There are a lot of things that bug me if they aren't done right. I guess my pickiness is a sign that I really am taking on the task of keeping this house together and making it mine. I feel a responsibility for every towel that gets hung (or not hung) and every dish that gets washed (or not washed).
But occasionally I do get help. John does a heck of a lot. And sometimes other friends come over and do a chore here and there while they're visiting. This is wonderful. I'm ever so grateful.
And yet ... they do say, if you want something done right, do it yourself. And when something is not done by me, it's hard for me to relax about it. It might not be done right!
There is one thing, one thing that drives me nuts above any other.
It's more annoying than having my good towels used to clean up spills or dry off the dog, and then having them thrown in the dirty clothes hamper where they will soak all the other clothes and make them mold.
It's more frustrating than when I walk into the kitchen and immediately have to move all the knives, scissors, and pot handles out of the "Marko Reach Zone" -- about 12 inches from the edge, currently, but always extending.
It's more damaging than finding someone has used steel wool on all my teflon pans.
It's worse than when I go to do laundry and the hamper is almost empty ... only to find later, after I've done half a load, that all the important laundry was on the floor somewhere.
It gets under my skin worse than when I am done with the shower and reach out for the towel -- only to find it's hung on the hook on the door, where I can't reach it. (And no, I do NOT want to get out and drip all over the bath mat. Wet bath mats are yucky.)
It wastes more of my time than those 10 minute "blitz" cleanups that happen right before company comes, where stuff is collected from all the visible surfaces and stashed somewhere where I will never see it again.
You want to know what it is?
It's dumb because it is exactly what every other human being in the world likes to do when they walk into a messy kitchen. I must be some kind of freak.
I hate, hate, hate it when all the dishes are piled in the sink.
I know it seems natural. You want to clean off the counter, so you put stuff in the sink. And hey, it'll get a soak in there!
No, no, no. Let me explain why this is the worst thing ever.
1. Some things that are on the counter are not actually dirty, or not very dirty. There's the knife I use to cut cheese -- I use it all day. Just for cheese. But if every hour I go back into the kitchen to cut more cheese (and I do), and every time my cheese knife is swimming in cold grody water ... then I have to get out a new knife every time. Thus resulting in eight knives getting dirty when only one had to.
2. Conversely, some things are extremely dirty. If you put a water glass that just needed a quick scrub, a knife that was only used for cheese, and a bread plate that just needed rinsing, in a sink along with the pan where I browned the hamburger ... the sink will fill up with greasy water and cover every single dish with a nasty greasy film. Now every single dish will need a serious scrub and not a quick touch-up. The same goes for germy things, like the plate I used to cut raw chicken on. Now I don't just have one salmonella-contaminated plate. Now I have a whole sinkful.
3. Some things should not be soaked. And yet they're always in there: wooden spoons and cutting boards that will warp, can openers and cheese graters that will rust, and brillo pads that will dissolve and make the whole sink rusty and nasty.
4. I use that sink to wash dishes in ... but I can't just whip in and wash a couple of things if the whole dang thing is full of dishes. I prefer to keep the sink mostly empty and have room to wash. I also don't like trying to fill up a water pitcher over a towering heap of dishes. I need to have my sink open so I can actually use it!
4. (And this is the REAL reason.) Once the sink is full of cold, nasty, greasy, germy, scummy water ... it will need to be drained. By me. By reaching my hand into that cold, nasty, greasy, germy, scummy water and pulling the plug. Trust me: the more dishes are in that sink, the more scummy water, and the longer they've been there ... the less likely I am to actually brave the nastiness and actually wash them.
So, if you're ever in my kitchen and want to straighten up, but will not be actually washing the dishes ... pile 'em by the sink. PLEASE.
Does anyone else hate this, or is it just me? What are your housework pet peeves?
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Looking back at 2011
It's pretty sad when you have to look back through your blog archives to find out what your New Years' resolutions were. But I did it, and it's time to report:
1. Eat better. Less sugar and grains. Yes, I did this. I virtually eliminated sugar and we went grain-free from time to time. I can't seem to sustain being grain-free for very long, though. I get so hungry and end up eating a lot of expensive food ... For all their faults, grains are a cheap source of calories, and I eat a lot.
Then I got pregnant, and I stopped being so healthy. I know pregnancy is when it's most important to eat well. But it's also when you don't feel like the healthy food in your fridge, and you do feel like Taco Bell. I still don't eat a lot of sugar ... unless it's Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or someone made me cookies, or there's a party ... yeah. I find it almost impossible to turn down food that is available and delicious. For the first trimester, I hated sugar but loved processed fast food. Now, I want both. The amount of chocolate I eat is ridiculous. On the bright side, I think we ate even less processed food this year than last year, thanks to our garden and various elimination diets.
2. Pray better. Not really. I did try, and ended up about the same. I guess it would have been worse if I hadn't tried?
3. Be a better housekeeper. YES, I definitely did this. However, I also have more space to clean and it gets messier faster, due to the addition of a dog and the ever-increasing mess-making ability of the toddler. At least I am keeping pace with it. Sometimes I do dishes every single day! And that's without the dishwasher I used to have! When I was in the first trimester, I barely did a thing and we wobbled between John doing it and living in squalor. But now it's at least relatively decent all the time, and I do some housework every day.
4. To buy a house. We did this! And it's been great! When John had the two-hour commute, it was great for us and awful for him. Now that he's working closer, it's better in every respect than where we used to live. I have the garden, we have a dog (for better or worse), Marko has his own room, we spend less on housing every month (and it all goes toward owning this place for real), John's commute is shorter, the traffic and neighborhood are better ... it's great. I guess I do miss the apartment complex pool. I hardly ever used it when we lived there, but I would have loved to take Marko there this past summer.
5. To actually address stuff I'm angry about instead of stewing on it forever. All that really took was making the decision to do it -- and I'm positive that it helped. When I chose to remain silent about it, it was with the understanding that I had decided it was not a big deal and that I was going to get over it. When it was a big deal, I addressed it. And I do think we get along better when I am straightforward like that.
What has really made the biggest difference in our overall happiness, I admit, was not my new resolution but John's new job. Actually getting to spend time with each other and getting some rest was a really big deal. But what I've been doing hasn't seemed to have hurt.
6. To get another baby cooking. Check!
Here are ten of my favorite posts from the past year:
Conflict vs. cooperation This Russian novel of a post is probably my #1 favorite. I'm just a way better parent when I think of my child as a teammate rather than an adversary.
Lessons from my first garden Rookie gardeners might find it helpful to learn from my mistakes.
A person's a person Life has value. All life. That is why I'm against abortion, most war, and capital punishment.
Why I don't want another hospital birth Home birth can be just as safe or safer than a hospital birth in a healthy woman having a normal pregnancy ... so I'm having one this time.
Gender equality - I don't actually believe in the subordination of women, at least not in any really practical sense.
"Let kids be kids" - I think it's okay to give kids responsibilities. I don't think it's okay to let kids watch R-rated movies. Let's make a distinction, all right?
The fallacy of results "Here's the deal: there is more that matters besides how a child will 'turn out.' I'm not just raising the adult he will someday become. I'm raising the child I actually have."
Birth scars You never do forget what the moment of your child's birth was like. I wish the moment of Marko's birth were a happier memory.
Food sensitivities When I see odd symptoms in my son, I always look first to what he's eating. This is an instructional post with everything I've learned about food sensitivities.
Teaching vs. training You train a dog. You teach a child. This post is mainly about teaching children to deal with their big emotions.
Enjoy your New Years! I will be ringing it in by going to bed before ten and (hopefully) sleeping like a log all night. But if Marko's cough keeps up, I may find myself watching the clock turn over after all.
1. Eat better. Less sugar and grains. Yes, I did this. I virtually eliminated sugar and we went grain-free from time to time. I can't seem to sustain being grain-free for very long, though. I get so hungry and end up eating a lot of expensive food ... For all their faults, grains are a cheap source of calories, and I eat a lot.
Then I got pregnant, and I stopped being so healthy. I know pregnancy is when it's most important to eat well. But it's also when you don't feel like the healthy food in your fridge, and you do feel like Taco Bell. I still don't eat a lot of sugar ... unless it's Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or someone made me cookies, or there's a party ... yeah. I find it almost impossible to turn down food that is available and delicious. For the first trimester, I hated sugar but loved processed fast food. Now, I want both. The amount of chocolate I eat is ridiculous. On the bright side, I think we ate even less processed food this year than last year, thanks to our garden and various elimination diets.
2. Pray better. Not really. I did try, and ended up about the same. I guess it would have been worse if I hadn't tried?
3. Be a better housekeeper. YES, I definitely did this. However, I also have more space to clean and it gets messier faster, due to the addition of a dog and the ever-increasing mess-making ability of the toddler. At least I am keeping pace with it. Sometimes I do dishes every single day! And that's without the dishwasher I used to have! When I was in the first trimester, I barely did a thing and we wobbled between John doing it and living in squalor. But now it's at least relatively decent all the time, and I do some housework every day.
