My friend Beth wrote about how hard it is not to judge other mothers recently. Learning to be less judgmental is something that I've been struggling with for many, many years. When I got pregnant I had a very definite notion of what made a "good" mother, and a complex set of plans and rules for how I would be a good mother myself: M would only wear cloth diapers; she would be exclusively breastfed for one year and then eat only organic baby food; she would not watch TV; she would not have any licensed character toys, nothing Disney or Dora or Elmo.
And then M was born, and I learned the meaning of the word "adapt." Cloth diapers? Sure, for about 2 hours after she came home from the hospital. Exclusive breastfeeding? Three weeks, until I simply could not manage to nurse her every 20 minutes without losing my mind and took my husband up on his offer to give her a bottle. No TV? Until I figured out that the Baby Mozart video would make her stop crying and sometimes put her to sleep. (I have managed to do only organic baby food and formula and to avoid licensed character toys, though.)
Some of these adaptations were easy for me to accept (the diaper issue gave me about 3 seconds' pause and then I whipped out the Pampers that the hospital gave us). The boob issue, though, was heartwrenching, and I'm still dealing wth it nearly 9 months later. On bad days, I tell myself that M is a formula-fed baby because I'm lazy/selfish/a bad mother. On good days, I remember what a relief it was to have a break from nursing, and that break helped me get through the rest of the desperate newborn phase and ultimately be a good mother to her because I might have thrown myself out the window otherwise. But every time I hear anything from a lactivist, I get incredibly defensive. I have some genuine ideological issues with lactivism, but I respond to it from a visceral, emotional place, making it hard to be rational. The best defense being a spirited offense, I find myself being just as judgmental of lactivists as (I perceive) they are of me. It is not something I'm proud of, and I try to rein it in (or at least keep my mouth shut) but it is definitely there.
I read The Mommy Wars recently, and while I found it sort of infuriating (and useless, but that's a different post), there was one sentence that jumped off the page at me and made all the lightbulbs in my head go off. To paraphrase: We see our own failures as mothers, real or imagined, in the successes of others. I think that's at the heart of my judging women who exclusively breastfeed and are vocal about it (that's my problem, that volubility; I'm certainly not a breastfeeding opponent). Women who manage to exclusively breastfeed can do something I could not do; they look, to my self-critical eye, like they're better mothers than I am. On those good days when I can focus on the ways in which I'm a good mother to M, I can manage not to feel judgmental of lactivists. I can applaud their dedication to their children, admire their stamina, and feel that the world is a better place for the presence of these mothers without casting aspersions on my own mothering. On the bad days I think of them as boob Nazis and I want to slap the beatific Mother Superior smiles off their smug faces.
We see our failures in the success of other women. Would this be a problem if women were raised to believe that a triumph for one of us is a triumph for all of us? That we don't have to get ahead by tearing one another down? That our own accomplishments are good, worthy things and deserve applause on their own merit? Every mother who acts out of love for her child and does the best she can with the emotional, physical, and financial resources available to her is a good mother. Every mother deserves celebration and encouragment, not judgment. I don't want to teach M that the only way for her to shine is to cast shadows over other women, and if I want that lesson to stick, it's something I've got to learn on my own, first.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Which Side Are You On?
I was reading this midwife's blog post about tokophobia, the fear of childbirth, and it got me thinking about how divisive American culture is about the actual process of childbirth.
On the one hand, you have the anti-medical homebirth fanatics. They insist that if you so much as step foot in a hospital while pregnant, you will leave three days later sliced open, full of drugs, with a sluggish baby who won't breast feed or bond with you, and maybe your vagina will prolapse later because a careless surgeon forgot to stitch it back in place.
On the other hand, you have the anti-homebirth medical fanatics. Their version of the story is, if you have your baby at home, an unwashed hippie woman will burn incense and make you drink a potion brewed from things growing in your backyard, slather you with essential oils while chanting to the Goddess, and most likely accidentally smother you, drop the baby on its head, and then you'll bleed to death.
The reality is that neither version of the story is true. It's possible for a woman to have a peaceful, empowered hospital-set birth. It's equally possible for a woman to have a safe, happy, careful homebirth. Interventions aren't always all-or-nothing and homebirths aren't always nothing-or-death. The problem is, there's no middle ground in American thinking. There's no room to acknoweledge that each side of the "debate" has its valid points and its weak points, and there's certainly no encouragement, from either side, for women to make up their own minds. Both sides use scare tactics and demonize the other viewpoint, and the pregnant woman caught in the middle is left feeling that, regardless of where she has her birth experience, it's going to be awful.
