Yup, he was Winston Churchill for Halloween!"
Young sales associate: [blank stare]
Mama: "You know, like, the British Prime Minister?"
Young sales associate: [goes back to folding clothes]
Mama: "You know, he won the war against Hitler, Never never never never, never give up, bowler hat and jowls... Oh, never mind."
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| Winston Churchill needs his la-las |
On science in the home
Baby (sitting on hallway floor, enthusiastically): "Waa, woo, gaarrgh!"
Mama (rushing out of the bedroom): "Qu'est-ce-qui se passe? Oh. It's an ant. That's an ant crawling on your leg. That's what they do. They're like crumbs but they move."
Baby: "Gaaah, gah gah!"
Mama: "Yes, now it's on your hand. Now it's on your arm... Let's go play with some blocks."
Mama (rushing out of the bedroom): "Qu'est-ce-qui se passe? Oh. It's an ant. That's an ant crawling on your leg. That's what they do. They're like crumbs but they move."
Baby: "Gaaah, gah gah!"
Mama: "Yes, now it's on your hand. Now it's on your arm... Let's go play with some blocks."
On feeding
"You know, sometimes I think the best way to feed the baby would be to just throw little bits of it onto the floor."
Book Review: Parachutes & Kisses by Erica Jong (MMm)
Publisher: Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin (reprint 2006)
Intended Audience: Women, people excited by Erica Jong
Genre: Fiction
One sentence that summarizes the author's take on babies/parenting: "Life is risk, she thought. Motherhood is risk too." Also, "children are the periscope of the dead."
One sentence that summarizes the author's take on babies/parenting: "Life is risk, she thought. Motherhood is risk too." Also, "children are the periscope of the dead."
What I loved: The narrator's willingness to bare all. Her self-indulgence validates mine.
What made me want to cry into my burpee cloth: Instead of searching for her late grandfather's masterpiece painting, at the end of the book Isadora decides that she is his greatest masterpiece.
How many M's?: MMm (2.5/5)
Erica Jong was one of the premier sex symbols of the 1970s, the Linda Lovelace of the literary world. She wrote Fear of Flying
, a brutally honest account of her own -- sorry, her semi-fictional doppelgänger Isadora Wing's -- adventures in sex, marriage, love, and the seeming mutual exclusivity of the three. I enjoy Jong's work because it's so damn honest. Like, describing-the-urge-to-suckle-her-dog damn honest. Her writing is almost plotless, conversational in tone, and often repetitive. It is the mind of all the interesting, impulsive, artistic, ADHD women I know.
, a brutally honest account of her own -- sorry, her semi-fictional doppelgänger Isadora Wing's -- adventures in sex, marriage, love, and the seeming mutual exclusivity of the three. I enjoy Jong's work because it's so damn honest. Like, describing-the-urge-to-suckle-her-dog damn honest. Her writing is almost plotless, conversational in tone, and often repetitive. It is the mind of all the interesting, impulsive, artistic, ADHD women I know.  |
| Woman (not Erica Jong) suckling dog |
So I was delighted to find Parachutes & Kisses at a used book store in Vancouver. What luck! Not only do I providentially come across a third Isadora Wing novel, but it is about new motherhood. I'd read Fear of Flying while I myself was flitting around Europe in a depressed fugue not unlike her heroine's, and here Erica Jong came crawling back, ready to share the vicissitudes of motherhood by my side.
Parachutes & Kisses chronicles Isadora Wing/Erica Jong's first year out of a divorce from "Josh," a man she deeply loved and is the father of their three year-old child. Josh is several years younger than Isadora, and much is made of her supposed middle-aged status. In 1984 it was unusual to have a child in your late 30s (just ask my mother, she had me at the ripe old age of 38 in 1984) but 20 (okay, almost 30) years later it seems quaint to worry about such a thing. Over the course of just one generation the average age of childbirth has climbed almost four years.
About two thirds of the way through the novel, Wing meets another charming young man -- younger, even, than her ex-husband -- and commences an affair of epic proportions. There's a great sex scene, there's a hilarious moment where he swallows one of her diamond-stud earrings ("Oh...to have a life in which brilliant studs did not get nibbled off by brilliant studs."), and there is the classic unearthing of Isadora's insecurities as she throws herself into the abyss of loving someone who can never be her life partner. It's all very fun and interesting but... won't somebody think of the children?