4. To buy a house. We did this! And it's been great! When John had the two-hour commute, it was great for us and awful for him. Now that he's working closer, it's better in every respect than where we used to live. I have the garden, we have a dog (for better or worse), Marko has his own room, we spend less on housing every month (and it all goes toward owning this place for real), John's commute is shorter, the traffic and neighborhood are better ... it's great. I guess I do miss the apartment complex pool. I hardly ever used it when we lived there, but I would have loved to take Marko there this past summer.
5. To actually address stuff I'm angry about instead of stewing on it forever. All that really took was making the decision to do it -- and I'm positive that it helped. When I chose to remain silent about it, it was with the understanding that I had decided it was not a big deal and that I was going to get over it. When it was a big deal, I addressed it. And I do think we get along better when I am straightforward like that.
What has really made the biggest difference in our overall happiness, I admit, was not my new resolution but John's new job. Actually getting to spend time with each other and getting some rest was a really big deal. But what I've been doing hasn't seemed to have hurt.
6. To get another baby cooking. Check!
Here are ten of my favorite posts from the past year:
Conflict vs. cooperation This Russian novel of a post is probably my #1 favorite. I'm just a way better parent when I think of my child as a teammate rather than an adversary.
Lessons from my first garden Rookie gardeners might find it helpful to learn from my mistakes.
A person's a person Life has value. All life. That is why I'm against abortion, most war, and capital punishment.
Why I don't want another hospital birth Home birth can be just as safe or safer than a hospital birth in a healthy woman having a normal pregnancy ... so I'm having one this time.
Gender equality - I don't actually believe in the subordination of women, at least not in any really practical sense.
"Let kids be kids" - I think it's okay to give kids responsibilities. I don't think it's okay to let kids watch R-rated movies. Let's make a distinction, all right?
The fallacy of results "Here's the deal: there is more that matters besides how a child will 'turn out.' I'm not just raising the adult he will someday become. I'm raising the child I actually have."
Birth scars You never do forget what the moment of your child's birth was like. I wish the moment of Marko's birth were a happier memory.
Food sensitivities When I see odd symptoms in my son, I always look first to what he's eating. This is an instructional post with everything I've learned about food sensitivities.
Teaching vs. training You train a dog. You teach a child. This post is mainly about teaching children to deal with their big emotions.
Enjoy your New Years! I will be ringing it in by going to bed before ten and (hopefully) sleeping like a log all night. But if Marko's cough keeps up, I may find myself watching the clock turn over after all.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Excellent article about nursing in public
So I was moseying around the internet today and found a three-part series that said everything I said yesterday, only better. It starts here. It's long, but really worth the read, and I'd love it if you'd come back here when you're done and tell me what you think.
The first part points out that in the Middle Ages, women weren't breastfeeding in public because they weren't in public at all, they were at home. This made me a little annoyed, because isn't that just upper-class women? The poor and rural women couldn't manage to stay home all the time because they were working.
The second part admits that yes, poor women have always nursed in public. Which is why perhaps breastfeeding in public isn't just a gender/modesty issue, but a class/decency issue. A good, decent, middle-class woman wouldn't dream of doing That in public. Because she can avoid being in public. It might be tremendously inconvenient for her to do so, but she will lest it seem that she can't afford to do what the wealthier women can. Only those women who have no choice will appear without stockings, be out without an escort, or be seen breastfeeding.
The third part ties it all together beautifully. Feminism allowed women, and then almost required women, to take part in society alongside men. We had to work, be in public, and participate in society. But, we are also the ones who bear the children and do most of the raising of them. The inescapable conclusion is that if we are to be allowed into the public sphere, our children must be too. Otherwise we are not accepting of women, just of women who are willing to turn their backs on motherhood. As a woman who has happily and successfully worked with a baby in tow, I think this may be the only solution to the dichotomy between "liberated, working, voting, thinking woman" and "traditional, cloistered, submissive, mothering woman." Why do we have to pick one of these two choices? Can't I work, vote, think, and raise children, too? It seems the only real obstacle to my doing this is society's discomfort with the mothering aspect of my female nature ... and that is an obstacle that may be overcome.
I have been accused lately of being "tainted with feminist ideals." Well, why not just come right out and say it: call me a feminist! I am not a radical feminist. I don't believe in sexual liberation or abortion or a lot of other things feminists are "supposed" to believe in. I believe that women should be free to participate in society ... while still being women. I think that women shouldn't have to disguise that they are female in order to be considered an equal human being.
And most of all, I think that respecting women means respecting mothers. That being anti-child is being anti-woman. That as long as we consider it justified to lash out at women for being mothers, for nursing babies, for bringing children into the spheres where they could otherwise be, we don't really respect women. We only respect them as long as they are willing to give up their motherhood -- something that is important to most of us. So most of us walk this balancing act of trying and trying to be good parents as well as participating in the public forum, and it's really, really hard. It's relatively easy for me. I am able to stay home; I don't have to work. I have a husband who pulls his weight and is willing to stay home so I can go out. My friends and family all respect what I do and treat me as a person completely equal to them. They are not offended by the presence of my child when I show up to their parties. They don't demand I get a babysitter or a nursing cover or stay home.
But other women don't have what I have. Let me tell you this: most women who have abortions do not want them. A large proportion of women who wean early, wanted to nurse longer. Many women who go back to work after six weeks want to stay home longer. Many women who never have children wanted to have them.
Can we really say women are liberated now if we're still over a barrel?
Okay, go read the articles and tell me what you think.
The first part points out that in the Middle Ages, women weren't breastfeeding in public because they weren't in public at all, they were at home. This made me a little annoyed, because isn't that just upper-class women? The poor and rural women couldn't manage to stay home all the time because they were working.
The second part admits that yes, poor women have always nursed in public. Which is why perhaps breastfeeding in public isn't just a gender/modesty issue, but a class/decency issue. A good, decent, middle-class woman wouldn't dream of doing That in public. Because she can avoid being in public. It might be tremendously inconvenient for her to do so, but she will lest it seem that she can't afford to do what the wealthier women can. Only those women who have no choice will appear without stockings, be out without an escort, or be seen breastfeeding.
The third part ties it all together beautifully. Feminism allowed women, and then almost required women, to take part in society alongside men. We had to work, be in public, and participate in society. But, we are also the ones who bear the children and do most of the raising of them. The inescapable conclusion is that if we are to be allowed into the public sphere, our children must be too. Otherwise we are not accepting of women, just of women who are willing to turn their backs on motherhood. As a woman who has happily and successfully worked with a baby in tow, I think this may be the only solution to the dichotomy between "liberated, working, voting, thinking woman" and "traditional, cloistered, submissive, mothering woman." Why do we have to pick one of these two choices? Can't I work, vote, think, and raise children, too? It seems the only real obstacle to my doing this is society's discomfort with the mothering aspect of my female nature ... and that is an obstacle that may be overcome.
I have been accused lately of being "tainted with feminist ideals." Well, why not just come right out and say it: call me a feminist! I am not a radical feminist. I don't believe in sexual liberation or abortion or a lot of other things feminists are "supposed" to believe in. I believe that women should be free to participate in society ... while still being women. I think that women shouldn't have to disguise that they are female in order to be considered an equal human being.
And most of all, I think that respecting women means respecting mothers. That being anti-child is being anti-woman. That as long as we consider it justified to lash out at women for being mothers, for nursing babies, for bringing children into the spheres where they could otherwise be, we don't really respect women. We only respect them as long as they are willing to give up their motherhood -- something that is important to most of us. So most of us walk this balancing act of trying and trying to be good parents as well as participating in the public forum, and it's really, really hard. It's relatively easy for me. I am able to stay home; I don't have to work. I have a husband who pulls his weight and is willing to stay home so I can go out. My friends and family all respect what I do and treat me as a person completely equal to them. They are not offended by the presence of my child when I show up to their parties. They don't demand I get a babysitter or a nursing cover or stay home.
But other women don't have what I have. Let me tell you this: most women who have abortions do not want them. A large proportion of women who wean early, wanted to nurse longer. Many women who go back to work after six weeks want to stay home longer. Many women who never have children wanted to have them.
Can we really say women are liberated now if we're still over a barrel?
Okay, go read the articles and tell me what you think.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
A bit about bodily autonomy
Still frustrated. I suppose I should spend less time on the internet. The more time I spend on the internet, the more I discover that women, particularly mothers, get a lot of flak.
First off, there's this nurse-in at Target. Here's the story: a woman was in Target when her baby got hungry. She went off to an abandoned spot, sat down on the floor half shielded by a jeans display, and threw a blanket over her baby to nurse him. A store employee showed up and told her she should move to the changing room, or else be more discreet. Several other employees stood around, giving her mean looks and talking about her in front of her.
