Category Archives: Womanhood

Mar 10 2013
2 Comments
Conscientious, Family, Feminism, Gender Roles, Justice, Mommyhood, Womanhood

The Impact of Raising Kids With Strict Gender Guidelines


(from personal observation)

This is a long-winded one, but if you stick with me and see it through, I hope it will be a thought-provoking journey, at least.

Our world seems to enjoy boxing people into roles, stereotypes, labels, etc. American culture, specifically what I’ve seen in rural American culture, sticks to these kinds of guidelines a bit too stringently for my liking. The church really, really loves doing this kind of thing–and I’m SICK of that, I might add. Sometimes, these snap judgements seem like they could be really useful tools–they keep things simple for your brain, so you’re able to just quickly write something off. Less pain for your brain, easily sorting everything into tidy little spots in society, but not necessarily the truth. They make everything seem very black and white, strictly speaking, and “just the facts, ma’am.” But if you look at yourself, if you look deeply, and if you also look at your life, maybe things shouldn’t be quite so stuck. That maybe, that’s not how the world really turns.

And by stuck, I mean that these guidelines are not be doing us any favors from where I stand. Cookie cutter molds from which to build our peripheral ideas and hopes about other people, other women and men, are not helping but in fact are hurting us at our very core. From looking around me, from looking at the relationships I have and the friendships I’ve built, I think that the gender roles rules need to be kicked to the curb: once and for all. Hello, I am that woman who will not force pink and purple flowered skirts on my daughter if that isn’t her liking, and Oh, hi there–I’m the feminist chick who will truly squeal with delight when my son creates his first dinnertime meal and serves it with pride. And I will never, never ever, give him “boy toys” like hammers and building sets, without giving him a kitchen to play with or something more neutral such as blocks and stuffed animals. And if he wants to carry a baby around and take care of it, my mothering soul will be proud that I have set such a wonderful, nurturing example for him.

Anyhow. The big kicker here is this: How you raise your sweet baby girl or sweet baby boy, is the expectation they will have of the world–FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIFE. The actions, the roles, the responsibilities that your little sponge is soaking up will resonate within them as the truth. The toys that they are given, shows that they watch, the music they hear, the way you self-love or self-hate.. they will have a perfect blue-print of what they think they’re supposed to emulate. Translation: If you’re a momma, and you do all the laundry, cooking, and cleaning, or if you’re a poppa, and you do all long hours of working, all the physically demanding labor, and have never lifted a finger to team up with your wife in a messful of kitchen, then your child will likely follow suit and demand the world to do so as well. When other people, specifically in this case probably your child’s future spouse, do not fit so tidily within these walls of examples, all hell breaks loose. It does not have to be like that.

These people (and I am one of them) who are not stuck in any one mold very tightly (I tend to have a personality that exhibits many male-typical traits & am a born leader in my own opinion, and I am a lot less domestic in many ways than some women are raised to be) a problem will certainly arise. There will be a clash, a contradiction between two worlds, and it will take a very long, long time for both people to reconcile. My husband and I were raised very differently. He was raised in a home where gender roles were very, very strictly followed. My home was a lot more egalitarian, though I do still believe I missed out on many important life skills I would like to learn now (read: changing a tire, or being able to sew), and I am not blaming my parents for these things. They did a great job. My hubby’s parents did a good job too–we just came from entirely different worlds, with entirely different priorities. Needless to say, there were many hurt feelings, misunderstandings, and painful fights in our first year of marriage because of gender roles gone awry. I hope that through our parenting and our observation of God’s design, we can nip that in the bud for our son.

I understand where tradition lies on the spectrum of very important pieces of personal history–traditions are what often make life special, give it meaning, make us feel connected to our past. At least, traditions in my understanding, through my life lens. However, I do not adhere to tradition for its own sake–I will forsake the “same old way” for a “new and more effective, efficient way,” in a heartbeat if I have made the analysis that a change will be positive and helpful. I do a lot of reading and investigating to glean out what the best way may be. The same is true for gender roles–I have looked, inspected, introspected, outwardly glanced, picked up the scriptures, discussed with many people… I just cannot grasp how some people will raise their children without a thought about how gender roles impact them. The world bombards men and women every day, mostly through advertising, and tells them what they will do, what they will say, and how to behave. Women are driven to see themselves as a sex object, when it boils down. Men are pushed to be fearless and impermeable, insusceptible to emotions and hurt. These things rob us of the people God designed us to be, and leave us yearning for more with a deeply buried insecurity that we carry like a huge weight slung over our shoulder. Perhaps not nearly realizing how much it impacts us–so many people carry this with them wherever they go, but it needn’t be so. You can awaken. You can understand that you are not your sex, you are not your gender. You are a child of God with uniquely given gifts and abilities–you do not have to buy, sell, trade, train, or squish yourself into a mold based on the image you see all around you of what the “Woman” or “Man” must do. These roles are irrelevant in many cases. Though they are mostly stereotypes and expectations of society, I will also say that women are often born mothers, wheras men seem to be learned fathers, or nurturers. Many men think that it’s “only a woman’s thing,” or that he isn’t expected to learn to nurture. Not the case, in my eyes. I think many men were never shown by their father-figure exactly what it means to be a nurturing man. Therefore, they always thought that would come from their mother. My husband is one of the most nurturing people I know, but he had to get past his early suppositions in order to embrace that. I had to realize that I am a self-starter when it comes to negotiating with people in a business-environment, and also trying to haggle with some of our utilities providers on the phone, and I am a leader in this way. If I had kept expecting my husband (who knows why? I guess I perceived it as a guy’s thing to do? ) to do these things, we’d both be going crazy, forced into roles which we did not fit.