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| Diamond studs: $1,199 at Walmart. That's one expensive, corporate crap, Ms. Jong. |
At so many points throughout the book -- which I read while nursing Sweet Baby James -- I paused and thought, but where is her baby? How does she have time for multi-orgasmic sex, working out, fellating her ex-husband, dealing with mucked up finances, shopping for designer dresses, traveling to California, Russia and Venice, and even sitting down to try to write a book? She does it with the help of a series of nannies and occasional visits from the ex. And not without a good dose of mother-guilt.
"Raising a child and making a living were no easy feats. One always felt divided. One always felt that one's vital organs were being torn apart." (p. 364)
But for the most part, Isadora isn't focused on 'making a living' in this novel. In fact, she finds herself unable to write. She's blocked and -- surprise, surprise -- she needs an exciting sexual relationship with a man to unblock herself. A classic trope. But in all that time Isadora spends discovering herself in the supine position, Isadora's child is suffering from mommy's inability to locate steady, consistent, loving childcare.
"She'd no sooner build an attachment than some catastrophe would intervene... The hot-and-cold-running nannies had been bad enough when Josh was there, but now that he wasn't, poor Amanda was making do as best she could. She held on to her rituals: the bath, the Muppets, the bedtime recital of the day's activities." (p. 163-164)
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| Pretty Woman: to find herself, our heroine needs a man |
From an outsider's perspective, and even from Isadora's own, it's obvious that her daughter needs more of her mother. This also applies to the book as a whole: its centre shifts from Isadora's commentary on new motherhood in the first half to disjointed escapades with her lover in the second. This plot twist is never really resolved, their relationship left hanging at book's end, their coupling's imminent doom spelled out in the Venetian clouds.
It's a shame because Isadora is a loving mother and there is true plot-driving frisson in her desire to connect with her daughter. She sees her daughter as an individual and loves her fiercely. I want to be inspired by this bond, not regaled with another episode with the so-called "boy-toy" (as she describes her novel in the book's afterward, written in 2006). I know about romance. I know about sex. That's how I got to have a baby in the first place.
When she does, her comments on motherhood are honest and so apt, even thirty years later. Take for example,
When she does, her comments on motherhood are honest and so apt, even thirty years later. Take for example,
"When the baby cried, Isadora's breasts leaked. When the baby was brought into the room by the nurse, Isadora roused herself out of a dead sleep and sat up in the waterbed to take the little bundle into her arms. The little rosebud lips latched onto her nipple with a prodigious force -- the primal force of the universe, it seemed. And Isadora would look down on the suckling baby, feeling her womb contract and her eyes fill with tears -- but tears for what, she did not know. Tears for Mandy's future, or her own? Tears for the unknowability of any baby's destiny? Tears for her own changed state? For never again would she go anywhere without thinking of her child; it was almost as if that cut umbilicus, now useless and dried, had ceased to be a physical object and had become a powerful moral one, a matrix in which her whole life was bound -- so that never again would she make any decision just for herself." (p. 153)
Perhaps all this lost opportunity is just a reflection of the times: women educated in the 1970s were soldiering into the workforce in the 1980s. The assumption was that you could do either, but not both, career and motherhood. Maybe, just as the sexual exploits of liberated woman were not seen fit to print before Jong did so, the pain and ecstasy of motherhood was an invisible, untouchable subject. Not so nowadays (cf. um, this blog, and our first book review, Let The Baby Drive).
But every movement has its pioneers and Jong's honesty is such that even her brief forays into the essence of motherhood might still seem shocking now. She writes about the intimate, wordless connection between motherhood and death; about ambivalence toward pregnancy and her "bourgeois ovaries"; about the double-edged sword of having "help" from other people after birth (we need less of it, but we also need more). Who among us doesn't feel a little kinship with the following?