The law is on the mom's side here, so she went to the manager. And the manager told her that Target's policy is different from the law (what?!) and so they didn't have to abide by it.
Now there's been a big protest where women are coming in and nursing in Target. The larger organization claims they don't mind, because the store policy actually is fine with nursing in the store. So perhaps this was just an issue with this one particular outlet.
Now I, being an idiot, went and read a whole bunch of comments on the issue. They actually weren't (mostly) that bad. But almost every comment said something like this: "I don't mind if moms nurse in public. So long as they are discreet/use a blanket/use a nursing cover/go to the dressing room, I think they should be allowed to."
It's just -- who made YOU the decision-maker about when and how someone else is "allowed" to feed her baby?
I prefer to nurse with no cover (because those things are a huge hassle, draw attention, and you can't really see what you're doing, despite the advertising) but without showing anything anyone would object to. Took me awhile to get the knack, and it takes wearing two shirts. But I'm lucky because of my build. A heavier woman might not be able to manage what I do. Does that mean she can't feed her baby in public?
The other big one -- really big -- was that stupid Facebook debate. I say it's over now because I've dropped out of it, but I believe the instigators are still hanging around saying nasty things about me. I realized I have the choice what I read, and I do not choose to read personal attacks on me. I also have the choice of where to comment, and that thread is not going to go anywhere good.
Anyway, it started with one person proclaiming as her status that she can't stand it when women post pictures of themselves nursing in a way that she doesn't consider "modest." She said that these women have no respect for themselves, so they shouldn't expect anyone else to respect them either.
Okay, so I don't post that kind of picture. The update was not directed at me. I have posted one picture of myself nursing on Facebook, and I doubt she ever realized that was what I was doing. And yet I still took it personally. If I should happen to feel very proud of my breastfeeding successes -- which I am -- and, in a moment of happiness, post a picture that doesn't match someone else's standards, why does that mean I've forfeited any right to the respect of others?
We went back and forth and back and forth over it. How modest does a woman have to be? How far do her rights go before they trample on someone else's rights? Is a blanket good enough? Or do we have to be so "discreet" that no one can tell we're nursing at all?
Now, we're a bunch of Catholics having this conversation. We value modesty because we don't want to tempt anyone into sin. I personally think it is very uncommon for men to be tempted into sin by the sight of a woman nursing. Secular conversations on this issue convince me of this: the men don't want to see it, not because they find the sight "sexy," but because they find it unsexy and they would rather see the breasts without the baby attached. But I admit that it is possible that the men of my circles, who have been more sheltered than average, do find it a temptation to sin if there is any skin showing in that area.
That's why I don't show any. I have mercy on my weak brethren who have an issue with me doing something women have done since the dawn of time. Women in earlier generations didn't have to deal with this, and women in other cultures don't have to deal with this, but our present culture isn't really used to breastfeeding and has made a connection between sex and breasts that isn't quite the norm. So I cave to cultural pressure, because I choose to make things easier for anyone who may be tempted to sin, and I honestly don't want those around me to feel uncomfortable or awkward.
However -- I see this as my choice. My choice to be charitable to those around me. Not some strange man's decision about what is and isn't appropriate for the women around him to do. Just like it is a man's choice, when he sees something he'd rather not, to look or not to look -- to lust or not to lust. (Keep in mind: anything that is sinful is a free-will decision. If I could force him into lusting, he would not be responsible and has not sinned. If he sins, that is because he gives into temptation instead of looking away.) I don't want to tempt anyone to sin. But, on the one hand, I think it is unlikely that he should be tempted, and on the other hand, I do have to feed my child. I do it in the most modest way I reasonably can -- I'm not deliberately presenting a stumbling block to anyone. Any temptation he experiences is not willed by me. If I went out in a bikini in the hopes of attracting attention, I could see being in some way culpable for the sins of others. But if I feed my baby, minding my own business, and without attempting to call attention to any bare skin I'm showing, I don't think anyone has the right to tell me I may not.
This is a complicated issue. I realize that. But I keep seeing time and time again, various sources -- mostly patriarchal Protestant ones, but Catholic ones too -- that suggest that anything a man thinks about a woman is her fault. She must dress in a certain kind of attire, specified by men, which usually includes skirts, long sleeves, and shapelessness. And if she doesn't do this, and receives harassment, negative attention, or even a rape -- that is HER fault. Men can't help their reaction to women's bodies. Only women can prevent men from lusting.
Obviously, that's simply not true. Men control their actions. If they can't control their actions, they shouldn't go out in public. Women have the right to be treated with respect, even if they don't act appropriately, because they still have human dignity.
Meanwhile, I think a woman's responsibility -- her personal responsibility -- ends with doing what is reasonable. She should dress modestly by not choosing clothing that is intended to incite lust in men, and by taking reasonable precautions to prevent wardrobe malfunctions. We might disagree about where the line is drawn -- I think that it is not reasonable for a mother to have to restrict when, where, and how she feeds her child. But, in the face of this disagreement, I think it's the woman who makes the call. It is, in the final estimate, her body we're talking about. And it is not the right of anyone who is not her to tell her what lengths she has to go to to avoid tempting others.
As a culture, we've decided to give up some of our rights, like the right to wander around naked. We decided there was a very basic limit we wouldn't go past. So we have indecent exposure laws. We also decided that, for the good of nursing babies, breastfeeding is not in any way indecent exposure -- regardless of how it is done or how much shows! You can't be persecuted for nursing in this country.
I think the law is reasonable. We have a very basic limit, and beyond that, it's up to everyone's comfort level and sense of courtesy. Some people have a very easy time nursing without offending anyone, and so they do. Some having a very difficult time nursing without kind of a lot showing ... so they weigh their options and decide that their baby's hungry tummy is more important than some strangers' discomfort. So they do that. No one else is really qualified to make that judgment call than her, because no one else is in her situation.
And ... let me say it again ... it is her body. I know Catholics don't like this phrase because it's a catchphrase for abortion: "her body, her choice." But the reason it's fallacious is because her baby's body should be her baby's choice -- not because bodily autonomy is a bad thing. I'm a strong believer in bodily autonomy, which is why I'm against circumcision or even ear piercing being done to my babies. I believe that they should undergo these procedures when they decide they want them -- not when I decide.
I also believe that a person has the choice what medical procedures they undergo when they are an adult. If they don't want some supposedly lifesaving treatment, they can refuse, even if it means they will die. This is a right defended by Catholic teaching. We are not permitted to take our own lives or mutilate our bodies, but we do have the right to refuse any and every treatment we want.
That means a woman who is giving birth may give birth where and with whom she wishes. I am downright tired of arguments that women couldn't possibly be making an informed choice when they choose homebirth. They are. I believe that a woman has the right to give birth in her bedroom by herself, or in an operating theater with twelve doctors on hand. When the Mississippi personhood law was coming up for a vote, I heard a lot of arguments that women would be forced into c-sections or bedrest or other treatments they didn't consent to, for the sake of their baby. A good understanding of bodily autonomy should tell you that you can't force a person to consent to surgery, even to save someone else's life. You can prevent them from taking someone else's life, but you can't force them to save it at risk to themselves. (In any event, as the parent of the baby they're carrying, they also have the right to make medical decisions for the baby.) Any law, court order, or doctor who tries to force a woman to consent to medical intervention for the sake of her baby is wrong. That is injustice.
And that means a woman can wear what she wants. As a Catholic, I have the responsibility not to tempt others into sin. However, that is my responsibility. No one else can force me into complying. And when I weigh that responsibility with the responsibility to feed my child, I came up with the solution that I use. Others come up with other solutions.
And for some man that I don't know to waltz into a public forum and say, "Oh, I think it's great that you want to nurse your baby, just do it the way I say or you are [a sinner, rude, flagrantly immodest, undeserving of respect -- choose one or many]" -- well, I personally find that pretty rich. Especially when I have sweet, loving friends with no desire to tempt anyone or shock anyone, who don't obey the "rules" someone else has laid out, who are being called all these names. This, by the way, does cause a lot of women to quit when they didn't want to. That brings out my inner Warrior Princess. It's not a pretty sight.
First off, there's this nurse-in at Target. Here's the story: a woman was in Target when her baby got hungry. She went off to an abandoned spot, sat down on the floor half shielded by a jeans display, and threw a blanket over her baby to nurse him. A store employee showed up and told her she should move to the changing room, or else be more discreet. Several other employees stood around, giving her mean looks and talking about her in front of her.
The law is on the mom's side here, so she went to the manager. And the manager told her that Target's policy is different from the law (what?!) and so they didn't have to abide by it.
Now there's been a big protest where women are coming in and nursing in Target. The larger organization claims they don't mind, because the store policy actually is fine with nursing in the store. So perhaps this was just an issue with this one particular outlet.