So what does this all mean for our children? I would like to suggest a wild and crazy notion of forsaking traditional ways, forsaking what your television is telling you, forsaking the industries who are trying to sell you things (ahem… all of those toys and all of the crap you don’t need, which vividly supports gender roles: Dora, Bob the builder (ugh!), Barbie, and action figures like Spiderman…) are not trying to help your child or love them. They are trying to make $$. That is their bottom line–yeah, yeah, yeah, we can all argue about how our kids need action heros and adventure, okay I get that ( I like spiderman) but really… they want to make a quick buck. The more your child wants to be like superman or barbie, the more your child watches and consumes their products, the more money they make. And the less satisfied your child is going to be with who they are–as a woman or a man. I would like to suggest a crazy turnaround of allowing the “world” to suggest for us what our children should be like, and instead do a more inquiry-based playtime with our kids, where they are encouraged to explore all kinds of textures, shapes, experiences… without putting gender as their top priority. The world is made up of so many more things, and creativity blossoms without so many boundaries. Give your child the options. Also, inquiry-based with a dose of real world would also be a step towards better things: allowing your child to cook beside you. Lifting up the hood of your car and showing your kid all of the parts of the engine, etc. Boy & girl. NOT just boys. NOT just girls. We shouldn’t be stealing tools and resources that our children need to have in real life, so that they can come to expect another person to meet those needs for them. That is a huge, HEAVY load. ALL of our kids should be capable in as many areas of living as possible. Not just what our social circles say is acceptable for their gender.

Here is a bit of what I hope to do to help my child thrive in his God-given talents and personality, as a sweet little boy:

1) We have been very, very adamant about NO television for August. I don’t think it’s evil, I think advertising is evil–and there is a huge difference. Point blank. We watch PBS in our home (newly) and listen to NPR. We also listen to a wide array of music. He does not need television to stimulate his brain even more, and all the research shows that he does not need it or learn from it until after age 2. He does not need advertising to tell him what he doesn’t have and needs to have to be happy. He does not need to see the guy with massive muscles that he “should” look like. He will not suffer in the least without these things.

2) I always want him to have a choice in things, if he is able to make those choices. I don’t want him to feel like we are forcing things on him, especially gender-stereotyped things. Activities will not be optional once he gets to a certain age, because we want him to socialize and discover the things that he excels in, but he will choose if its basket weaving or soccer. I will support him in either.

3) As much as we are able, hubby & try to share the load across genders. He does the laundry when he is able and often on weekends, we both clean the house (I do more of this right now, because I am home almost full time with August) but Troy is really much more thorough with cleaning than I could ever hope to be! We must fully own that we are August’s biggest example, and so we have to get out of our comfort zones. I will mow the lawn, and I will learn how to check the oil in our van. I will do things that I am physically able to do. And Troy will carry him around on his back in a springy green Ergo even though it doesn’t make him feel “manly.” He will cook dinner for our family and be proud of it, because a guy can rock at cooking, too. And.. Because we share the load as parents, not as unequal partners.

4) I will encourage my child to see role models in both genders. I’ve had an old-man crush on John Miur for a very long time, probably my early years of highschool, and I respected him for the peaceful protester he is. I hope he will be fascinated with Madame Curie or Condi when he is in his formative years.

5) I will hunt for biblical truth, and not accept mainstream ideas that many churches seem to be having about roles within the church. They are not biblical, and they are not fair to women in who they are in Christ. I feel so strongly about this that I do not attend my old church anymore. I liked many things about it, but their ideas about gender was not one of them.

I feel that the roles we are expected to fill, the shoes we are expected to walk in, can be touchy touchy topics.  It hits people deep down, and they get offended.  I realize that.  But I also realize that it can be lifechanging to realize that these are not very valid reasons to live the way we do.  If you realized that your wife was better at something than you, but you always forced yourself to do it anyhow, it sounds like the recipe for disaster to me.  The same goes for any woman who would choose, every night, to make dinner (even if she’s really bad at it) even though her husband really loves it deep down, and can produce top-notch dinners.  And at the end of the day, I think we should all be sufficient.  Sad as I am to think about it, someday I may not have my husband.  I don’t want to be totally inapable of filling all of the roles he used to fill around our home.  I want us each to be confident and have the life skills we need–gender roles trap us into thinking we need someone else to provide many things for us.

One last thought on this topic, speaking spiritually.  I can give you a million ways that Jesus countered his very male-dominant culture.  I think a lot of people are very set in their ways on this polarizing issue, but during my last year at Greenville College, I had to do a very in-depth investigation about this topic and what Jesus really exhibited through his actions.  Through my studies with my fellow students, I uncovered what I believe very adamantly to be truth.  It was the first time I really, really took a hard long look at what Jesus thought of women and their role: The bleeding woman that he healed is probably the most beautiful example that I can give ((Mark 5:21-43, Matthew 9:18-26, Luke 8:40-56) of a savior who allows a woman who is thought of as “unclean,” completely cut off as a pariah by her fellow people because of her bleeding disorder… to touch him… she was accepted by Him.  Then another example when He speaks to the Samaritan woman at the well, that crosses all lines within his Jewish culture.  Women were very much the “lesser” citizen in Jesus’ day, but he made every effort to tear that down.  My final thought on this would be Jesus’ words: they were often very feminine and used motherly symbolism.  Men of that day just didn’t speak in such a tone.  He spoke of being a mother hen who gathers her chicks about her, in Luke 13:34.  I love that symbolism.  Even a dude in present day would rarely speak like that, so tenderly.  Anyhow, if you have any more questions about any of this, please ask.  Here’s a link that may help explain these beliefs further: http://www.jesuscentral.com/ji/life-of-jesus-modern/jesus-feminist.php.

All my love,

-M

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Feb 13 2013
4 Comments
Appreciation, Baby, Mommyhood, reflection, Relationships, Value, Womanhood

My Boy


This has been a really rough few weeks. Oh Lordy! I cannot begin to describe it. But as is usual, I would prefer to express myself in a different way anyhow. Even when the days are drag-down beat-up days, there is still so much I am thankful for.

Let me tell you, let me count the ways; My Boy is so unique and so particularly mine:

My boy is giggly, wiggly, snuggly and bright.

He has joy in his eyes, a spark of wonder–and light.

He can make me smile, even on the darkest day.

I couldn’t have imagined him, couldn’t have drawn him in a more perfect way.