But every movement has its pioneers and Jong's honesty is such that even her brief forays into the essence of motherhood might still seem shocking now. She writes about the intimate, wordless connection between motherhood and death; about ambivalence toward pregnancy and her "bourgeois ovaries"; about the double-edged sword of having "help" from other people after birth (we need less of it, but we also need more). Who among us doesn't feel a little kinship with the following?
"No longer were Josh and Isadora ever alone. There was a baby nurse. There was a cook. There were all these people supposedly to help, but every one of them was as much a hindrance as a help. The baby nurse ate and ate and ate. She resented Isadora for breast-feeding and she retaliated in the classic baby-nurse manner: "Mrs. Ace," she would say nasally whenever the baby cried, "your milk's not rich enough -- your baby is starving to death." "
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| Bourgeois ovaries |
Jong's work is readable because she terrorizes herself with the same steady hand with which she dissects others. She describes her own shameless infidelities, shameful vulnerabilities, and raw insecurities without stopping to remember that, hey, she's the author and she's in charge of this book. Parachutes & Kisses is like that time you wrote a drunken email to your ex and then decided to cc eighteen million other people, for profit. The Wing/Jong persona is crazy, funny, literary, and very much embodied; in short, I see myself in her. I only hope that I can channel my own version of Jong-craziness into attentive, full-time parenthood.
First Class, Baby (Part IV: Ten Tips for Traveling Alone with Infants and Other Dangerous Cargo)
On Christmas day I crossed the border and got my Green Card. Yes! We're home now (the new home, in San Francisco, where I live with my husband and son) and I've had a few days to look back and reflect on my six-week window into life as the single, itinerant mother of a ten month-old named after a Mojave desert plant.
What did I learn?
Oh, lots of things. Like how old unmarried men are drawn to young (presumably) unwed mothers like old unmarried moths to an insta-family flame. And how tough it is to be a single mom -- to be the only person who could possibly take the baby for his night-time walk and rush him to the toilet at six am and then boil some organic prunes without forgetting about them on the stove for two hours. I value my family and friends in a whole new way.
But the really important thing I learned was how to travel with a baby. Sweet Baby James has taken eight flights in his short life; he's also taken one VIA train ride, two commuter trains and countless buses, subways, a boat, cars... he even climbed a motorcycle for the purposes of taking a picture.
Here's how I do it.
Ten Tips for Traveling Alone with Infants and Other Dangerous Cargo
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| Ocotillo, Mojave desert false cactus |
What did I learn?
Oh, lots of things. Like how old unmarried men are drawn to young (presumably) unwed mothers like old unmarried moths to an insta-family flame. And how tough it is to be a single mom -- to be the only person who could possibly take the baby for his night-time walk and rush him to the toilet at six am and then boil some organic prunes without forgetting about them on the stove for two hours. I value my family and friends in a whole new way.
But the really important thing I learned was how to travel with a baby. Sweet Baby James has taken eight flights in his short life; he's also taken one VIA train ride, two commuter trains and countless buses, subways, a boat, cars... he even climbed a motorcycle for the purposes of taking a picture.
Here's how I do it.
Ten Tips for Traveling Alone with Infants and Other Dangerous Cargo
- Ditch the stroller. It is not easier to push your baby in front of you when you're also dragging a piece of luggage behind you and the diaper bag is falling off your shoulder. Plus, you have to take the baby out of the stroller when you're going through security, and again when you fold it up to store it when you get to the plane/train. Babywearing, on the other hand, rocks. You can leave the baby in the carrier when you walk through security, though the guard will stop you to wipe your hands for explosives (not the pooping kind, unfortunately). Babywearing will also save you when baby's fussing and you need to walk up and down the aisles. Plus, bored strangers are less likely to assault (read: try to pick up and cuddle) your baby up if he/she's in a carrier. I like my ring-sling because it also doubles as a blanket when baby goes to sleep (that's a lie, he never goes to sleep). Mine are home-made but they look like the Maya Wrap:
***Airports are also great places to check out the hottest in babywearing fashion. See the airport posts on Too Hot For Stroller!
- Pack light. Lighter than you ever thought you could. They probably have diapers, wipes, burpee cloths, nursing pads and other necessities where you are going. Just bring what you need for your travel time plus 24 hours (in case of delays) and find a pharmacy first thing when you wake up the next day.
