It's that time again. It's been several months since I've been raw and vulnerable in the public online world. It's hard, and it's refreshing. It means everyone knows everything and no one has to beat around the bush trying to get the inside scoop on Shannon and I get to avoid awkward conversations. Deep breath...
During the last session of the LDS General Conference I was in the room for this talk. It stirred a lot of mixed emotions in me. Many of you most likely know that I no longer consider myself a member of the LDS faith though I've chosen to leave my name on the records of the Church out of respect for my husband, knowing how a request to have my name removed would effect him. I share this so that you may know I am one of the wandering sheep referred to in this talk.
Wow. I appreciated and bristled at this talk for so many reasons, many of them one and the same. I appreciated a general authority telling active members of the church to be loving and inclusive of those who choose to leave the church. I hated being reminded that many people who choose to leave are ostracized by their families because they don't know how to show love to someone they believe is living in sin. I also cringed as he detailed how nice and inclusive they all were to his sister for reasons I can't quite express. Perhaps I felt he was describing these things to pat himself on the back, as if to say "I know its hard to love those who choose to leave the fold, but LOOK I managed to be kind to a sinner and so can you." Perhaps it was the influx of emails, Facebook messages, etc, from people I haven't associated with in years just wanting to say hi, knowing good and well that they were writing to me because of this conference talk. I'm sure they were all coming from a well intentioned place, but it hurts to feel like people are only reaching out because they want to "be good missionaries," and can then check off "talk to the lost sheep" from their To-Do list.
All this being so, I was grateful that those less lucky than I, who have had a fence erected against them because they choose to wander and explore, have someone speaking out in their favor; admonishing their loved ones to still include them. Because we darn well should be included! Our faith should have nothing to do with whether or not we are invited to important family gatherings, or whether or not we can still be friends. Just because I'm not sure there even is a God, and am pretty confident the LDS church is not the one true church (for reasons I prefer to keep private unless you wish to ask me about them with an open and loving mind, with no intention of trying to argue why I'm wrong) doesn't mean that we can't enjoy every other aspect of a fulfilling relationship that we enjoyed when I considered myself a part of your fold. Thank-you Elder Nielson for making that clear, it was very much needed and it made it easier for me to live with the underlying implications of your talk.
Implying that we, the wandering sheep, are lost, living in miserable darkness, makes me feel as though you don't really understand us "lost sheep." I feel as though you don't really care about my experience; so long as everyone is nice to my face, it's ok to go around talking to each other about how lost I am and device plans to draw me back to your way of thinking. When you generalize Susan's experiences to be unanimously true for me too, I feel incredibly invalidated. I feel like I then can't express how heavily I'm struggling with depression to my active member friends and family because they will think it's because I no longer have the spirit in my life, not that it could very well be because depression is something I've struggled with since I was fifteen (and still very much a good mormon girl), or that I just had yet another miscarriage, or that I'm living my life in limbo at the moment and I HATE limbo. Nope, I clearly must be depressed because I no longer have the light of Christ in my life.
I know this is what people think because this is what every General Conference talk about the "lost sheep" implies (or directly states) and because thats exactly what I used to think myself. With every wave of depression I experienced, my go to was always to throw myself in to the church even more because thats what I had been taught to do all my life. So long as I believe in Christ, say my prayers, read my scriptures, go to church, spread the gospel, etc, I WILL be happy. So when happiness was not a part of my life I would begin obsessive scripture study and start preaching to my friends about how awesome the Book of Mormon is. Sadly, it never worked. The wave of depression would usually be chased away by the summer sun, NOT by scripture study. Yes, some people when they leave the church go off the deep end, they turn to drugs and other dangerous things to find happiness. These same people, and others who have never been a part of the church are able to finally leave such things behind because they find the church and make it a part of their lives. Some people may not have been living "Crazy sinful lives" but still found deeper meaning to life in returning to active membership. Yay, this is fantastic! But please, don't turn it around and use it to say that without the church we are all lost and unhappy, or that the LDS church is a good thing for everyone, because it's not.
Various aspects of the church often made my depression worse, various teachings of the church often went against what my own heart and personal conscience were telling me was/is right. To many people feel trapped because they have to choose between a life of lonely celibacy within the church, barred from certain callings because of their sexual orientation, and living a life outside of the church, potentially ostracized from their loved friends and family. There are many more stories out there. Many people who have struggled through infinitely harder things than I and found that leaving the church was the only way for them to fully breathe. While countless people have only known happiness within the church, there are countless people who have only known happiness by having the courage to stand up and say "this church is not right for me" and then do their best to gracefully walk away.
Please, don't minimize our experiences. Don't assume we've left out of laziness or because someone in the ward, or an apostle in general conference offended us. The truth is, many of us know leaving the church will be a hard, often lonely path. We know leaving the church means being the child wept over in prayer, the one talked about in stake conference, the one the home teachers make an extra effort to "bring back," and always being thought of as the "lost" despite feeling more found than we ever have before. We know leaving the church means letting go of one rod and having to scramble to find a new place to plant our feet. Leaving the church is pretty damn scary and HARD. Most all of us would give anything to be happy in the church because staying in the church is EASY., at least when compared to the alternative. It's so much easier to keep doing and believing what I've believed all my life: what everyone near and dear to me believes and does. Stop telling me I'm choosing the easy road by leaving. It was NOT easy.