He was designed, formed, planned.

He was created and molded. Gently, carefully by hand.

The days that get rough, days I can’t sleep…

The days I feel weak, like I’ll break down and weep…

On days when the house is a mess, the dog ran away…

Dinner was ruined and I’ve got nothing to say…

I remember the care that first brought him to life, I remember the joy as he first cried and cooed.

I recall how I gazed on his features and form.

His soft skin, his sweet face. How he smelled, looked–I was wooed!

I quickly realized my blessings and cards had been dealt– my new title of “Mom,” made me totally melt.

I would fall in love–such a love-laced heart attack!

Once you enter the world of a mother, you never once look back.

My Boy, you have changed me–because you are mine.

I am never going to be the same as I was, and that’s really just fine.

All my love,

-M

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Feb 01 2013
6 Comments
Baby, Mommyhood, Pregnancy, Priorities, Value, Womanhood

My Approach: Gentle Lactivism


6months16

I stumbled on the word “Lactivism” a few months ago, and I loved it instantly.
I am and always will be an activist at heart: the champion of my causes to the grave. I care about mothers and babies and breastfeeding, I care about unborn babies. I care about animals, everyone’s right to eat nutritious and wholesome food, and I also care about education and healthcare, as well as natural remedies and our bodies’ awesome abilities to heal themselves. I strongly believe in protecting God’s green Earth and it’s wonderful bounty! If we were being super thorough, I’d have to keep listing more and more topics because my interests and passions are extensive. But these are the main ones.

There are ways to be an activist, and there are many styles of it. Not all of them work extraordinarily well; not all of them are suited to every person–or will appeal in the least to them.

Since I care deeply about mamas and their young, I care deeply about how they are treated and the rights that they have. I want to be someone they can turn to, a voice in the silence when they think nobody else is thinking about what their mind’s eye is on. I want to be an arm outstretched and a comforting person. BUT I have to know when someone is interested in having me fit that role for them. This goes for breastfeeding. Come on, we all KNOW “Breast Is Best.” Every new mother knows that its what she should do–it’s constantly discussed and held up high, and we all realize that it provides a vast amount of benefits. Unless they are under a rock, they know that breastfeeding is strongly encouraged. But some mamas have a very hard time with it, and some ladies have experiences that make it excruciatingly difficult to breastfeed. As a lactivist, I must know this, own it, and see it for the truth that it is. Not every woman is going to be able to do it.

HOWEVER: I see this, and I have heard other women’s stories, grieved with them that they were unable to do what they had hoped for their little ones. Kind of like what happened to me with my would-be natural waterbirth. I know that their babies are still going to be vibrant and healthy thanks to God’s grace and provision. But I will always practice gentle lactivism. I try not to be in anyone’s face about it. I try to use my actions more than my words in order to practice what I believe in, but not step on other mothers’ sensitive and already possibly wounded spirits. I compare it to my belief in Christ, and my walk with Him. Untold numbers of people have been hurt by the church (myself included) and do not want to hear me preaching to them. They don’t want to hear about Christ or what I have been through and how He’s led and loved me. But they will see it as I live my life, and that speaks volumes more than I ever can with my voice.

So what do I do to practice my gentle brand of lactivism? I make sure everyone knows that I breastfeed. I am not shy about it, and I am vocal when August needs a meal! I will say, “I’m going to give August a nursing!” to my husband within anyone’s earshot. I blog about it (like I’m doing now) and talk about it openly and let people know how well it’s going for me! I have had friends without kids ask me about it, ask if it hurts, etc. I am super honest and open with them, and no questions are off-limits when they are curious and want to know. Too few mothers and matriarchs are leading the young women they are surrounded by, and I won’t do that. I want to show other women what is working for me, so that they have something to go off of when they need to know what will work for them. What I do know about my experience is that I did a TON of reading and researching before I actually had to breastfeed my guy when he was born. I knew the possibilities of what could go wrong, and what I could do to try to counteract them. I read really positive stories about women and their great nursing experiences. I tried to beef myself up on facts and good experiences, because it seems our culture only talks loudly about the bad ones (in every area of life, not just bf-ing)and that can be SO hard for a new mom! I felt the sting of so many women who had wanted to tell me their sob stories and angry stories starting out, and that is NOT appropriate to do to a new or pregnant mom. Seriously, quit it folks–know when to share and when to keep it to yourself. I turned my ears off in many instances and asked the Lord to protect me from their negative effects.

Another way I try to be available to new and expectant ladies is this: I will nurse in public to a certain degree, and have even recently nursed with a man nearby (successfully & discreetly!) and without exposing myself. I was pretty proud–if my baby needs to eat, he’s not going to have to wait until a convenient time! I get grouchy if I can’t have a snack when I need one. Haha. But that’s half the solution. Our culture has so wounded women by sexualizing them on nearly every level, and boobs are included. The breast is a FASCINATING, AMAZING functional part of every woman’s anatomy, and the capable and useful feeling of feeding your child with your own body is even more amazing. Our country in particular has robbed women of this, and we need to take back what’s rightfully ours. We need to be free of the notion that we are hussies, sluts, or whatever other horrible term people will throw at you when you’re breastfeeding in a way that someone else might have an inkling of what you’re up to. The gentle, sweet, and so-perfect act of nursing your little one is so far from the sexualized mindset–I believe so many are not able to understand the place it even comes from. They only see a woman for that side of things, and so they will have a hard time with it.

So, gentle lactivism in my book is one part actions speaking louder than words, one part not being afraid to tell people about my experiences when they are curious, and one part counter-cultural confidence about my feeding my son, and how very right it is.

I thought I would share my view on this, because I think so many women can relate or understand or learn from it. I’m sure we’ve all been given “the talk” on numerous subjects dealing with childrearing and pregnancy–from some wise lady who wants to tell you what’s up. I had numerous women try to do that with me during my pregnancy and I just wasn’t up for it. They were people who I didn’t know very well, and they were quite invasive. So I wanted to share how I go about being passionate with this topic, but not insensitive to others.