Women aren't empowered by the medical community in any aspect of our sexual health. Too many women simply hand the reins over to their doctor and sit passively by while things happen to them. I wish it was possible for more women to feel they're partners in their health care, that their practioners are going to listen and respect them. While I think that part of the blame lies with the medical establishment, I believe that women need to stand up for themselves and demand the kind of care they want and deserve.
On the one hand, you have the anti-medical homebirth fanatics. They insist that if you so much as step foot in a hospital while pregnant, you will leave three days later sliced open, full of drugs, with a sluggish baby who won't breast feed or bond with you, and maybe your vagina will prolapse later because a careless surgeon forgot to stitch it back in place.
On the other hand, you have the anti-homebirth medical fanatics. Their version of the story is, if you have your baby at home, an unwashed hippie woman will burn incense and make you drink a potion brewed from things growing in your backyard, slather you with essential oils while chanting to the Goddess, and most likely accidentally smother you, drop the baby on its head, and then you'll bleed to death.
The reality is that neither version of the story is true. It's possible for a woman to have a peaceful, empowered hospital-set birth. It's equally possible for a woman to have a safe, happy, careful homebirth. Interventions aren't always all-or-nothing and homebirths aren't always nothing-or-death. The problem is, there's no middle ground in American thinking. There's no room to acknoweledge that each side of the "debate" has its valid points and its weak points, and there's certainly no encouragement, from either side, for women to make up their own minds. Both sides use scare tactics and demonize the other viewpoint, and the pregnant woman caught in the middle is left feeling that, regardless of where she has her birth experience, it's going to be awful.
Women aren't empowered by the medical community in any aspect of our sexual health. Too many women simply hand the reins over to their doctor and sit passively by while things happen to them. I wish it was possible for more women to feel they're partners in their health care, that their practioners are going to listen and respect them. While I think that part of the blame lies with the medical establishment, I believe that women need to stand up for themselves and demand the kind of care they want and deserve.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Everyone's Child
Watching the Virginia Tech tragedy unfold over yesterday and today, all I can think is, "Each of those victims is someone's child."
Since Miette was born, every tragedy or misfortune that I see reminds me that motherhood is synonymous, to a certain extent, with pain. Every day of this world, mothers live with the knowledge that our grasp on our children's safety is incredibly tenuous. I do everything I can to ensure Miette's safety, health and happiness - and in the end, ultimately, her fate is out of my hands. I can't control what the rest of the world does to this child who means the world to me, and today in particular I find that pain especially poignant.
I think the whole of humanity has a duty to treat one another gently, to work towards the end of making everyone safe and whole. But I also feel that I, as a mother, have a particular obligation to make the world a better place, even though my contribution is infintesimal in the face of the world's problems, becasue I want the world to be a better place now that Miette is in it.
Since Miette was born, every tragedy or misfortune that I see reminds me that motherhood is synonymous, to a certain extent, with pain. Every day of this world, mothers live with the knowledge that our grasp on our children's safety is incredibly tenuous. I do everything I can to ensure Miette's safety, health and happiness - and in the end, ultimately, her fate is out of my hands. I can't control what the rest of the world does to this child who means the world to me, and today in particular I find that pain especially poignant.
I think the whole of humanity has a duty to treat one another gently, to work towards the end of making everyone safe and whole. But I also feel that I, as a mother, have a particular obligation to make the world a better place, even though my contribution is infintesimal in the face of the world's problems, becasue I want the world to be a better place now that Miette is in it.
Friday, April 6, 2007
By Way Of Introduction
I decided to start this blog as a place to put all of my musings on motherhood, because it's a singular experience in my life and I think it deserves its own space. Mothering is a choice I consciously made, after a great deal of thought and introspection, and it continues to be an endeavor that I take VERY seriously. I love thinking about it, I love talking about it, and I love doing it. I love being a mother as much as I love my daughter; I love her because she made me into a mother.
A few weeks ago, on a message board I participate in a comment was made that women have babies because we don't have the "chutzpah" to accomplish anything ourselves - so we have to do it through our children. I was shocked and so, so angered by the comment, because the message board is supposed to be a feminist one. This first post here at melodrama mama is just a re-hash of the comments that I made in response to that anger, and I think it serves as a pretty good introductory post.
I had a baby. I made an entire person out of my body. For nine months I carried her around and had to adjust every single thing I ate, breathed in, or put on my skin to keep her safe. I pushed her out into the world - an act that literally tore my body asunder - without the benefit of painkillers. I endangered my own life to give her life.