It's not easy knowing my husband fears he'll live in an afterlife without me, but chooses to make the best of this life all the same. It's not easy knowing my family talks about the lack of "spirit" in the house I work so hard to make a home. It's not easy learning to be ok with this life possibly being the only life I have; wrapping my mind around the finality of death. It's not easy being told by family exactly why they feel I don't belong at a sibling's wedding, and then missing the actual wedding all together because I'm not allowed in. It's not easy trying to find a NEW reason for this life. It's not easy finding myself in a world where everything I've ever been raised to believe feels hallow and empty and having to find something new to burn the fire within. I would happily believe that there is a magical afterlife where everything is ok because Jesus died for our sins, I really would if I could. Please have the courtesy to believe me when I say I have truly tried, and then honor my journey and my current life experiences. I don't think any less of people who choose to be a part of the LDS church, I don't belittle your experiences and I try very hard not to belittle your beliefs even when I truly believe you are wrong (as I'm sure you often feel about me). So please, do me the same courtesy. All our experiences are valid. Lets honor each and every journey we are all on and enjoy the adventure that is life.
I have left the fold, and I am wandering, but as J.R.R. Tolkien so wisely put "Not all who wander are lost."
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Focus on breathing
A few days ago a friend shared THIS blog post. The jist of it is that her number one piece of parenting advice is "Don't kill the baby." I'm not going to lie, my first year of motherhood was easy. I slid in to motherhood like it was MADE for me. I enjoyed every minute of it. I missed having some purpose outside of the house but still thoroughly enjoyed my life IN the home. I was ready to have another baby almost instantly. Around the time little Tali was 18 months I preceded to have one miscarriage after another. A year and a half later I've grieved a LOT and found my self in a space where I'm not even sure I want the child I have at times, let alone another. I still feel an unbelievable amount of pain over my miscarriages, my second one most of all, I also harbor a large amount of guilt for thanking the universe every day that I only have one kid to tend too. Brenan tells me I focus to much on the negative and not enough on the positive. He's probably right. But it's hard to see the positive when each day feels as though I'm trapped in a cage submerged in icy water and escape is no where to be found. When simply getting out of bed in the morning is only the begining of a waterfall of extremely hard things you will do that day (such as; not screaming at the child that you'll come when you're done cleaning up the cereal they accidentally spilled all over the entire house, resisting the urge to lock the child in the bedroom for 6 hours so that you can lay with a pillow over your head and breath in silence, not punching your child in the face when they inadvertently cause you a surprising amount of physical pain for the 7th time in one hour, and miraculously managing to remain calm while explaining to said child for the tenth time that they can NOT shove sticks in to the power outlets even if she does need to hang her necklace on it), it's understandable that even the gooey kisses bring a delayed and painful smile to my face. Lace all of this with mild depression and it will become damn near impossible to look on the bright side, even when I'm more naturally a "bright-side" kind of person.
That blog was a breath of fresh air because it came from a mother who "gets" it. She stood up and admitted that no matter how Pinterest perfect your life is (or isn't) the best accomplishment you can have as a parent is and always will be that you kept that child and YOURSELF alive! Sometimes that's all you can manage. Sometimes you need to hide in a dark closet while your kid wanders the house calling your name and just BREATHE for an hour and hope nothing bad happens while pretending to not exist.
"Sometimes all you can do is stand and breathe"
That blog was a breath of fresh air because it came from a mother who "gets" it. She stood up and admitted that no matter how Pinterest perfect your life is (or isn't) the best accomplishment you can have as a parent is and always will be that you kept that child and YOURSELF alive! Sometimes that's all you can manage. Sometimes you need to hide in a dark closet while your kid wanders the house calling your name and just BREATHE for an hour and hope nothing bad happens while pretending to not exist.
"Sometimes all you can do is stand and breathe"
My very being is glued to the floor.
The three year old pulls at my arm
How long have I been laying here?
"Mom mom mom mom mom come on mom"
Not long enough. I close my eyes tighter.
Maybe it will think I'm dead and move on.
"Mom! Mom! Get up mom! Lemme show you!"
I try to visualize standing.
Standing. How does one do that?
I stretch my hands wide and wiggle my fingers.
They work. I shouldn't be surprised that they work.
"Mom, mom, mom why you laying there mom?"
My lids flutter open. There's a smiling chocolate covered face hanging over me
I choke back the scream trying to claw its way out of my throat
Breath. Focus on sitting up. Breath. You can do this.
"MOM! I'm waiting mom! Put your shoes on mom!"
Sitting is easy, breath, count to three, stand
That wasn't hard, I can move, my body works
"Yaaaaaay! Le'me show you now mom"
My fingers are yanked and my body follows
One foot, then the other.