All my love,

-M

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Nov 03 2012
2 Comments
Spiritual Guidance, Value, Womanhood

Seasonally, always.


There is so much I want to write about right now, but it’s kind of jumbled up and discombobulated in my brain as of now.  Organization.  Life and death.  Family stories.  Mommyhood and the changing of times.  Why one should even bother to write.  But… I will focus on a better overarching idea I am able to grasp right now– changing life seasons.  The more I look at my life, the more I realize I must think in seasons–realizing that nothing is ever permanent but the constant change, nothing on this Earth ever sticks except the tides of our place in this world.  Only eternal things are forever, and those are mostly unseen.

Ecclesiastes 3:11.  That, as I’ve recently decided, is my life verse.  I ran across this idea of having a defining verse to live life by while reading the book “Calm My Anxious Heart: A Woman’s Guide to Finding Contentment,” by Linda Dillow.  I would highly recommend it to any woman, anywhere.  I’ve been reading it off and on for the last year (I’m a serial reader… I will pick up a book for two weeks, or two days, read for awhile, and then continue on to another… and then return to it a few months later.  It’s how I’ve always been, and I’ve stopped fighting the insanity.) and it has certainly proven to me that there are always grains of wisdom to gather from the challenges of others.  That’s also why I usually try to share my own challenges… in a way that isn’t judgemental, and isn’t in-your-face to tell you how to do and what to do.  If I’m doing that ever, I hope you can help to gently correct me.  But I want to share my tough points, and my high points, because I want to be real.  I have seen far too little sincerity and transparency in the world around me, and I try to live my life in graceful opposition to that.

So, about my life verse.  Ecclesiastes 3:11 reads, “He has made everything beautiful in its own time.  He has set eternity in the human heart, yet no one can fathom what he has planned from beginning to end.”

This verse is two-fold for me, in application to my life.  The first part, “He has made everything beautiful in its own time,” really reflects the struggle I have faced most of my life and for my teenage years.  Which I am just now feeling more free of.  At the age of twenty-four, I am now starting to feel as though I can look with a more even-keeled and objective eye at my past.  Some of it will probably never make sense to me, but some of it does now.  God’s revealing some truths to me, and allowing me to see some of my family history in a new light I never did.

When I was in high school, I struggled with an eating disorder.  Sorry if this is a shock to you, but it’s the truth.  If this ever comes up in conversation, I will admit openly that I had bulemia, because to be truthful God deserves His glory.  I honestly believe I’d still be stuck in a very vicious cycle of pain, self-hatred, and constant image issues if my God weren’t powerful and mighty to save.  Compassionate and caring toward me.  This first part of the verse reminds me that “He has made everything beautiful in its time,” meaning ME.  God made me beautiful for my time–as He also made others for theirs.  This verse also allows me to see the beautiful narrative in my painful struggle.  If I had never struggled with this, I wouldn’t have the testamony that I do.  I wouldn’t have had to realize how powerful and protective my God can be.  Furthermore, God used my husband to help heal me from much of this.  I realized how God uses people in such a strong way when he gave Troy to me.  And that is a beautiful thing.  When I say beautiful, I don’t necessarily mean outward beauty.  I mean the inward stories we all have.  The beauty which God brought to us by helping us and walking with us through our darkest and most painful life events.

This part of the verse has also been especially helpful to me when I see a person and begin to judge them.  Begin to wonder what purpose they could possibly have.  I remember that God made them beautiful in their own time, and that they have a purpose.  It’s really helpful when dealing with difficult people.

The second part of my own life verse is just really cool to me.  “He has set eternity in the human heart, yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”  I have always had a childlike fascination with a lot of the things that God has done.  Nature around me, eternity, lots of things.  This is a reminder to me to keep that in my spirit–to keep on looking around me and going, “My gosh, how did God DO this!?”  I want to never forget, I want to always be jumping up and down in excitement, not afraid to make a fool of myself because I’m in awe of God’s glory.  It also speaks to me about how in control He is, and how not in control we are.  He is the great mystery, and it’s something we will always be seeking after.  His mystery.  I love it.

And as I look at everything, at the whole of this verse which I try to apply to myself daily, I see the seasonal awareness that God seems to nudge us towards.  That the seasons are going to ebb and flow probably from now until my life takes its leave from this world.  It seems that God wants us to see that there is a time for all things, but we will not see His plans and purposes in full-view during this life.  It’s always a pull and tug.  This season, that season.  A time for weeping or a time for dancing.  Whatever season you’re going through, I hope that God will use it to strengthen you and draw him closer.

-M

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Jul 28 2012
3 Comments
Pregnancy, Value, Womanhood

The Story of August’s Birth Pt. 1


Remember these shots? Thirty Three, Thirty Five, and then Thirty Eight weeks pregnant. With baby A. Not nearly as large as I would be at 41 weeks… I was huge. Not yet baby August, as the world would know him, but a secret name only we and a few family members knew. That was one of the fun things about pregnancy–keeping our name a secret! We loved it. For us it did a few things: People would keep asking, but it was our own choice and our own timing. It allowed us the freedom to keep a secret to ourselves. It also allowed us to not worry what people thought about the name beforehand, because they did not have a say in it. We had chosen it, and they could gracefully enjoy it once he was born. : )

I think making decisions like keeping the name a secret during pregnancy are important because the experiences is yours, not anyone elses. Of course, those who choose to tell the name are also in their own right to do so. But pregnancy is a time of decision, a time of commitment, and a time of intense preparation that many do not understand or grasp. Especially in the last twenty or so years, I think our culture has really skyrocketed the notion of having “your birth experience,” and becoming educated. Most notably, I think this decade is a time when women are questioning medicine’s complete and unwavering authority, because more and more people are beginning to see the birth process holistically, and not treating it as a medical condition.


(This is what I looked like the day before we went in to the birthing center. Look how swollen my face is! Alas, the joys of the end of pregnancy.)