Now I, being an idiot, went and read a whole bunch of comments on the issue. They actually weren't (mostly) that bad. But almost every comment said something like this: "I don't mind if moms nurse in public. So long as they are discreet/use a blanket/use a nursing cover/go to the dressing room, I think they should be allowed to."
It's just -- who made YOU the decision-maker about when and how someone else is "allowed" to feed her baby?
I prefer to nurse with no cover (because those things are a huge hassle, draw attention, and you can't really see what you're doing, despite the advertising) but without showing anything anyone would object to. Took me awhile to get the knack, and it takes wearing two shirts. But I'm lucky because of my build. A heavier woman might not be able to manage what I do. Does that mean she can't feed her baby in public?
Here's how I managed it, back in the day. I don't think anyone would call this immodest.
The other big one -- really big -- was that stupid Facebook debate. I say it's over now because I've dropped out of it, but I believe the instigators are still hanging around saying nasty things about me. I realized I have the choice what I read, and I do not choose to read personal attacks on me. I also have the choice of where to comment, and that thread is not going to go anywhere good.
Anyway, it started with one person proclaiming as her status that she can't stand it when women post pictures of themselves nursing in a way that she doesn't consider "modest." She said that these women have no respect for themselves, so they shouldn't expect anyone else to respect them either.
Okay, so I don't post that kind of picture. The update was not directed at me. I have posted one picture of myself nursing on Facebook, and I doubt she ever realized that was what I was doing. And yet I still took it personally. If I should happen to feel very proud of my breastfeeding successes -- which I am -- and, in a moment of happiness, post a picture that doesn't match someone else's standards, why does that mean I've forfeited any right to the respect of others?
We went back and forth and back and forth over it. How modest does a woman have to be? How far do her rights go before they trample on someone else's rights? Is a blanket good enough? Or do we have to be so "discreet" that no one can tell we're nursing at all?
Now, we're a bunch of Catholics having this conversation. We value modesty because we don't want to tempt anyone into sin. I personally think it is very uncommon for men to be tempted into sin by the sight of a woman nursing. Secular conversations on this issue convince me of this: the men don't want to see it, not because they find the sight "sexy," but because they find it unsexy and they would rather see the breasts without the baby attached. But I admit that it is possible that the men of my circles, who have been more sheltered than average, do find it a temptation to sin if there is any skin showing in that area.
That's why I don't show any. I have mercy on my weak brethren who have an issue with me doing something women have done since the dawn of time. Women in earlier generations didn't have to deal with this, and women in other cultures don't have to deal with this, but our present culture isn't really used to breastfeeding and has made a connection between sex and breasts that isn't quite the norm. So I cave to cultural pressure, because I choose to make things easier for anyone who may be tempted to sin, and I honestly don't want those around me to feel uncomfortable or awkward.
However -- I see this as my choice. My choice to be charitable to those around me. Not some strange man's decision about what is and isn't appropriate for the women around him to do. Just like it is a man's choice, when he sees something he'd rather not, to look or not to look -- to lust or not to lust. (Keep in mind: anything that is sinful is a free-will decision. If I could force him into lusting, he would not be responsible and has not sinned. If he sins, that is because he gives into temptation instead of looking away.) I don't want to tempt anyone to sin. But, on the one hand, I think it is unlikely that he should be tempted, and on the other hand, I do have to feed my child. I do it in the most modest way I reasonably can -- I'm not deliberately presenting a stumbling block to anyone. Any temptation he experiences is not willed by me. If I went out in a bikini in the hopes of attracting attention, I could see being in some way culpable for the sins of others. But if I feed my baby, minding my own business, and without attempting to call attention to any bare skin I'm showing, I don't think anyone has the right to tell me I may not.
This is a complicated issue. I realize that. But I keep seeing time and time again, various sources -- mostly patriarchal Protestant ones, but Catholic ones too -- that suggest that anything a man thinks about a woman is her fault. She must dress in a certain kind of attire, specified by men, which usually includes skirts, long sleeves, and shapelessness. And if she doesn't do this, and receives harassment, negative attention, or even a rape -- that is HER fault. Men can't help their reaction to women's bodies. Only women can prevent men from lusting.
Obviously, that's simply not true. Men control their actions. If they can't control their actions, they shouldn't go out in public. Women have the right to be treated with respect, even if they don't act appropriately, because they still have human dignity.
Meanwhile, I think a woman's responsibility -- her personal responsibility -- ends with doing what is reasonable. She should dress modestly by not choosing clothing that is intended to incite lust in men, and by taking reasonable precautions to prevent wardrobe malfunctions. We might disagree about where the line is drawn -- I think that it is not reasonable for a mother to have to restrict when, where, and how she feeds her child. But, in the face of this disagreement, I think it's the woman who makes the call. It is, in the final estimate, her body we're talking about. And it is not the right of anyone who is not her to tell her what lengths she has to go to to avoid tempting others.
As a culture, we've decided to give up some of our rights, like the right to wander around naked. We decided there was a very basic limit we wouldn't go past. So we have indecent exposure laws. We also decided that, for the good of nursing babies, breastfeeding is not in any way indecent exposure -- regardless of how it is done or how much shows! You can't be persecuted for nursing in this country.
I think the law is reasonable. We have a very basic limit, and beyond that, it's up to everyone's comfort level and sense of courtesy. Some people have a very easy time nursing without offending anyone, and so they do. Some having a very difficult time nursing without kind of a lot showing ... so they weigh their options and decide that their baby's hungry tummy is more important than some strangers' discomfort. So they do that. No one else is really qualified to make that judgment call than her, because no one else is in her situation.
And ... let me say it again ... it is her body. I know Catholics don't like this phrase because it's a catchphrase for abortion: "her body, her choice." But the reason it's fallacious is because her baby's body should be her baby's choice -- not because bodily autonomy is a bad thing. I'm a strong believer in bodily autonomy, which is why I'm against circumcision or even ear piercing being done to my babies. I believe that they should undergo these procedures when they decide they want them -- not when I decide.
I also believe that a person has the choice what medical procedures they undergo when they are an adult. If they don't want some supposedly lifesaving treatment, they can refuse, even if it means they will die. This is a right defended by Catholic teaching. We are not permitted to take our own lives or mutilate our bodies, but we do have the right to refuse any and every treatment we want.
That means a woman who is giving birth may give birth where and with whom she wishes. I am downright tired of arguments that women couldn't possibly be making an informed choice when they choose homebirth. They are. I believe that a woman has the right to give birth in her bedroom by herself, or in an operating theater with twelve doctors on hand. When the Mississippi personhood law was coming up for a vote, I heard a lot of arguments that women would be forced into c-sections or bedrest or other treatments they didn't consent to, for the sake of their baby. A good understanding of bodily autonomy should tell you that you can't force a person to consent to surgery, even to save someone else's life. You can prevent them from taking someone else's life, but you can't force them to save it at risk to themselves. (In any event, as the parent of the baby they're carrying, they also have the right to make medical decisions for the baby.) Any law, court order, or doctor who tries to force a woman to consent to medical intervention for the sake of her baby is wrong. That is injustice.
And that means a woman can wear what she wants. As a Catholic, I have the responsibility not to tempt others into sin. However, that is my responsibility. No one else can force me into complying. And when I weigh that responsibility with the responsibility to feed my child, I came up with the solution that I use. Others come up with other solutions.
And for some man that I don't know to waltz into a public forum and say, "Oh, I think it's great that you want to nurse your baby, just do it the way I say or you are [a sinner, rude, flagrantly immodest, undeserving of respect -- choose one or many]" -- well, I personally find that pretty rich. Especially when I have sweet, loving friends with no desire to tempt anyone or shock anyone, who don't obey the "rules" someone else has laid out, who are being called all these names. This, by the way, does cause a lot of women to quit when they didn't want to. That brings out my inner Warrior Princess. It's not a pretty sight.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Why so anti-child?
Lately it seems like I can't turn around without hearing something about how awful it is for people without kids to have to go out in public and see kids there. Especially when they're doing things that kids do, like crying, nursing, moving around, making noise, or sometimes misbehaving.
Of course these people don't consider themselves to be anti-child. On the contrary, they love kids! It's just the badly-behaved kids, which their own children or nieces and nephews never were. They blame the parents. What were parents doing bringing their children into a church or a restaurant or on a plane? They should have known it would end in disaster. Or else the problem is that they're not "dealing with it" in the way the commenter thinks it should be dealt with. Parents nowadays don't discipline their children, etc. etc. etc.
Here's a few quotes that I've run across in the past week. Each was in a public forum that got plenty of responses, so don't worry that these stood on their own without someone to tell them they were wrong.