- That said, having a portable changing pad/diaper kit really comes in handy. Public restrooms should have clean and safe baby changing facilities, but they don't. It drives me crazy (see photos: www.mamactivism.wordpress.com). This is what my Skip Hop portable changing station looks like:
- Pack even lighter. Yes, babies love to play with stuff but it doesn't have to be the locally-made, ethically produced organic toys they're familiar with. Your host's measuring cups, colander, coffee tin, old comb, recycling, etc. are all great options and you can leave them behind guilt-free. If someone decides to laden you with gifts (and they will), ship them home.
- Don't waste time trying to get baby to keep his hands to himself. OK so airplanes are nastydirty and the windows on the bus are grimygross. But the constant vigilance it will require and the fight that might ensue between you and the baby just isn't worth it. Pack some diaper wipes. Keep them at hand so you can wipe his. Think about all the immunities he's building.
- Accept Help. Your host wants to help you to the station? The airline allows you to board early? That withered old man is going to attempt to haul your suitcase up the stairs? Let people help because it makes them feel good. If help isn't forthcoming, politely ask for assistance. You are transporting the future of the world in your arms and they are rushing home to catch a Friends re-run.
- Make friends with the flight attendants. These are people who can make or break your journey and -- what luck -- they've made a career out of being helpful and cooing at infants! (they also watch out for thousands of people's safety -- and Alec "not a very unselfish man" Baldwin -- but that's another matter). When you're boarding the plane, pause and say hello, ask them how their day's going; show them your adorable little bundle. Then show them your boarding pass so they direct you to your seat. This way they know how to find you and shower you with attention: I had flight attendants offer to hold and carry the baby when I had to go pee; give me free meals, blankets and bottles of water; invite me to their gourmet first nations restaurant, stow my luggage at the front of the plane, let me change the baby in the first class toilet, and take pictures of us. Win!
Our First VIA Train: taken by the ever-lovely attendant, Rachel - Wear slip-on shoes. You have to take off your footwear at security these days. Boots with laces mean sitting down (as if there's a chair available) and bending over to get them off. Babies in carriers don't like it when you sit down and they hate it when you bend over. I know because I made the mistake of wearing my new boots because I was too lazy to carry them. It sucked.
- Carry written and notarized permission from the baby's other parent if you're crossing an international border. I forgot this and just barely squeaked into Canada. "Um, my husband knows I'm taking the baby to Montreal, I promise..." doesn't always cut it. You might also need a copy of the baby's birth certificate to prove that the person who gave permission is in fact the baby's other mama/papa.
- Don't worry about sticking to a routine. Traditional parenting philosophy predicts disaster (danger, danger, high voltage!) when a routine gets thrown off. But flight attendants were asking me, "Is your baby always this good?" and I don't think they were just being nice. Baby needs to know that although everything else is changing, you're there and not going anywhere (without her). I tried to focus on reading Sweet Baby James' cues and providing for them. It was more important to me that he feel content and comfortable than that he finish his breakfast (even if I had been
burningcooking those damn prunes for two hours). He napped when he wanted to, nursed when he wanted to, alternately charmed or rebuffed strangers when he wanted to.
Aside from the non-negotiable enactment of regular diaper changes, I let SBJ be the boss of SBJ. Even when he was a jerk and refused to engage in the best dual-baby-wearing-mama photo op ever.
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| www.toohotforstroller.wordpress.com |
On boundaries
Husband: Honey, why did you move the trash can that was in the bathroom? We need it for poopy diapers.
Wife: It was beside the heater. I can deal with poop. Cooked poop is another matter.
Wife: It was beside the heater. I can deal with poop. Cooked poop is another matter.
On mortality (Merry Christmas!)
Little girl, to her friend: "Santa Claus is dead, Dylan. He died centuries and centuries ago."
On Santa Claus
E: Look at all the cookies we baked, imagine we left them all for Santa and he ate them all?
Me: Imagine everyone left this many cookies at all the houses for Santa?
E: He eats a lot of cookies already. That many cookies isn't good for you, I bet he has diabetes from too many cookies....
Me: .....
Wordless Wednesday: Too Hot For Stroller!