However–My birth experience was not what I had envisioned –not “holistic” or “natural.” It began very medically, with the use of Cervadil, a drug that I didn’t think would be necessary. At nearly 42 weeks pregnant, my body was showing close to none of the common expected signs of impending labor. My water did not break. My mucus plug did not come out (that I could tell), and I did not have strong or steady contractions at any time, even when we arrived at the birth center to begin induction. My birth began with my own decision that it was time, because I felt a few contractions that were strong, and honestly I didn’t know how safe it was to keep my little guy inside. I had been advised by numerous people, and I didn’t want to jeopardize the life of my baby. So, in a state of heightened stress and awareness, we set off for the birth center.

Things did not begin well. A nurse who I had previously not at all enjoyed was actually there during the beginning of my induction. She was forceful, rude, and her personality just didn’t mesh with me. She wouldn’t have liked to be treated the way she was treating me. And to be truthful, I think that the staff you are surrounded by will greatly affect your experience, so I did NOT want to deal with her seeing my girly parts and being the person I called on for help.

When she asked if she could check to see if I was dilated, I told her no–I would please like a different nurse to be taking care of me. Funny, I know there weren’t many people on staff that evening, and I know it was probably a pain in the butt for them to have to call my midwife (who was on call), but I do have rights as a patient. I feel the birth center staff was almost shocked at my request to receive care from another individual. Receiving care from someone I neither trusted or liked was not on my list of to-do’s during my son’s birth. I tried to be peaceful, but it was really hard. So anyhow, after that initial, stressful runaround, my midwife came in, administered the Cervadil, and so, we waited.

It stayed in for 8 hours. This was the fun, waiting, nothing’s happening, semi-boring, not actually fun time. Which then continued for even longer. My cervix was not responding very much to the drug. To add to the stress of things not going nearly as we had hoped (no drug-free birth for me, but perhaps I could still have a waterbirth?!) my midwife was gone now, because her daughter’s graduation was going on, and another midwife who I did not know nearly as well would be with me. She turned out to be wonderful–in the midst of everything going haywire, God provided a person who coached me and helped advise me, and did not pressure me into anything. Which was what I really needed. An advisor, not a pressure-pusher. So she advised bouncing on the birth ball, walking, etc. Troy & I went out, on a very very hot day in May, and walked around. My contractions were increasing, things were going better. I had to take breaks and really steady my concentration, and bring myself inward. That was a good sign. I think it made it easier to bear these contractions, knowing that I needed them to happen, and knowing they were bringing me closer to my baby.

So we walked and walked, in the blistering sun, and then went inside. I was placed on the monitor intermittently, to make sure baby was okay–but those things are so touchy anyhow. They kept picking up an irregular heartbeat but it was just because I had moved around a little bit. We walked more. We walked so much around that hospital–seeing people looking at us and smiling, knowing what we were doing. Some of them offered an encouraging, “You can do it!” Which was nice. So hours and hours of waiting, and trying, and then getting checked for dilation, and no progress really being made. All of the details of my birth aren’t completely clear to me, even now, because of all the stress involved. But I do know that it was a very long time. We went up and down and finally, I started to dilate more and contractions began to come on more. How exciting!!! Feeling like we were actually going to meet this baby, that he was real and was soon going to enter our lives in a very real way, was what pushed us forward. The nurse started to get the room ready for my waterbirth, since I hadn’t had an epidural and would still be allowed to do waterbirth. So I got into my waterbirth gear:

The nurse said that maybe I could take a warm shower while she was prepping, to help me relax. Unfortunately, that stopped my dilation and contractions, I guess because I was not in real active labor, and before that begins a lot of things can cause contractions to lag. SO… I never really got the contractions to begin again, and my waterbirth plans fell apart. No waterbirth for this girl.

Frustration. Disappointment. Disillusionment. These were all things that I felt during my birth experience. Wondering where my God was when I needed him. What was he doing, anyhow? All of my doubts combined when I finally had to make the decision to begin pitocin. I was so thankful, at this birth center, they never pushed me into those things, but told me that they thought it might be time to try something new because I was making no progress. I had been in labor for such a long time that my body was exhausted already, and I hadn’t done the hard, exhilirating part–the push. Troy & I made the tough decision to start pitocin, and I went through five hours of painful torture. No lies, pit sucks. If you’ve ever experienced it, as one of my friends said, you would “describe the worst pain in the world,” most likely. I did that for the five hours, held my ground and stood tough. But it was so, so hard. And then…

I’ll have to fill you in on more in Birth Story, Part Two.

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Jul 23 2012
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Baby, Mommyhood, Photography, reflection, Value, Womanhood

A full day–and little Jack.


Oh dear, what a long time it has been. We feel like time moves so much more quickly now that we have a little one among us. Months feel like weeks. Weeks feel like days. And so it goes. Today was a good day. It started off fairly beautifully, with our little man smiling and laughing and cooing. He is amazing us around every corner, making us smile and laugh with joy at each turn. He has these mornings now where he wakes up, eats a good breakfast, and then just contentedly looks around his world and enjoys being with his Mommy & Daddy. He lies between us and smiles, and we just soak it up. At the difficult moments of my days, it’s a special blessing to think back to the morning (however long ago and far away it may seem) and smile at our moments with one another.

So this morning was one of those sweet, sweet mornings, and then it took a turn for the unexpected. Troy was leaving for work, and he was going out the door when he said to me, “Honey, come here… look.” I was a little scared to see what it would be–he had a tone that I don’t often hear. A bit of hesitation, a bit of worry. He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door, and what I saw amazed me: A little bunny. Tiny. Just a hint of a rabbit, really. It was lying on our doormat, still as could be, with its eyes closed and ears flattened. We’d never seen a baby rabbit so small, and so very vulnerable. I’m sure a chord was struck within me, having just birthed my own little tiny one. I wanted to help it, wanted to do something for it. So my hubs had to go to work, and he said, “Will you take care of it?!” With the hope I saw in his eyes, how could I not?

I checked around, and eventually after speaking to a few people (via the web, and phone) I finally was advised to take the baby inside because of the ridiculous heat. I did that, and was glad I did because he was looking even more small and tired than the last time I had checked on him. I put our dogs and cat away (who knows… you just can’t be too safe with something like this!) and brought Jack into the house and placed him gently in the bottom of a big rubbermaid with a warm tee-shirt.