This one is from Catholic Answers Forums:
It amazes me that almost every week there is someone in the church who will allow their small children to scream and cry during a large portion the Mass. Just for once, I would like to see the priest give pause, look in the direction of the noise and wait until the offending parent gets the hint and removes the little darling to the back of church so others aren't disturbed. What ever happend to the quiet reverence?
Well, I attend a church where they do just this. Of course the parents live in fear that they will be the recipient of the priestly glare, so they don't go into the church at all, but stay packed in like sardines in the uncomfortable vestibule, unable to hear much, while the children are learning nothing about proper church behavior because there isn't so much as a chair for them to sit in. I sometimes end up stuck back here holding my son (because there is no other option; if I put him down he'd vanish in the crowd) for the whole hour. When I leave the church, my back is killing me and I can barely walk.
For Christmas, we went to a different parish. I stayed in the pew the whole time, and John was in the vestibule with Marko for part. It was amazing to actually get to participate in the Mass, and to have a place to sit. For once, it didn't feel like a cross, but was actually feeding my soul.
Oh, but parents shouldn't get their souls fed, of course. Parenting involves sacrifice, gosh darn it, and just sitting in a pew entertaining a child isn't sacrificial enough. Meanwhile, hearing a peep out of a baby is too much sacrifice for a childless person, because they never volunteered for the job.
Of course, most of the comments were along the lines of, "Well, of course kids should be welcome in church, but parents shouldn't just let them scream and scream during the whole service." I suppose this is true, but for one thing, I've never seen this happen. Ever. And for another, that's the parents' job, not yours. Parents should do their best, and YOU, person who doesn't like to hear crying, should suck it up and assume that they are. Not try to get your priest to glare more. Not catch the parents after Mass and berate them. Not be a snot on an internet forum. Assume they are doing their best, sit near the front, and tune out the noises that distract you.
Here are some gems from the comments on an article about kids on planes and in restaurants:
I blame parents for the behavior of children ANYWHERE. If they are energetic and loud and can't sit quietly on a plane - don't take them on a plane to annoy others - or anywhere! If your baby cries a lot - don't take them on the plane, movie theater, or anywhere else the noise is going to interfere with others enjoyment. If you were driving for hours in a closed car, how would you feel with all that? Where is personal responsibility? I have two adult kids. When they were young and their behavior was unacceptable I would sit with then in the car until they quieted down. I would not ruin others' days out by making them suffer through my children's behavior. If you decided to be a parent then you must adjust your behavior and expectations. You are no longer free to just go out like you did before you were a parent.Surely I'm not the only person who is upset and offended by this? You can plan ahead, you can make decisions based on the way your child usually behaves, you can pack toys, you can have a relatively well-disciplined child, and there may still sometimes be a meltdown. That's life. Children are part of society just like everyone else... why aren't people a little bit used to them by now?
But no, the solutions are "well, you have kids now, you can't go out," "just sedate them," and "my rights trump their rights."
Just once, I would like to see someone say, "Gee, this isn't convenient for me, but it's not convenient for the mom and dad either. We're all suffering together, and they have the right to be here like I do. I guess I'll just be thankful that when this is over, I get to go to my quiet house and sleep through the night." Actually, before I had kids I would think just that. When I heard a baby cry on a plane, I thought, "That poor mom! She must be mortified! Thank goodness it's not my kid and no one's expecting me to do anything about it." Even then I was aware that just hearing a child cry was the easy part.
And then there's the good ol' nursing in public debate. I don't know why I get involved in these. I guess it's because I am aware of their effects on moms. When you're a jerk about breastfeeding in a public forum, all of a sudden the nursing moms who read it think, "Is that how everyone feels about me? Are they all judging me?" And even though the mom reading it probably is draped in the world's biggest breastfeeding burka/circus tent, she still feels like everyone is staring at her thinking all those mean things they read on the internet. I remember feeling this way. SO self-conscious, even though nothing anyone could possibly complain about was showing.
Here are a few excerpts from the Facebook debate I was recently in:
But let us not deny the needs of the child; evidently you're going to get a lacrobat when nursing him in public. A mother who can't deprive of socialization for 15 minutes to spend quiet time with her baby, and allow the baby to eat comfortably and be focused on the mother, is very, very sad.
*
My response towards mothers who don't have adult conversation or tired husbands- this job you signed up for is one of sacrifice, these children you choose to accept, this husband who works long hours- this is what the better or worse part is. But to those women, I do not pity you. This is the road you choose and with the joys come the pain.
*
It is true, you will not find mention of nursing in the past - but it is not because no one had a problem with it. It was because women had a better understanding of their place in society and their dignity. It was never discussed, because it never came up. Culture today has been severely impacted by the inhumanity of socialism and their pragmatic creed of 'it it needs to be done, do it'.
Again, the message is clear: You, mother, need to sacrifice so that I don't have to deal with the reality that you are caring for a child. And I will call that "sacrificing for your child" even though what I'm asking is that you sacrifice for my comfort. But since you're a parent, you have to love sacrificing, no matter the reason, because otherwise you're a terrible parent. I don't owe you any sympathy because I never asked you to have kids.
Oh, and "back in the day" (I have no idea what day we were speaking of at this point; probably the Middle Ages, because I had claimed, I believe correctly, that women nursed all the time wherever they happened to be and no one said a word about it. My interlocutor claims that women in those days knew their place and must not have nursed in public after all ... at least, I think that's what he was implying) this question never came up because, in the midst of struggling for survival through cold winters and famine and plague, people were worrying more about beauty and dignity than about what "needs to be done."
In this, and in so many other online discussions, I feel myself being a target for others' hatred of children. Sure, my child is usually quiet in public. I've flown on planes with him, and he slept. When he makes noise, we take him out of church. And when I nursed him in public, I'm pretty sure no one ever saw anything. But you attack any mother, I feel you are attacking me too. You're saying that any support or acceptance I receive from society is dependent on my making the parenting choices that you believe I should make.
I don't mind my family and friends telling me how they think I should do things, because they do have a role in my parenting. They help. They support. They listen. They do their share. So I think they have a right to their opinion, though I may disagree. But strangers who have never burped my baby or played with my toddler -- or even laughed it off when he annoyed them -- have no right to tell me how I should do things. Either you have some interest in my child or you don't. If you're not willing to help out, I don't really want to hear your opinion.
Am I the only one who's been running into this nasty attitude, or is it everywhere nowadays?
Of course these people don't consider themselves to be anti-child. On the contrary, they love kids! It's just the badly-behaved kids, which their own children or nieces and nephews never were. They blame the parents. What were parents doing bringing their children into a church or a restaurant or on a plane? They should have known it would end in disaster. Or else the problem is that they're not "dealing with it" in the way the commenter thinks it should be dealt with. Parents nowadays don't discipline their children, etc. etc. etc.
Here's a few quotes that I've run across in the past week. Each was in a public forum that got plenty of responses, so don't worry that these stood on their own without someone to tell them they were wrong.
This one is from Catholic Answers Forums:
It amazes me that almost every week there is someone in the church who will allow their small children to scream and cry during a large portion the Mass. Just for once, I would like to see the priest give pause, look in the direction of the noise and wait until the offending parent gets the hint and removes the little darling to the back of church so others aren't disturbed. What ever happend to the quiet reverence?
Well, I attend a church where they do just this. Of course the parents live in fear that they will be the recipient of the priestly glare, so they don't go into the church at all, but stay packed in like sardines in the uncomfortable vestibule, unable to hear much, while the children are learning nothing about proper church behavior because there isn't so much as a chair for them to sit in. I sometimes end up stuck back here holding my son (because there is no other option; if I put him down he'd vanish in the crowd) for the whole hour. When I leave the church, my back is killing me and I can barely walk.
For Christmas, we went to a different parish. I stayed in the pew the whole time, and John was in the vestibule with Marko for part. It was amazing to actually get to participate in the Mass, and to have a place to sit. For once, it didn't feel like a cross, but was actually feeding my soul.
Oh, but parents shouldn't get their souls fed, of course. Parenting involves sacrifice, gosh darn it, and just sitting in a pew entertaining a child isn't sacrificial enough. Meanwhile, hearing a peep out of a baby is too much sacrifice for a childless person, because they never volunteered for the job.
Of course, most of the comments were along the lines of, "Well, of course kids should be welcome in church, but parents shouldn't just let them scream and scream during the whole service." I suppose this is true, but for one thing, I've never seen this happen. Ever. And for another, that's the parents' job, not yours. Parents should do their best, and YOU, person who doesn't like to hear crying, should suck it up and assume that they are. Not try to get your priest to glare more. Not catch the parents after Mass and berate them. Not be a snot on an internet forum. Assume they are doing their best, sit near the front, and tune out the noises that distract you.