This week, Cait's got aviator shades, awesome tattoos, and a baby on her front. THFS!
Want more Too Hot For Stroller?
On Finally Having Time to Shave Ones Legs...
E: "How come you gave the cat a bath?"
Me: "I didn't give the cat a bath?"
E: "Maybe the cat fell in the tub? The bath water is draining and there's a LOT of black cat hair in there..."
Husband: *bursts out in hysterical laughter*
On vaginal birth
Wife: "So before we decided on a natural birth, I had actually thought I wanted to have a Cesarean. You know, to save my precious vagina. Some women get such bad tearing."
Husband: "Well... I think your precious vagina came through with flying colours."
(read an interview about Caesarean birth trauma with therapist Helen Dunn)
Husband: "Well... I think your precious vagina came through with flying colours."
(read an interview about Caesarean birth trauma with therapist Helen Dunn)
Sunday Brunch: Interview with Helen Dunn about Caesarean Birth Trauma
I have something to confess. When I first found out I was pregnant, I considered having an elective Caesarean. Since there are no negative side effects for the baby, my thoughts went (and of course C-sections wouldn't be so common if there were!), I might as well save my precious vagina.
SV: I guess the first thing I want to know is how you came to choose this topic for your thesis. It's a personal one, and I think it's very courageous for you to have opened up your personal trauma to academic study. What prompted you to take that step?
But as I looked into it, I found out that there are potential side effects for the baby – higher risk of respiratory problems (because the water in the baby's lungs is not expelled by uterine contractions), and low but significant chances of the baby being cut by the knife. There is also a risk of complications in future pregnancies, though those rates vary according to the type of incision made.
And of course, planned Caesarean birth just isn't really the Svea way; I soon booked myself an appointment at the Maison de Naissance (birthing centre) in Montreal. We were followed by three midwives and I got on the natural birth bandwagon, reading some great books like Erica Lyon's Big Book of Birth
and Une Naissance Heureuse by Isabelle Brabant
(her article, Ne Touchez Pas a Ma Doleur, outlines the purpose and beauty of labour pain and is available for free, French download here). As the due date approached (and passed...), I began to worry more about the chance that I might have to have a C-section.
and Une Naissance Heureuse by Isabelle Brabant (her article, Ne Touchez Pas a Ma Doleur, outlines the purpose and beauty of labour pain and is available for free, French download here). As the due date approached (and passed...), I began to worry more about the chance that I might have to have a C-section. Whereas before I had thought of a C-section as a way to gain control over the situation (get the upper hand of the birthing process, if you will), now I knew that if I ended up having a Caesarean, it would essentially be a matter outside my control. It was not something I chose or would choose, unless the survival of the baby were at stake. It's in this switch, from a person with agency to choose to a patient without choice at all, that a great chasm of pain resides.
Helen Dunn is a recent graduate of Simon Fraser University's Counselling Psychology programme. In her research she interviewed women who had undergone both unplanned Caesareans and regular vaginal births. Her thesis, Someone Else's Child: Women's experiences of disconnection and birth distress is a heartbreaking look into their post-Caesarean feelings of loss and alienation. When I read about her work in the Georgia Straight newspaper I realized there was a whole side of the debate I had been missing: the effect of the Caesarean on the mother.
There are obvious physical side effects – a C-section is not a 'procedure', it is a major surgery, with all the risks of infection and complication that surgeries entail – but mothers' emotional and cognitive effects have been swept under the rug. Our attitude that the baby's health is the only important thing has blinded us. The reality is that the mother's sense of well-being is closely interwoven with the baby's. And it is important in its own right. Of course, not every Caesarean turns out badly -- for some women this is an important and empowering choice. But for some, their unplanned Caesarean has ramifications that affect them for the rest of their lives.
I contacted Helen Dunn to find out more about these issues and how women like myself could be better informed. In the following interview she describes her personal experience as well as the implications of her research. Helen is a warm person full of vitality and insight. She conducts phone therapy with new mothers, so if you're dealing with any of these issues I recommend you contact her (her website is helendunncounselling.com -- she also does in-person sessions at the Grant Street Wellness Clinic in Vancouver). Her very readable thesis can be downloaded for free from the SFU website.