I wondered and thought about what would happen to sweet Jack, took a few photos and a video, and then imagined myself nursing him with a tiny little syringe full of “kitten milk,” the pet formula the vet had suggested I purchase. I was terrified, thinking of how I know so little about baby bunnies, and worried to have such a small life on my hands without any knowledge of his needs. Thankfully, I did not have to go through that scenario because I was given the number of a wildlife rehab person in the area. I drove Jack out to her, and handed him over carefully. Whew. What a relief to give him to a professional–someone who knew what he needed! Someone who wouldn’t screw him up with their well-intentioned mistakes (like perhaps, I could have). In those moments, I am reminded of motherhood and mothering: I try and try to know everything I can about my baby, but in the end I have to give him over to the One who is so much bigger, who knows him inside and out. Something I never can do, no matter what. I will never know him as much as his Creator does. Something no mother can do all the way for their baby, no matter how good a mother they are. Whether you’re great at mothering or you’re the most uncertain mother on the planet, God will be a better mother than you are. Comforting thoughts to me, at least. I’d rather know that He is in control of all of that, anyway. Amazing how a tiny bunny can change my life and remind me of God’s goodness. And God knows more than Karp, or Brazelton, or Spock. Especially Spock. Ha!

So, after all of that excitement and life-saving, I was pretty pooped by around 1 o’clock. I was so thankful that my mom had asked me what my plans were for the day, because I really needed some babying. Do you have those days when you need to be taken care of? Most of us would hate to admit it, but you know–it’s so freeing when you finally do. When you sink into the arms of a friend or loved one who understands and cares for you, there is nothing better than hanging up your pride and your big girl pants, and deciding to be vulnerable and allowing them to comfort you.

As a mom, I want to wear my big girl pants often–of course! But there is still a time and place for them to take a rest. I digress. Anyhow, boy am I thankful for my family. There are always ups and downs with family, but you love them just the same. And may I say that they love me just the same, and I am so glad. Mom & I got to have quality time, and she got to have some baby time, too. She loved on him, read to him, and talked to him so much. It brought tears to my eyes to see her enjoying her grandson. My dad was completely enchanted by his grandson, too, and I got to glimpse a bit of what his own fatherhood of myself and my brother must have been like. He kept saying, “What a beautiful baby you are! Did you know? You’re so very handsome.” What a great father. I have been blessed and gifted with two wonderful parents. Mom & I looked at some baby photos of my brother, and I reached into the past with my imagination. How time changes everything. Furthermore, Mom got out my baby diary that she’d lovingly kept, and made us both laugh until we had tears in our eyes because of the hilarity of it all. Would you believe that I was a biter?! And a baby-hitter?! How could I do such things??!!! But I suppose that’s another story for another book.

So I will end this here, and call it a night. Though I know you want to know so badly why I hit a baby when I was two years old.
Adieu.

-M

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May 19 2012
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Conscientious, Education, Mommyhood, Pregnancy, reflection, Value, Womanhood

Decisions, decisions


Hello again, here I am again.  Pouring my thoughts like so many bright colors of oozing paint onto a blank canvas, then stepping back to see what will come of it.  This canvas has a LOT of paint on it… let me tell you– this post contains a bit of of birth jargon and fun medical mumbo-jumbo.  You have been warned.  : )

These days have been about distraction, lest we allow ourselves to succumb to madness: Distraction from myself and my headful of thoughts–there’s so much at the end here that’s happening!  From this neverending yet certainly ending soon–pregnancy.  Distraction from people who mostly, probably, certainly mean well but who occasionally make my head hurt with questions, demands, etc. questioning my ability to be a mother and birth properly.. Hmph…. Distraction from the decisions we will have to make shortly.  You see what I’m getting at, I’m sure.

Here are a few upcoming decisions for the Irvins, just to name some: circumcision (ugh, such a hard choice! The AAP is so non-committal about all of it, and most people I talk to base their reason for circumcising on what their husband had done, or what they think is normal… which is all well and good to take into account, but not a solid reason for us to allow a medical procedure, which is irreversible, to be performed on our son… ), medical interventions (to induce, to wait it out…. the pros, the cons?) changing my mind or sticking to our original plan (we’re scheduled to begin induction with Cervidil  on Tuesday, but depending on how far along things are, we may call it off). 

Everything happened in a flash… We were taken by surprise at my last appointment when we found that I am only at 1 cm dilated, which is where I was at 36 weeks, and a little more than 50% effaced.  This is astounding, but there’s nothing I can do to help it along.  I’ve been taking all of the things my midwife has given me, Evening Primrose, a special “Labor Induce” tincture, etc… but my body is doing what it’s doing.  I will be at 41 weeks tomorrow, and my body is not showing signs of labor.  That doesn’t mean it’s not going to go into labor though!  But we were sitting there last week, discussing so many ifs, ands, whens… and suddenly we had made an appointment for a tentative.. induction…. That word makes me freak out.  I hate it.  It makes me feel like I’m going in to have my nails painted because I can.  There are lots of inductions, I know, and some more gentle or natural than others, but I just never imagined I’d be here.  I guess this is where the advice to “prepare for the unexpected” comes in–so I’m trying to keep my cool and just trust God to know what’s going down, even when I totally don’t.

As of now I am torn, and here’s my predicament: I want as natural a birth as possible–the first medical intervention that occurs leaves many more opportunities for further intervention.  Example:  Cervidil, the artificial prostaglandin that I may be administered, may (or may not) create contractions that really, really hurt (along with ripening my cervix)… just like Pitocin (an artifical form of oxytocin), and which can put the baby under distress.  If contractions get too strong, which they often do with artificial means, the baby does not handle them well and the heart rate may become abnormal.