Here are some gems from the comments on an article about kids on planes and in restaurants:
I blame parents for the behavior of children ANYWHERE. If they are energetic and loud and can't sit quietly on a plane - don't take them on a plane to annoy others - or anywhere! If your baby cries a lot - don't take them on the plane, movie theater, or anywhere else the noise is going to interfere with others enjoyment. If you were driving for hours in a closed car, how would you feel with all that? Where is personal responsibility? I have two adult kids. When they were young and their behavior was unacceptable I would sit with then in the car until they quieted down. I would not ruin others' days out by making them suffer through my children's behavior. If you decided to be a parent then you must adjust your behavior and expectations. You are no longer free to just go out like you did before you were a parent.Surely I'm not the only person who is upset and offended by this? You can plan ahead, you can make decisions based on the way your child usually behaves, you can pack toys, you can have a relatively well-disciplined child, and there may still sometimes be a meltdown. That's life. Children are part of society just like everyone else... why aren't people a little bit used to them by now?
But no, the solutions are "well, you have kids now, you can't go out," "just sedate them," and "my rights trump their rights."
Just once, I would like to see someone say, "Gee, this isn't convenient for me, but it's not convenient for the mom and dad either. We're all suffering together, and they have the right to be here like I do. I guess I'll just be thankful that when this is over, I get to go to my quiet house and sleep through the night." Actually, before I had kids I would think just that. When I heard a baby cry on a plane, I thought, "That poor mom! She must be mortified! Thank goodness it's not my kid and no one's expecting me to do anything about it." Even then I was aware that just hearing a child cry was the easy part.
And then there's the good ol' nursing in public debate. I don't know why I get involved in these. I guess it's because I am aware of their effects on moms. When you're a jerk about breastfeeding in a public forum, all of a sudden the nursing moms who read it think, "Is that how everyone feels about me? Are they all judging me?" And even though the mom reading it probably is draped in the world's biggest breastfeeding burka/circus tent, she still feels like everyone is staring at her thinking all those mean things they read on the internet. I remember feeling this way. SO self-conscious, even though nothing anyone could possibly complain about was showing.
Here are a few excerpts from the Facebook debate I was recently in:
But let us not deny the needs of the child; evidently you're going to get a lacrobat when nursing him in public. A mother who can't deprive of socialization for 15 minutes to spend quiet time with her baby, and allow the baby to eat comfortably and be focused on the mother, is very, very sad.
*
My response towards mothers who don't have adult conversation or tired husbands- this job you signed up for is one of sacrifice, these children you choose to accept, this husband who works long hours- this is what the better or worse part is. But to those women, I do not pity you. This is the road you choose and with the joys come the pain.
*
It is true, you will not find mention of nursing in the past - but it is not because no one had a problem with it. It was because women had a better understanding of their place in society and their dignity. It was never discussed, because it never came up. Culture today has been severely impacted by the inhumanity of socialism and their pragmatic creed of 'it it needs to be done, do it'.
Again, the message is clear: You, mother, need to sacrifice so that I don't have to deal with the reality that you are caring for a child. And I will call that "sacrificing for your child" even though what I'm asking is that you sacrifice for my comfort. But since you're a parent, you have to love sacrificing, no matter the reason, because otherwise you're a terrible parent. I don't owe you any sympathy because I never asked you to have kids.
Oh, and "back in the day" (I have no idea what day we were speaking of at this point; probably the Middle Ages, because I had claimed, I believe correctly, that women nursed all the time wherever they happened to be and no one said a word about it. My interlocutor claims that women in those days knew their place and must not have nursed in public after all ... at least, I think that's what he was implying) this question never came up because, in the midst of struggling for survival through cold winters and famine and plague, people were worrying more about beauty and dignity than about what "needs to be done."
In this, and in so many other online discussions, I feel myself being a target for others' hatred of children. Sure, my child is usually quiet in public. I've flown on planes with him, and he slept. When he makes noise, we take him out of church. And when I nursed him in public, I'm pretty sure no one ever saw anything. But you attack any mother, I feel you are attacking me too. You're saying that any support or acceptance I receive from society is dependent on my making the parenting choices that you believe I should make.
I don't mind my family and friends telling me how they think I should do things, because they do have a role in my parenting. They help. They support. They listen. They do their share. So I think they have a right to their opinion, though I may disagree. But strangers who have never burped my baby or played with my toddler -- or even laughed it off when he annoyed them -- have no right to tell me how I should do things. Either you have some interest in my child or you don't. If you're not willing to help out, I don't really want to hear your opinion.
Am I the only one who's been running into this nasty attitude, or is it everywhere nowadays?
Sunday, December 25, 2011
A Christmas Meditation
This is my imagining of Christmas, which I dreamed up around 5 a.m. this morning when I couldn't get back to sleep. It probably wasn't anything like this, but I did find it nice to imagine what it must have been like for Mary.
Catholic tradition often portrays Joseph as an old man who had been married before. I usually imagine him in his late 20's or early 30's. No one knows for sure, but that's how I was brought up imagining him.
I personally think Mary may well have had a painless birth. Catholic tradition suggests that she did, because she had no original sin, but some think she didn't because she did suffer some of the other effects of original sin. I tend to think that if hundreds of women using Hypnobabies or the Bradley method can have pain-free labors, Mary could too. I think it's original sin, and not just a crazy pelvis, that makes humans have so much harder labors than animals do -- our conscious mind interferes with our instincts, but our reason is overrun by our hormones, so that we tense up and get confused as to what we have to do next. I think Mary wouldn't have had that. But that's just my opinion.
I hope none of this seems terribly irreverent to anyone. This is just my imagination and it doesn't stop you from supposing things happened very differently.
* * *
Mary leaned on Joseph as they approached the cave and took a long slow breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. Joseph looked into her face, the concern visible in his face despite the fading twilight. "All this walking giving you more contractions?"
She nodded before starting to walk again. "Yes, but they aren't too strong. I'll sit down when we get there."
When they reached the warmth of the stable, though, she didn't feel much like sitting. Letting go of Joseph's arm, she walked past all the stalls toward the back corner of the cave, where there was an open area. The cows regarded her placidly as they chewed their cud, their breath making warm trails of smoke.
Finding a tattered broom leaning against the wall, she set to sweeping the corner briskly. Joseph set his torch in a bracket on the wall and reached out to stop her. "Please, Mary. Let me do it. You need to rest." She relinquished the broom and tried to sit on a straw bale, but she soon felt restless again and was bringing straw to strew on the clean ground.
"It's all right," Joseph said again. "You don't have to do anything, it will all be done in a moment."
"I know, Joseph," she said slowly, "but I just want to get it done." Fetching a bucket from another corner, she filled it at the animals' drinking trough and brought it to their nest. Surveying the result, she sighed. "That's fine. We will be nice and comfortable tonight. It isn't a bit cold in here."
Joseph smiled wryly. It was a tiny bit of an exaggeration. But the warmth of the animals made it seem almost summery compared to the biting wind outside.
Mary tried to sit down again, this time in the comfortable bed of straw she had made, but another contraction tightened her belly and again she felt more like standing. This one lasted quite a bit longer, and she put a hand against the wall until it passed.
When she looked at Joseph again, his brow was knitted with concern. "I know you are near your time, Mary, but it would be so much better if the baby could hold off a little longer," he said. "In a few days maybe I will be able to find a room here, or at the very least, finish the census business and get back on our way. Surely there will be inns along the road that have room."
"He will come when he comes," Mary said calmly. At that moment, she felt at peace with whatever happened. There had been this great sense of urgency to get to Bethlehem first, to hold off labor, not to deliver too soon. But now that she was here, she didn't feel like it mattered much if she went into labor tonight, or in a few weeks back in Nazareth with her mother there to help her.
Joseph let out a worried sigh. "This is all my fault. If only we had left earlier, maybe we could have found some room. It's just our luck that the census is now. Any other time of my whole life would have been better."
Mary went to him and put her hand on his arm. "It's all right, Joseph. You did fine bringing us here, and everything else is out of our hands." She meant to say more but her belly tightened again, insistently. A long, slow breath felt better than talking. She shut her eyes.
When she opened them again, she knew Joseph knew it would be tonight. He took her hand in both of his. "Mary, I -- I have no idea what to do! Is it all right to leave you here? Should I go get someone? Perhaps there is someone at the inn ... at least some old woman who has had a few of her own ... but we have nothing to pay them. They took so much just for the stable!"
The baby within her gave her a little wiggle. So comforting to know he was all right. She smiled at Joseph. "I think I will be all right," she said quietly. "My mother told me what to expect. The poor have been having babies since Eve bore Cain, and we've been okay."
The helpless look on Joseph's face moved her to pity. "Here, Joseph, this is what we do first. We will walk up and down the stable. You take my arm. I will lean on you."
This simple instruction seemed to calm him a little, and they began to walk. At first, they stopped once on every trip down the barn, while Mary leaned on Joseph and breathed. Then they stopped twice, and then at every few stalls. Then she didn't feel like walking anymore, and they went to their straw-covered corner. Mary put both hands against the wall and leaned forward, telling Joseph to push against her back. It didn't feel necessary, but her mother had said this was something the midwife did, and it seemed to make Joseph happy to have something to do.