-- Svea Boyda-Vikander
-- Svea Boyda-Vikander
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| Helen Dunn |
SV: I guess the first thing I want to know is how you came to choose this topic for your thesis. It's a personal one, and I think it's very courageous for you to have opened up your personal trauma to academic study. What prompted you to take that step?
HD: The biggest thing for me was trying to make sense of my experience – which I also put a focus on in the research, making sense of the participants' experiences. I thought to myself, This can't be an isolated incident, this can't just be me.
I had the impression as I was going about my daily life and recovery from my Caesarean birth trauma that there were women at that very moment somewhere right now, isolated with no one they could tell... I wanted to do this work not just for myself but for them as well. When I put my call out for participants this whole underground network of women miraculously appeared. All these women who are on the front lines of birth trauma and obstetrical violence against women started to appear in my life. Gloria Lemay, Myrta Marten... I felt very encouraged. Myrta said to me, "You're doing very important work." Also, my supervisor is a trauma specialist herself and she was very encouraging.
SV: Could you tell us a little bit about your experience?
HD: I was alone for the birth of my first child – my family was in Ontario, and my husband wasn't there for the predominant part of the labour. We were in the hospital where I had been induced, and had been told to expect a long labour, so I had sent him home to look after our dogs. He came back but he had gone to get some breakfast when the fetal heart monitor started indicating the baby was in distress. I underwent an emergency Caesarean right away.
Also postpartum it was difficult for us in that I had the eight and a half months' preparation for the baby coming. He wasn't as prepared and so he wasn't as supportive as I wanted him to be. It was also a lack of community – you know, not having the village (for me, my family) around to help.
But my mom came two weeks post-partum...She stayed for a month and then I went back to Ontario for four months while my husband stayed here. I needed her. I could not function or cope, so she took time off work, slept with the baby and brought him to me to nurse. Her intervention probably buffered the effects of my not being available to bond with him like I wanted to.
SV: Four months is a long time when you're post-partum. How did you manage to reintegrate your husband into your life when you came back?
HD: We went to therapy, and we went to an information session on Post-Partum Depression. When he gained more of an understanding that what I was going through was out of my control and it wasn't something that I was doing on purpose or could snap out of, he was able to be a lot more compassionate and understanding.
SV: What has been the most significant challenge for you in doing this research?
HD: I think the main thing was trying to do justice to the stories that the women told me. Trying to represent them accurately and give them the voice that I intended to... While there were commonalities there were also differences, and I wanted to communicate this to professionals. So that they have some understanding about the issue but don't presume to know too much.
SV: What advice would you give women who are expecting?
HD: I would have a doula, somebody to advocate for you, certainly. Ask your medical providers what their C-section rate is – not just doctors, ask your midwife as well. And I would absolutely advocate in a normal pregnancy to have a homebirth. I think that medical professionals are geared and trained to believe that whoever they have coming in the door is having an emergency... So I would recommend to go in with a clear plan and to go in being assertive. To not be afraid of what other people are going to think about you in that moment. It might affect you for the rest of your own and the rest of your child's life. Prepare yourself mentally, think of how you might handle a C-section, what you would want that to look like, and what resources and help you might seek out afterwards.
SV: What about partners? How can they be supportive?
HD: I think to be a mediator between any kind of medical staff or intervention. Knowing what the woman wants, and being willing to advocate for her and act on her behalf. It's difficult if you're in pain and somebody's telling you your baby is at risk. It's easy to just go along.
In the case of surgery under general anaesthetic, it's helpful to have somebody there who can explain what happened. There's evidence to suggest that trauma takes place when dissociation takes place. I think trying to have a woman maintain as much control as possible, even in small ways, goes a long way in terms of allowing her to feel active and empowered. Also, a partner can interrupt any small-talk that's going on over her [One of the participants in Helen's thesis describes doctors conversing about golf over her supine body, just before conducting the Caesarean – Ed.]. And simply having someone validating your experience after the fact can help you work through it.