This process may (so many mights or might-nots!) put me through so much pain that I need pain relief drugs, a narcotic (a nubain cocktail is what my midwife usually uses) or an epidural (my absolute LAST resort, absolutely…) Then… if contractions continue to be very strong, the baby could be critically distressed and –BAM–that’s how the majority of C-Sections happen for mamas and babies… not something I ever want to happen. In fact, my worst nightmare. Of course I know I’ll likely be okay if these things happen, but I really don’t want them to. But, I also see that there are extenuating circumstances.  When the baby is at all at risk, all of my natural birth hopes go down the crapper.  Nothing is more important than getting baby A here, safely.  But there are such toss-ups!  I firmly believe that science and OB’s know hardly anything about a pregnant woman’s body.  They know hardly anything about pregnancy and what’s “normal.”  There IS no normal–but everyone wants to label things in a certain range… humans love to do that for some reason. 

Anyhow, I realize I still didn’t get down to what the real toss-up decision is here!  Here it is: My body could still spontaneously go into labor, even after another week of being pregnant.  At 42 weeks and 2 days I could pop him out!  But… there are a lot of risks involved after 41 weeks, many professionals say.  The placenta is not meant to last forever, and after 41 weeks it seems to fair more poorly in functioning.  The baby has more risk of passing meconium (its first little baby poop) which can be inhaled and cause problems breathing where it must be sucked out of the lungs.  Ahem. See what I mean? 

There’s also another factor hubs & I have had to consider: I need my midwife.  She will not be available certain days and I do not think that’s a good reason for me to do an “elective induction” as this would be called, but I also don’t trust the other providers.  The two doctors aren’t really natural-birth minded at all, and the other midwife just didn’t seem to mesh with my personality.  My midwife is so calm, so collected.  She’s like a gentle giant who I trust with my life.  So I really want her there at my baby’s delivery if at all possible. But is this the best thing for my baby?  Is this the best thing for my body?  God designed it to work properly and there’s no reason it can’t.  I’m healthy, baby’s healthy, and yet it’s quite a stab in the dark wondering where the risk increases.

(insert big huge sigh) I need God’s guidance.  I need His peace more than anything.  I’ve been asking, and there are moments of restfulness when I feel completely confident that we will know what to do when it comes time.  But then there are moments of intense panic when I worry that something bad will happen.

 I know that I am more educated than many women my age who have labored, and I’m not saying that out of pride–it’s the truth.  I was interested in the medicalization of childbirth in America, and the birth process in general, before I was pregnant, so I knew a few things, but I really dove in during pregnancy because I never want to be counted among the uneducated masses who simply listens to a professional because, well, they’re a professional.  I have my own rights and decisions, and must do my “due diligence” to learn what I can. But somehow it’s never enough because I must give myself over to God’s grace. I know this. I must give my struggle for control over the unknown to Him, because He is my caring father. He is my provider. He is our savior. See, I do realize I’m struggling with control. ;) I’m not totally in the closet with that, but not totally out either. Ha.

When you’ve educated yourself, prayed hard, and consulted trusted friends…yet cannot seem to get to a good peace of mind, where do you turn?

That’s why distraction has been the name of the game. Modern Family-aholics right here.  Art projects.  House projects. Taking long walks. Shopping. Stocking up on food. Watching paint dry.. okay, not that one, I was just seeing if you made it through this rambling post. :)

If you have a moment, friends, I could use your prayers. Much love.

-M

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May 15 2012
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reflection, Womanhood

40 weeks and 2 days


It’s hilarious–it’s very funny–it tickles me… when people ask me when I’m due now. I love seeing the reaction spread across their face like ripples across a little pond. First they seem slightly surprised, and then downright shocked. Now that I’m past my due date, it feels like the pressure’s off! And all those people who ask are just so taken off guard. :) It’s fun. Doesn’t mean I’m no longer anxious, but it makes the waiting game a little less.. intimidating.

  I thought for sure this baby was going to be early!  Looks like I’m in the same boat with all of those other first-timers who go past their dates!  Things are crazy…. we’re going a little insane.  We’re letting go of what we think is important, and just living day-to-day trying to anticipate the next bend in the road, with God’s grace & guidance.  I’m learning that this ENTIRE journey is all about trying to keep my eyes on Him, remembering that I am not the controller of the universe, though I think I am at times.  Nope, this little guy is coming when God wants him to!  And apparently that is not last night, today, or this evening.  I thought I was in labor last night–early labor.  Nope.  Went to sleep and woke up completely contraction-less.  Frustrating.  All in all, it truly does feel like this baby will never get here.  I know it’s just a season, and I am trying to relish these kicks and rolls I feel often, but still…. I want my baby here now!

A comfort that God gave me recently–I have been reading like a maniac to keep my mind off of my belly (and my aching feet, tingling numb hands, etc.) and last night the character in my book read Psalm 139: 13-16. I paused as I read and it took my breath away.  He knows my little one.  He knows my baby far better than I ever will, and do now.  He wrote the book of my child’s life, already.  Everything that is happening is not an accident, and God already knew about it.  How amazing that there are no surprises for my Father.

Anyhow, tonight a sweet friend wrote on my Facebook wall that exact same verse.  Interesting how God reassures us, right?  How He loves us.  How He pursues us even in the midst of our frantic, self-seeking daily struggles.

Thank you God, for your love!!!  Thank you all for your prayers and care.  It’s meant a lot to know there are so many thinking about and praying for us.

-M

May 07 2012
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Mommyhood, Pregnancy, reflection, Womanhood

39 weeks 1 day


There’s a lot going down.

And up. And out. My belly, particularly. This remarkable mass of life that is growing and stretching and forming our little one. It’s a miracle. I feel it can get no larger–and then it shockingly does!

The surprising news of the hour is that the due date I’ve been carrying around with me in my head (the 18th) for about 8 months, is not the due date my midwife has been going by! Alas, how could I be so mistaken, you ask? Who knows. Confusion, mix-up, etc. I don’t blame myself too much since they changed my due date about three times, but it’s pretty funny. A day that truly matters so little (just an estimate) means so much! It is what every person asks you (who doesn’t know you) immediately when they see your huge, protruding abdomen. Yes, it gets annoying to keep starting dead-end conversations with that date. There’s really nothing much to follow up with other than, “Yeah, it’s really exciting.” Yet you have no idea when it will happen!!! But this new revelation means that he may come sooner than I had expected. Woah!!!