Time seemed to slow as she leaned against the wall. Belly tense -- breathe in, breathe out. Belly relax -- slump forward, breathe in, breathe out. The walls of the cave seemed to disappear, and it seemed she could see the stars wheeling overhead. Were there angels in the cave? There seemed an intense presence of many onlookers. When she hummed through the contractions, she thought she heard many voices join her. But she didn't feel shy or afraid -- they were breathing in and out with her, helping her baby move down. A few times Joseph tried to speak, to ask her questions, but she couldn't seem to answer. Shaking her head, she whispered, "Shhh. Shhh."
All at once, the strangeness in the room seemed to lift and she could see around her again. Her belly was tensing in a new way, pushing down, hard. It was time for the baby come out.
When the pressure eased, she moved to the very corner and knelt down on the straw. She whispered to Joseph, "Come here. Sit behind me." He moved to support her from behind, and she raised her knees into a squat. Leaning against his motionless bulk, she felt steadied and calm. She raised her robe above her knees and waited for the pressure to return.
When it came, it came in full force. There was nothing for it but to make a long, slow sound, a birth song for her baby. Her voice vibrated in a long, deep tone. The cows lowed in response. That seemed right. They knew how to bring a baby down.
Suddenly there was a splash in the straw. She reached down and felt the baby's head just beginning to emerge. There was fine hair on it, fine wet hair. It receded, and then as the pressure increased it came forward again. She resumed her birth song. For a moment it seemed again that there were angels, that they were joining her in the song.
A few more pushes and it was out, in her hands. She couldn't quite see, but she felt its roundness with both her hands. Then she felt it turn, and a moment later the whole baby shot out into her hands. Instinctively she raised him up against her. Joseph peered over her shoulder. "It's here! It's okay! It's alive!" His voice was charged with relief.
Tilting him away from her for a moment, Mary gazed at her son. His tiny dark eyes gazed back at her, barely visible in the torchlight. They were full of infinite wisdom. She couldn't look away, even though her vision was swimming with tears. Now she was positive she heard angels singing, but she couldn't tear her eyes off her beautiful son to see them.
Loosening her robe, she pulled it down over her shoulder and brought her infant to her breast. He snatched at it eagerly, rearing back and grabbing on. His eyes roved up toward hers, unfocused but deep. Mary's heart brimmed to overflowing as she watched her son drink her milk. It had seemed so incredible when the angel had said he would be the Son of God. But with him in her arms, it was impossible not to believe. The tiny, wrinkled body, its apparent frailty, was of no consequence -- his eyes made clear he had come straight from heaven. But when she tried to wrap her head around the notion of such immense power clothed in such fragile weakness, of a being that had created her now relying on her milk to live, it simply failed. There was no understanding this. But her heart was full, and she did not need to understand.
She tore her eyes from the baby and turned her head around to Joseph. He was smiling at her, and his eyes, too, were filled with tears. Half afraid to break the silence, she whispered to him, "We will call him Jesus."
* * *
Catholic tradition often portrays Joseph as an old man who had been married before. I usually imagine him in his late 20's or early 30's. No one knows for sure, but that's how I was brought up imagining him.
I personally think Mary may well have had a painless birth. Catholic tradition suggests that she did, because she had no original sin, but some think she didn't because she did suffer some of the other effects of original sin. I tend to think that if hundreds of women using Hypnobabies or the Bradley method can have pain-free labors, Mary could too. I think it's original sin, and not just a crazy pelvis, that makes humans have so much harder labors than animals do -- our conscious mind interferes with our instincts, but our reason is overrun by our hormones, so that we tense up and get confused as to what we have to do next. I think Mary wouldn't have had that. But that's just my opinion.
I hope none of this seems terribly irreverent to anyone. This is just my imagination and it doesn't stop you from supposing things happened very differently.
* * *
Mary leaned on Joseph as they approached the cave and took a long slow breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. Joseph looked into her face, the concern visible in his face despite the fading twilight. "All this walking giving you more contractions?"
She nodded before starting to walk again. "Yes, but they aren't too strong. I'll sit down when we get there."
When they reached the warmth of the stable, though, she didn't feel much like sitting. Letting go of Joseph's arm, she walked past all the stalls toward the back corner of the cave, where there was an open area. The cows regarded her placidly as they chewed their cud, their breath making warm trails of smoke.
Finding a tattered broom leaning against the wall, she set to sweeping the corner briskly. Joseph set his torch in a bracket on the wall and reached out to stop her. "Please, Mary. Let me do it. You need to rest." She relinquished the broom and tried to sit on a straw bale, but she soon felt restless again and was bringing straw to strew on the clean ground.
"It's all right," Joseph said again. "You don't have to do anything, it will all be done in a moment."
"I know, Joseph," she said slowly, "but I just want to get it done." Fetching a bucket from another corner, she filled it at the animals' drinking trough and brought it to their nest. Surveying the result, she sighed. "That's fine. We will be nice and comfortable tonight. It isn't a bit cold in here."
Joseph smiled wryly. It was a tiny bit of an exaggeration. But the warmth of the animals made it seem almost summery compared to the biting wind outside.
Mary tried to sit down again, this time in the comfortable bed of straw she had made, but another contraction tightened her belly and again she felt more like standing. This one lasted quite a bit longer, and she put a hand against the wall until it passed.
When she looked at Joseph again, his brow was knitted with concern. "I know you are near your time, Mary, but it would be so much better if the baby could hold off a little longer," he said. "In a few days maybe I will be able to find a room here, or at the very least, finish the census business and get back on our way. Surely there will be inns along the road that have room."
"He will come when he comes," Mary said calmly. At that moment, she felt at peace with whatever happened. There had been this great sense of urgency to get to Bethlehem first, to hold off labor, not to deliver too soon. But now that she was here, she didn't feel like it mattered much if she went into labor tonight, or in a few weeks back in Nazareth with her mother there to help her.
Joseph let out a worried sigh. "This is all my fault. If only we had left earlier, maybe we could have found some room. It's just our luck that the census is now. Any other time of my whole life would have been better."
Mary went to him and put her hand on his arm. "It's all right, Joseph. You did fine bringing us here, and everything else is out of our hands." She meant to say more but her belly tightened again, insistently. A long, slow breath felt better than talking. She shut her eyes.
When she opened them again, she knew Joseph knew it would be tonight. He took her hand in both of his. "Mary, I -- I have no idea what to do! Is it all right to leave you here? Should I go get someone? Perhaps there is someone at the inn ... at least some old woman who has had a few of her own ... but we have nothing to pay them. They took so much just for the stable!"
The baby within her gave her a little wiggle. So comforting to know he was all right. She smiled at Joseph. "I think I will be all right," she said quietly. "My mother told me what to expect. The poor have been having babies since Eve bore Cain, and we've been okay."
The helpless look on Joseph's face moved her to pity. "Here, Joseph, this is what we do first. We will walk up and down the stable. You take my arm. I will lean on you."
This simple instruction seemed to calm him a little, and they began to walk. At first, they stopped once on every trip down the barn, while Mary leaned on Joseph and breathed. Then they stopped twice, and then at every few stalls. Then she didn't feel like walking anymore, and they went to their straw-covered corner. Mary put both hands against the wall and leaned forward, telling Joseph to push against her back. It didn't feel necessary, but her mother had said this was something the midwife did, and it seemed to make Joseph happy to have something to do.
Time seemed to slow as she leaned against the wall. Belly tense -- breathe in, breathe out. Belly relax -- slump forward, breathe in, breathe out. The walls of the cave seemed to disappear, and it seemed she could see the stars wheeling overhead. Were there angels in the cave? There seemed an intense presence of many onlookers. When she hummed through the contractions, she thought she heard many voices join her. But she didn't feel shy or afraid -- they were breathing in and out with her, helping her baby move down. A few times Joseph tried to speak, to ask her questions, but she couldn't seem to answer. Shaking her head, she whispered, "Shhh. Shhh."
All at once, the strangeness in the room seemed to lift and she could see around her again. Her belly was tensing in a new way, pushing down, hard. It was time for the baby come out.
When the pressure eased, she moved to the very corner and knelt down on the straw. She whispered to Joseph, "Come here. Sit behind me." He moved to support her from behind, and she raised her knees into a squat. Leaning against his motionless bulk, she felt steadied and calm. She raised her robe above her knees and waited for the pressure to return.
When it came, it came in full force. There was nothing for it but to make a long, slow sound, a birth song for her baby. Her voice vibrated in a long, deep tone. The cows lowed in response. That seemed right. They knew how to bring a baby down.
