Thursday, September 30, 2010
Share Care
Cub has to be the most sharing toddler I've ever met. At least with us. If he's eating something, he insists we take a bite too. Although, I'm not sure if that's a sharing gesture or a test to see if we'll actually eat what we're serving him. And he can get quite bossy with sharing too. "Eat, mommy. Eat!" As he shoves a piece of food into my mouth. Or if I'm offering him something from my plate, he insists on taking the fork and stretching it across the table to daddy for him to try too. Usually I find it really cute and go along with this sharing routine. But I must admit, I don't have the stomach to share the chewed up food he's spit out and presented to me as if it were choice lobster. Or sharing his tooth brush among other things. Some things just aren't for sharing, Cub.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Cub's Eye
The eye.
I'm learning more and more each day that this eye issue with Cub is about me!
Over the last year, we've been dealing with recurrent chalazions. They're clogged oil glands along the eye lid that cause red swelling and a firm bump. It looks similar to a stye. But usually stays longer.
While it doesn't seem to bother Cub, it really bothers me. Because of the people. I worry constantly about what other people will think when they see him. And rightfully so in some cases. I spend the most time with Cub, we go everywhere, and almost everywhere we go lately someone or quite a few people ask, "What's wrong with his eye?" Or little kids stare and point. Luckily, Cub's still young enough not to notice other people's responses. But I do. And I "allow" it to make me feel insufficient, the mother scum of the earth. Like a negligent parent. Even though I spend hours of my life trying to help and heal this eye issue.
The other day we were at a Farmer's Market and bumped into a few people from a gymboree class we're attending. Naturally, they all made a comment about his eye. But one mom in particular really got to me. She said, "He gets those a lot. It must be hereditary." I was furious and mortified. No, it's not hereditary. Neither my husband or I get these. And furthermore, you don't see us enough to know if he gets them "a lot". I was so bothered. Then I had to stop myself and say, "this is about you. You're embarrassed." When I left that mother, I had that sinking feeling of unworthiness. Like if I was a better mom or did more or whatever, Cub wouldn't be getting these bumps. But the truth is, I do as much as I can to avoid them. And some things just happen to kids. It's part of being a kid!
Being a parent definitely has its own peer pressures. I'm working at not falling into them. But at times, it can feel like a bad eighties popularity contest!
I'm learning more and more each day that this eye issue with Cub is about me!
Over the last year, we've been dealing with recurrent chalazions. They're clogged oil glands along the eye lid that cause red swelling and a firm bump. It looks similar to a stye. But usually stays longer.
While it doesn't seem to bother Cub, it really bothers me. Because of the people. I worry constantly about what other people will think when they see him. And rightfully so in some cases. I spend the most time with Cub, we go everywhere, and almost everywhere we go lately someone or quite a few people ask, "What's wrong with his eye?" Or little kids stare and point. Luckily, Cub's still young enough not to notice other people's responses. But I do. And I "allow" it to make me feel insufficient, the mother scum of the earth. Like a negligent parent. Even though I spend hours of my life trying to help and heal this eye issue.
The other day we were at a Farmer's Market and bumped into a few people from a gymboree class we're attending. Naturally, they all made a comment about his eye. But one mom in particular really got to me. She said, "He gets those a lot. It must be hereditary." I was furious and mortified. No, it's not hereditary. Neither my husband or I get these. And furthermore, you don't see us enough to know if he gets them "a lot". I was so bothered. Then I had to stop myself and say, "this is about you. You're embarrassed." When I left that mother, I had that sinking feeling of unworthiness. Like if I was a better mom or did more or whatever, Cub wouldn't be getting these bumps. But the truth is, I do as much as I can to avoid them. And some things just happen to kids. It's part of being a kid!
Being a parent definitely has its own peer pressures. I'm working at not falling into them. But at times, it can feel like a bad eighties popularity contest!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Empty Shelves
I have a few friends who have recently lost babies to miscarriage.
As a mother now, my empathy runs much deeper.
I didn't understand the heart-pull connection before Cub.
Sadly, I have lost two of my own children by my own will through two abortions. I didn't get it then. Maybe I didn't want to understand in those vulnerable moments. In fact, I know I didn't. It would've made "the decision" that much more real and cruel. When the nurse told me it was simply a "mass" the size of a grain of rice, I gladly accepted that explanation. Thank God it wasn't a baby... yet! Or so I told myself.
But ironically, on the other side of pregnancy, when "wanting" to be pregnant, every little day and week matters. That little "mass" is now proudly a little baby growing rapidly -- with a heartbeat! Oh, the joy! I remember when first pregnant with Cub at eight weeks, I was so excited to go and see him on my first ultra-sound. And then later that day it hit me, my last abortion was at eight weeks.
I'm being transparent about my own story because I realize that there are so many women out there hurting. And very confused. Whether losing a baby through an abortion or a miscarriage, somehow if the weeks aren't long enough, then you're not supposed to hurt as bad. If you had a miscarriage at six or eight weeks, our culture expects you to "get over it". It wasn't really a baby yet. Or not a "baby" baby... right? However, if you lose a baby at four months or even further along, then that should really hurt. Is grief really measured by time? For instance, if someone dear to you dies at 100, does that mean you shouldn't be that sad since they've lived a long life? Or is it still that someone you love has gone away -- whether 6 weeks in utero or 99?