SV: Several of the women you interviewed describe violent visualizations in the weeks (and perhaps months) after their Caesareans. In a poem published in the 1970s, Sharon Olds describes these violent dreams and fantasies, "It is true that the young woman, a mother for three days, would die for her child, and dreams every night of murder." Women I've met online talk about being kept up at night by graphic imagery of their babies' death. I personally was much relieved when we left our fourth-floor apartment in Montreal – for months I'd been terrified I would accidentally (but somehow casually) drop the baby over the balcony. What kind of attention has the medical establishment paid to these kinds of fantasies? What do you, as a therapist, make of them? When do they become a problem?
HD: I went through treatment for that myself. It was Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy for Primary Obsessions (intrusive thoughts). Mostly, the way that it was dealt with for me was that it was normalized. We framed it in this way: when you have something very precious, vulnerable, and small, the most conscientious people will have alarming thoughts of losing that 'thing'. It's different from psychosis. It needs to be talked about more and brought out into the open because some women don't feel disturbed by these thoughts, but many do. I myself wondered, How do I know I'm not psychotic? I had a social worker come to my house and evaluate me and I said to her, "Am I going to hurt my baby?" and she said, "No." It was a great relief.
SV: What do you make of one of your participant's hypothesis that there is an evolutionary mechanism that tells a mother that her baby has died if she isn't placed in close proximity to it in the first few minutes after birth? This makes perfect sense to me (and is perhaps a better explanation for the need for immediate contact than the critical bonding period theory). I'm reminded of the LeBoyer bathing technique, where newborns are placed into a warm bath immediately. It's not popular now but it was trendy in the 1970s. Many infants didn't cry – but their mothers did, saying "My baby is dead, I know it is, just tell me."
HD: Having the actual experience of seeing the baby born and birthing the baby... It's such a huge experience, and it makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint that you would feel a real disconnect if you didn't have that. But, then again, not all women who have C-sections are traumatized or feel disconnected. There is also evidence to suggest that even if women do feel disconnected or not as bonded with their baby as they would have liked, they will deny it. I believe this is due to societal and cultural pressure.
SV: One of your participants mentions the disappearance of the placenta after her C-section. Is this common? I recently interviewed a doula who does placenta encapsulation so women can consume it post-partum. But it can also play roles in ritual, art and other empowering actions. What role do you think the placenta might play in recovery?
HD: I believe it is common. Mine specifically went for testing to see what had happened because of the prenatal complications. They wanted to know why the placenta had "failed" to nourish him. The exact wording I was told was that he was "thriving in a hostile environment". Could it be helpful? I'm sure... The second time around I chose to have the placenta encapsulated so I could consume it for the health benefits. More women should be aware of this option.
SV: Epidural also inhibits beta-endorphin production and therefore has been hypothesized to interfere with mother-infant bonding, though of course most hospital births use it and mothers report bonding well with their babies. What do you think about this?
HD: I think hormones play a role, but I don't know about the research around that. I think that inductions are a dangerous thing. When you have those kind of artificial synthetic hormones, drugs, taking over your body, it often doesn't end up well. Inductions lead to much higher rates of C-sections. First-time mothers have a higher rate of induction than anyone else. Why? Who knows.
Part of my trauma was the induction, because I couldn't get up and walk around. I continue to have difficulty in situations where I feel confined – agoraphobia. That has taken a huge toll on my life.
In my second pregnancy I had the same 'problem' (my baby didn't seem to be gaining weight at the normal rate). My midwife advised me to drink lots of water, and otherwise not to worry about it. I had to go into my regular doctor, who had been my OB/GYN for my first baby, to get a prescription filled. And she looked at me and said, “You're so small, are they monitoring you properly?” At birth, my second baby was seven pounds... Totally healthy. I wonder if I had been followed my a mid-wife and received that same advice for my first baby, the outcome would have been different.
I still feel disconnected from my first child, but it makes me try harder. I have that extra push to connect with him. And I don't wish a traumatic C-section birth on anyone but there's been a lot of positive things to come out of it. I tell him all the time that his birth is a blessing to so many other people, because it will help them. Women everywhere can benefit from my experience, and from his experience. It's so painful not to connect deeply with your newborn but we need to talk about it.
On memory
Papa: "You know, it's so weird that we don't remember this time as babies. He won't remember this later. It's like hanging out with a drunk person."
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