Suddenly there was a splash in the straw. She reached down and felt the baby's head just beginning to emerge. There was fine hair on it, fine wet hair. It receded, and then as the pressure increased it came forward again. She resumed her birth song. For a moment it seemed again that there were angels, that they were joining her in the song.
A few more pushes and it was out, in her hands. She couldn't quite see, but she felt its roundness with both her hands. Then she felt it turn, and a moment later the whole baby shot out into her hands. Instinctively she raised him up against her. Joseph peered over her shoulder. "It's here! It's okay! It's alive!" His voice was charged with relief.
Tilting him away from her for a moment, Mary gazed at her son. His tiny dark eyes gazed back at her, barely visible in the torchlight. They were full of infinite wisdom. She couldn't look away, even though her vision was swimming with tears. Now she was positive she heard angels singing, but she couldn't tear her eyes off her beautiful son to see them.
Loosening her robe, she pulled it down over her shoulder and brought her infant to her breast. He snatched at it eagerly, rearing back and grabbing on. His eyes roved up toward hers, unfocused but deep. Mary's heart brimmed to overflowing as she watched her son drink her milk. It had seemed so incredible when the angel had said he would be the Son of God. But with him in her arms, it was impossible not to believe. The tiny, wrinkled body, its apparent frailty, was of no consequence -- his eyes made clear he had come straight from heaven. But when she tried to wrap her head around the notion of such immense power clothed in such fragile weakness, of a being that had created her now relying on her milk to live, it simply failed. There was no understanding this. But her heart was full, and she did not need to understand.
She tore her eyes from the baby and turned her head around to Joseph. He was smiling at her, and his eyes, too, were filled with tears. Half afraid to break the silence, she whispered to him, "We will call him Jesus."
* * *
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Mama's got separation anxiety
I have, a handful of times, left Marko with his dad. For a few hours. When he was two months old, I left him at home for one hour while I went two blocks away to get my hair cut. The whole time I clutched my phone in my hand waiting for a text saying he needed me so I could rush out the door with my hair half cut and love on my baby. But when I got home, he was sitting in his bouncer exactly where I'd left him, and John told me he hadn't noticed I was gone.
Since then, I've occasionally left him while I went shopping (he likes shopping, but doesn't care for the driving part) or to go to some brief event or other. Each time, Marko doesn't care a whole lot, and I fall all to pieces.
Now that he's a toddler, he does have some separation anxiety. Whether I'm the one who leaves, or Daddy is, he cries for awhile. John maintains he cries a bit longer when it's me. There isn't a huge difference, though, so I don't feel I'm neglecting him when I leave him with Daddy any more than John is neglecting him when he goes to work. He's still with a parent, he's pretty happy, no biggie.
Last weekend I agreed to go to a Christmas party (the same one I went to last year and had so many adventures on the way). It was going to be quite a drive now that we live so far out. But I said I would go, because I had a good time last year and wanted to see those people again.
But Marko was having a rough day. It had been busy and I'd already had to go shopping without him. When I told him I was going to leave to go to a party, he flipped. He was running around crying "No Mama go! No Mama leaving!" and quite disconsolate. I scooped him up onto my lap and just held him for a minute. He snuggled into me and I nuzzled his neck. (Mmm, so nice.) And all I could think was, "Why the heck do I want to go anywhere but here? What possible fun could I have elsewhere to equal toddler snuggles?" But I had already promised to go.
Once he was calm, I got him reading a story with Daddy and left the house. When I shut the door behind me, he started wailing again. My heart broke into two big pieces. I couldn't even walk away. So I stood there listening to the crying through the door for about a minute, and then I heard him quiet down so I knew he was going to be okay. And I left.
The whole dang way there I was feeling incredibly mopey. All I wanted was my baby and my hubby. I tried to console myself with the thought that I had one baby I couldn't leave anywhere yet, but it wasn't good enough. I wanted our family to be together. I didn't want to go anywhere without all of us.
The party was fun, I guess. I felt all adult tromping around from my parking spot to the party in my nice clothes. But it just felt off to me. I don't see myself as a cool single woman. I am not sure I ever was one. Once I reached the party, I had fun talking to everyone, though it was weird being the only married woman or mom there. I told one woman my opinions on childbirth! Shows how out of touch I am with what single women are supposed to talk about.
After about an hour, I bailed. I told them I'd promised to leave at eight, and it was after eight. Someone said, "Aw, but this is your girl time! It's okay for Daddy to handle things!" That was the moment I felt the most out of place. Moms are supposed to like girl time, right? They want to get away for a little bit. They feel free when they leave their kids at home knowing that they are safe and happy. At least that's what everyone says!
I guess I'm just more domestic than I thought. I like being at home with my family. I love getting together with friends if my kid is invited too. But I just don't like being by myself anymore. I'm not sure when that happened.
This realization doesn't really disappoint me, though. I don't feel like I've "lost myself" or that I am missing out. (It helps that I have never in my life been cool.) I feel, instead, that I have adjusted to the way my life always is. I always have a kid in the carseat when I'm driving, and I prefer it that way. I don't think that's a bad thing.
What would have been a bad thing is if I had given in to my inclinations and scooped my sleeping child out of bed when I got home to nuzzle his neck. I was good and let him sleep. But at his first six a.m. peep, I leaped out of bed to go make sure he knew I was home. I think he'd forgotten I'd ever left. But I got some nice snuggles in while he was nice and sleepy.
Yeah, absence makes the heart grow fonder. But I don't think I'll do that again for awhile. I'll stick with snuggles and neck nuzzles instead!
Since then, I've occasionally left him while I went shopping (he likes shopping, but doesn't care for the driving part) or to go to some brief event or other. Each time, Marko doesn't care a whole lot, and I fall all to pieces.
Now that he's a toddler, he does have some separation anxiety. Whether I'm the one who leaves, or Daddy is, he cries for awhile. John maintains he cries a bit longer when it's me. There isn't a huge difference, though, so I don't feel I'm neglecting him when I leave him with Daddy any more than John is neglecting him when he goes to work. He's still with a parent, he's pretty happy, no biggie.
Last weekend I agreed to go to a Christmas party (the same one I went to last year and had so many adventures on the way). It was going to be quite a drive now that we live so far out. But I said I would go, because I had a good time last year and wanted to see those people again.
But Marko was having a rough day. It had been busy and I'd already had to go shopping without him. When I told him I was going to leave to go to a party, he flipped. He was running around crying "No Mama go! No Mama leaving!" and quite disconsolate. I scooped him up onto my lap and just held him for a minute. He snuggled into me and I nuzzled his neck. (Mmm, so nice.) And all I could think was, "Why the heck do I want to go anywhere but here? What possible fun could I have elsewhere to equal toddler snuggles?" But I had already promised to go.
Once he was calm, I got him reading a story with Daddy and left the house. When I shut the door behind me, he started wailing again. My heart broke into two big pieces. I couldn't even walk away. So I stood there listening to the crying through the door for about a minute, and then I heard him quiet down so I knew he was going to be okay. And I left.
The whole dang way there I was feeling incredibly mopey. All I wanted was my baby and my hubby. I tried to console myself with the thought that I had one baby I couldn't leave anywhere yet, but it wasn't good enough. I wanted our family to be together. I didn't want to go anywhere without all of us.
The party was fun, I guess. I felt all adult tromping around from my parking spot to the party in my nice clothes. But it just felt off to me. I don't see myself as a cool single woman. I am not sure I ever was one. Once I reached the party, I had fun talking to everyone, though it was weird being the only married woman or mom there. I told one woman my opinions on childbirth! Shows how out of touch I am with what single women are supposed to talk about.
After about an hour, I bailed. I told them I'd promised to leave at eight, and it was after eight. Someone said, "Aw, but this is your girl time! It's okay for Daddy to handle things!" That was the moment I felt the most out of place. Moms are supposed to like girl time, right? They want to get away for a little bit. They feel free when they leave their kids at home knowing that they are safe and happy. At least that's what everyone says!
I guess I'm just more domestic than I thought. I like being at home with my family. I love getting together with friends if my kid is invited too. But I just don't like being by myself anymore. I'm not sure when that happened.
This realization doesn't really disappoint me, though. I don't feel like I've "lost myself" or that I am missing out. (It helps that I have never in my life been cool.) I feel, instead, that I have adjusted to the way my life always is. I always have a kid in the carseat when I'm driving, and I prefer it that way. I don't think that's a bad thing.
What would have been a bad thing is if I had given in to my inclinations and scooped my sleeping child out of bed when I got home to nuzzle his neck. I was good and let him sleep. But at his first six a.m. peep, I leaped out of bed to go make sure he knew I was home. I think he'd forgotten I'd ever left. But I got some nice snuggles in while he was nice and sleepy.
Yeah, absence makes the heart grow fonder. But I don't think I'll do that again for awhile. I'll stick with snuggles and neck nuzzles instead!
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