So anyhow–Our due date is actually Mother’s Day! I wonder if it will really happen then? The magazines, online articles, and books all say it probably won’t, most often, occur on THE day, but within 10 or so days, before or after. This waiting game is truly driving hubby & I insane, though we are trying to use it to its capacity: fixing a LOT of things up, trying to get in some time together, and praying that God will guide us through these next weeks as only He can. We have to say it is scary. I don’t want to call it that, but it is. It is exciting and terrifying and awe-inspiring all wrapped together in a mush of emotion. Emotion that hits you smack in the face when you least expect it–by any little thing at all. I’ve done a lot over my entire pregnancy to try to reverse the “scare-factor” that our society dearly loves instilling in young women, when it comes to labor. I have read, I have discussed, I have repeated to myself positive affirmations about my body and God’s strength. But the fear of labor is still lingering of course. It’s something I’ve never experienced and I can’t even compare any life experience to it. Fear is a normal reaction, unfortunately. Pray for me, friend.

This little boy has shaped our world–made me wonder who I want to be. Made me think twice about my decisions, my ideas, the things I’m living and fighting for. It’s amazing and so, so BIG.

Also, hormones have been raging, as they tend to do, within me–and I can tell at least SOMETHING is going on with my body… but I feel about as close to labor as I was ten weeks ago. The last contractions I had were about 2 weeks ago, and each time my midwife asks if I’ve had any I feel a little sad. But perhaps my labor will just be dramatic, and happen all of a sudden! That will make it very, very real. Very crazy. But I almost prefer it to something that happens slowly over time, and gradually. I’m ready for this. I’ve prepared so much, and whats more, my God is taking care of me.

I am so ready to meet this baby! I am so ready to hold him, to kiss his sweet face, to gaze at his tiny fingers and toes. I am so ready to be even more stunned by the creation God has given to us–by this process of growing and living and dying that we are all involved with. I think that having a son is going to challenge us, please us, hurt us, excite us, and make us laugh uncontrollably, as well. This is just the very start.

So little guy, When are you coming?!!!!!!?? Can you tell I’m a little bit of a spaz these days? 8)

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Mar 10 2012
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Family, Mommyhood, Pregnancy, reflection, Womanhood

Closer: 31 Weeks


This photo is from our belly shoot, done by a lovely and talented woman we know from our community at church. It was such a fun time. I felt so beautiful, thinking about our little blossoming baby growing inside me. I now feel so, so, so much bigger than I was in this photo! Tonight an old man at wal-mart loudly exclaimed “Big Ol’ Belly!” as I walked past–it took everything I had (and thank goodness that my loving, gracious husband was around and helped me walk away and take a breath) not to give him the death glare and tell him “No, ya think!!? YOU have a “BIG OL’ BELLY!”…(rolling eyes)” But this pleasant little wal-mart run-in at least confirmed my sneaking suspicions that I am indeed growing bigger by the minute. It’s a strange feeling having that happen in front of the whole world–something I wish more pregnant ladies would discuss. Just imagine if another visible part of our bodies expanded so much over the same amount of time–we’d all need to talk about it! But now that I’m experiencing it: it’s a strange mixture between being a publicly on-display freak at a circus show some of the time, and yet also feeling like a very celebrated and important individual when you walk into a room at other times. Depending on which room, I guess, and with whom. And as an ambassador and believer in Christ, it’s my job to balance my own pride and anger (who do they think they are, trying to touch my belly or talk to me about my pregnancy! They don’t even know me!) as well as infuse the grace and peace of the gospel into people’s lives as I interact with them on these… semi-touchy subjects. A woman’s body is her body, and I will not step back from telling strangers to please mind my personal space, but it can be done with love. I digress.

So, tomorrow. Tomorrow will herald the beginning of the 31st week, and from then it could be only seven, eight, or nine weeks until he’s here. Or more. Come on, full term!!–and not a second more… please? Of course, I realize I have no control over this at all. I’m just hoping that my labor will progress and not stall because of fear or tension, and I’ve taken measures to help that happen: learning to breathe, relaxation techniques, etc. Since I’ve dealt with stress issues my whole life, I feel I have prepared a lot in the past for this very thing in my pregnancy. Trying to do what I need to do to prep and open my body and mind to the idea of pushing this baby out into the world. What a task! What a job! But there’s nothing more natural in the wide, vast world. Of this I must remind myself, “You were born for this.” And I’m certain every step I take towards “Go Day” that my confidence is building up toward that idea. It’s not easy, but I’m sure when I finally look into his eyes with tears in my own, and stare at his perfectly formed little face, nothing else will resonate but this train of thoughts: “Wonderfully knit together within me. Intended for and gracefully crafted. Beautiful.” This child was no accident, and the more I think of him as a true, separate person from me, and not just a part of my body like he seems, the more I know it to be truth. He will have his own life, God has plans for him unique to him as an individual. So awesome.

He’s going to rock my world. He’s going to rock Troy’s. It’s happening already–but we’re ready for it, anticipating, and some real excitement is building.

By this point, our deep awe and surprise and disbelief that a tiny human could truly be growing within me has somewhat subsided, and real joy wrapped in much excitement has begun moving forward to take the stage. We lie in bed at night and go over the days event’s, realizing that it feels our days are blending together and going so quickly–we sit, sort of holding our breath, with our hands on my belly waiting for the next big kick from our little man. When he has the hiccups, I smile and rub him for a little hello. I daydream more often than I did at first about how he will be, how he will look when I first lay eyes on him.

We’re getting there. It’s coming closer. Through it all, I am trying to do my part, and also embrace what actually occurs. Not always easy, but something to work towards. We are beginning to do more to get the nursery ready, and perhaps there’s even light at the end of the tunnel. Much to be done, much has already been done, and much more will come in the future.

With all my love at 31 weeks,

-M

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