The last few days I've been searching for a few good books to help one of my friends through her time of loss. There are several great ones online: Empty Arms, I'll Hold You in Heaven, Grieving the Child I Never Knew, Miscarriage: Women Sharing From the Heart (all on Amazon). While I knew I could order all of these online, I thought it would be faster just to run to Barnes and Noble or Borders. When I got there and asked about these books or a section on miscarriages, I got very concerned, even sad looks. But then lead to a TINY little area where a small sticker said, "miscarriages", but no books actually on grief or healing after a miscarriage or abortion. The sales clerks (I went to both Barnes and Borders) looked a little ashamed at the poor selection and quickly volunteered to order the books online for me.
Those tiny bookstore sections are symbolic of what little time we (and others) give ourselves to heal after the loss of a baby. We're supposed to wipe back our tears and either try again for the "next" baby or wait until we're "ready" for our "chosen" baby. But don't spend too much time mourning a baby that wasn't even "born"! Or never had a "full" chance at life. So instead we walk around with a tiny section in our heart labeled "miscarriage" or "abortion" on an empty shelf.
Yet if the topic is brought up in a safe or intimate circle of women and mothers, almost every one of them will say they've lost a baby through miscarriage or abortion. And most will be willing to talk about it. Especially if it's a miscarriage. However, even the most liberal of women often still have a hard time sharing their abortion story. Unless it's with a gruff, defensive response, denying any remorse. It's almost as if, if you're "pro-choice", you're not supposed to actually hurt or have any sad feelings about your abortion? How sad!
Feelings are real. The loss is real. You don't have to be a prisoner to grief. But you also don't have to be a prisoner to denial. Give yourself time and allowance to heal.
There's an opening note to the mothers in the book, "Miscarriages: Women sharing from the heart" that touched my heart and hopefully touches yours too if you've ever lost a child during pregnancy:
Dear Mother,
Regardless of the length of time you were pregnant, you carried a real, living being in your womb. That little being, your baby, died. What you are feeling is grief, a complex, yet normal, response to loss... Although the future appears dark, you will survive. You will find your strength along the way. You will see the light of day again. Together we'll hold steadfast through the tears.
As a mother now, my empathy runs much deeper.
I didn't understand the heart-pull connection before Cub.
Sadly, I have lost two of my own children by my own will through two abortions. I didn't get it then. Maybe I didn't want to understand in those vulnerable moments. In fact, I know I didn't. It would've made "the decision" that much more real and cruel. When the nurse told me it was simply a "mass" the size of a grain of rice, I gladly accepted that explanation. Thank God it wasn't a baby... yet! Or so I told myself.
But ironically, on the other side of pregnancy, when "wanting" to be pregnant, every little day and week matters. That little "mass" is now proudly a little baby growing rapidly -- with a heartbeat! Oh, the joy! I remember when first pregnant with Cub at eight weeks, I was so excited to go and see him on my first ultra-sound. And then later that day it hit me, my last abortion was at eight weeks.
I'm being transparent about my own story because I realize that there are so many women out there hurting. And very confused. Whether losing a baby through an abortion or a miscarriage, somehow if the weeks aren't long enough, then you're not supposed to hurt as bad. If you had a miscarriage at six or eight weeks, our culture expects you to "get over it". It wasn't really a baby yet. Or not a "baby" baby... right? However, if you lose a baby at four months or even further along, then that should really hurt. Is grief really measured by time? For instance, if someone dear to you dies at 100, does that mean you shouldn't be that sad since they've lived a long life? Or is it still that someone you love has gone away -- whether 6 weeks in utero or 99?
The last few days I've been searching for a few good books to help one of my friends through her time of loss. There are several great ones online: Empty Arms, I'll Hold You in Heaven, Grieving the Child I Never Knew, Miscarriage: Women Sharing From the Heart (all on Amazon). While I knew I could order all of these online, I thought it would be faster just to run to Barnes and Noble or Borders. When I got there and asked about these books or a section on miscarriages, I got very concerned, even sad looks. But then lead to a TINY little area where a small sticker said, "miscarriages", but no books actually on grief or healing after a miscarriage or abortion. The sales clerks (I went to both Barnes and Borders) looked a little ashamed at the poor selection and quickly volunteered to order the books online for me.
Those tiny bookstore sections are symbolic of what little time we (and others) give ourselves to heal after the loss of a baby. We're supposed to wipe back our tears and either try again for the "next" baby or wait until we're "ready" for our "chosen" baby. But don't spend too much time mourning a baby that wasn't even "born"! Or never had a "full" chance at life. So instead we walk around with a tiny section in our heart labeled "miscarriage" or "abortion" on an empty shelf.
Yet if the topic is brought up in a safe or intimate circle of women and mothers, almost every one of them will say they've lost a baby through miscarriage or abortion. And most will be willing to talk about it. Especially if it's a miscarriage. However, even the most liberal of women often still have a hard time sharing their abortion story. Unless it's with a gruff, defensive response, denying any remorse. It's almost as if, if you're "pro-choice", you're not supposed to actually hurt or have any sad feelings about your abortion? How sad!
Feelings are real. The loss is real. You don't have to be a prisoner to grief. But you also don't have to be a prisoner to denial. Give yourself time and allowance to heal.
There's an opening note to the mothers in the book, "Miscarriages: Women sharing from the heart" that touched my heart and hopefully touches yours too if you've ever lost a child during pregnancy:
Dear Mother,
Regardless of the length of time you were pregnant, you carried a real, living being in your womb. That little being, your baby, died. What you are feeling is grief, a complex, yet normal, response to loss... Although the future appears dark, you will survive. You will find your strength along the way. You will see the light of day again. Together we'll hold steadfast through the tears.
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