Now that she's here, I contend on a daily basis with terrifying, unmentionable dangers: That she'll be kidnapped in the grocery store, or someone will tamper with her formula, or she'll die of SIDS when she's in her crib, four feet away from where I'm sleeping, and I won't know it until the morning. I deal with judgment from total strangers over every choice I make regarding her care. I navigate the complexities of having a career (which I wanted to continue for its own sake, not simply out of economic need) while being sleep-deprived and half-distracted, all the time. My relationship with my husband has been changed at its very foundation, and I'm re-learning how to be a wife when I've added "and mother" to my identity. I struggle every day to find a balance between being the center of a tiny universe, a supportive and engaged partner, and an autonomous person with my own interests.
People who have such disdain for the act of mothering think it's just a brainless biological choice that we make out of vanity or a lack of imagination. Or, in the context of the offensive quote about mothers' lack of chutzpah, we have children because we're too timid to change the world ourselves. But this job? Takes more courage than anything I've ever done in my life, it takes more courage than I actually HAVE. Chutzpah? Honey, I am MADE of chutzpah.
And this denigration of motherhood isn't just about mothers. It's about every woman who makes choices in the face of other women insisting those choices aren't good enough. Even other women who claim to be feminists - especially other women who claim to be feminists. What kind of feminism is that? I don't see how any concept of feminism can include denigrating mothers. Motherhood requires womanhood, and supporting other women is fundamental to feminism. Accepting it when people attack mothering is the same as accepting it when people attack women who are acadmics, who work in traditionally male jobs, who choose not to marry their partners, who CAN'T marry their partners because of homophobia...it's accepting an attack on anyone with a vagina, anywhere.
We're all in this together, us women. If we don't support one another and if we're not able to draw strength from each others' experiences, then we might as well give in and accept the world the way it is. And that's not behavior I'm willing to teach my daughter - or accept for myself.
- H.
A few weeks ago, on a message board I participate in a comment was made that women have babies because we don't have the "chutzpah" to accomplish anything ourselves - so we have to do it through our children. I was shocked and so, so angered by the comment, because the message board is supposed to be a feminist one. This first post here at melodrama mama is just a re-hash of the comments that I made in response to that anger, and I think it serves as a pretty good introductory post.
I had a baby. I made an entire person out of my body. For nine months I carried her around and had to adjust every single thing I ate, breathed in, or put on my skin to keep her safe. I pushed her out into the world - an act that literally tore my body asunder - without the benefit of painkillers. I endangered my own life to give her life.
Now that she's here, I contend on a daily basis with terrifying, unmentionable dangers: That she'll be kidnapped in the grocery store, or someone will tamper with her formula, or she'll die of SIDS when she's in her crib, four feet away from where I'm sleeping, and I won't know it until the morning. I deal with judgment from total strangers over every choice I make regarding her care. I navigate the complexities of having a career (which I wanted to continue for its own sake, not simply out of economic need) while being sleep-deprived and half-distracted, all the time. My relationship with my husband has been changed at its very foundation, and I'm re-learning how to be a wife when I've added "and mother" to my identity. I struggle every day to find a balance between being the center of a tiny universe, a supportive and engaged partner, and an autonomous person with my own interests.
People who have such disdain for the act of mothering think it's just a brainless biological choice that we make out of vanity or a lack of imagination. Or, in the context of the offensive quote about mothers' lack of chutzpah, we have children because we're too timid to change the world ourselves. But this job? Takes more courage than anything I've ever done in my life, it takes more courage than I actually HAVE. Chutzpah? Honey, I am MADE of chutzpah.
And this denigration of motherhood isn't just about mothers. It's about every woman who makes choices in the face of other women insisting those choices aren't good enough. Even other women who claim to be feminists - especially other women who claim to be feminists. What kind of feminism is that? I don't see how any concept of feminism can include denigrating mothers. Motherhood requires womanhood, and supporting other women is fundamental to feminism. Accepting it when people attack mothering is the same as accepting it when people attack women who are acadmics, who work in traditionally male jobs, who choose not to marry their partners, who CAN'T marry their partners because of homophobia...it's accepting an attack on anyone with a vagina, anywhere.
We're all in this together, us women. If we don't support one another and if we're not able to draw strength from each others' experiences, then we might as well give in and accept the world the way it is. And that's not behavior I'm willing to teach my daughter - or accept for myself.
- H.
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