Breath in.
Breath Out.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Sacred Spaces
Your sacred space is where you can find yourself again and again. -- Joseph Campbell
Life is busy and LOUD and hectic. It's very easy to be lost in the chaos and forget the importance of finding silence. We all need refuges. They allow us to recenter ourselves, remember who we are, whats important, and give us the energy to truly live each moment.
I strive to make our home one of these safe havens, not only for me, but for everyone who finds themselves under our roof. I like to think I do a pretty good job. However, I've tried to take things a step further and not only make my home a safe space, but also one of sacred spaces.
A while back I created a personal altar in my living room to serve as such a space. It's on the wall right next to my rocking chair where I can almost always be found sitting if I''m in the living room.
It is my sacred space where I can breath and find me again. I've done a lot of healing in the space as I experienced one miscarriage after another. Occasionally I remove and add items. The altar experience change as I change.
Much more recently I set out to make mine and Brenan's bedroom a sacred space. After all, it's where I hope to conceive, and even birth our next child. I'm no interior designer and I think it still needs a few finishing touches, but I'm pleased with how it turned out.
I find myself drawn to my bedroom far more than I ever was before. It is a room where my soul and body can come to rest. A room worthy of bringing new life in to this world.
After such a process, I have a few tips for anyone wanting to create their own sacred spaces whether it be an altar or an entire room.
1) Decide what you need from a sacred space. Does it need to be a place for meditation, yoga, or a visual affirmation? Is there a particular theme you'd like your space to have? Example: my living room altar was created to help me heal and move on (as much as anyone can) from my miscarriages. It had a place for incense, painting I had done while meditating on my grief, and other mementos that hold great symbolism for me. I choose to place it in an area I could see often through out my day and next to my favorite seat in the house.
2) Use what you have. The base can be anything, a shelf, dresser, side table, or an entire room. There's no need to run out and spend money buying new things for your space. More often than not, we already have important symbolic items scattered around our house, tucked away in drawers and boxes. This is an opportunity to bring them out to be a constant source of positive energy. Other times altar pieces can be items you created your self, this allows them to have more personal meaning. About half of everything on my personal altar was created by me, the other half were items I already had, or that have come to me through healing circles, as gifts, or I've found in nature. However, there are a few things that I've bought because when I picked them up my spirit refused to be separated, or because I specifically went out looking for such an item for it's symbolism. My point is, no matter your financial situation, you CAN create a sacred space.
3) Simple is almost always better. Our lives are already so crazy, it's nice to take the craziness out of our sacred space by airing on the side of minimalism.
4) Your sacred space should be a reflection of YOU and any one else the space is meant for. Don't add something to it simply because it's pretty, add something because it serves a specific purpose for your grounding, healing, etc, whatever it is you need to have happen in your space. Example: As you may have noticed I have a lot of books. They have been a blanket of safety for me as long as I can remember, so naturally, they are an important element in my sacred bedroom space. However, my bedroom also needs to be a sacred space for the man I share it with, and so I tried to include things that were reflections of him as well. The shelf to the left of the bed is dedicated entirely to his things, and he also has things included among my book shelves. In the end, a space was created that can be sacred for both of us.
5) Once your sacred space is created, consciously take the time to actually use the space. Don't allow it to fade in to the background of everything else in the hope. Take the time to breath deeply and meditate in your space for at least five minutes every day. No matter how busy we are, we can always find five minutes.
Where is your sacred space?
If you don't already have one, I hope I've given you some ideas and you'll have one soon!
I strive to make our home one of these safe havens, not only for me, but for everyone who finds themselves under our roof. I like to think I do a pretty good job. However, I've tried to take things a step further and not only make my home a safe space, but also one of sacred spaces.
A while back I created a personal altar in my living room to serve as such a space. It's on the wall right next to my rocking chair where I can almost always be found sitting if I''m in the living room.
It is my sacred space where I can breath and find me again. I've done a lot of healing in the space as I experienced one miscarriage after another. Occasionally I remove and add items. The altar experience change as I change.
Much more recently I set out to make mine and Brenan's bedroom a sacred space. After all, it's where I hope to conceive, and even birth our next child. I'm no interior designer and I think it still needs a few finishing touches, but I'm pleased with how it turned out.
The view as you walk in
I find myself drawn to my bedroom far more than I ever was before. It is a room where my soul and body can come to rest. A room worthy of bringing new life in to this world.
After such a process, I have a few tips for anyone wanting to create their own sacred spaces whether it be an altar or an entire room.
1) Decide what you need from a sacred space. Does it need to be a place for meditation, yoga, or a visual affirmation? Is there a particular theme you'd like your space to have? Example: my living room altar was created to help me heal and move on (as much as anyone can) from my miscarriages. It had a place for incense, painting I had done while meditating on my grief, and other mementos that hold great symbolism for me. I choose to place it in an area I could see often through out my day and next to my favorite seat in the house.
2) Use what you have. The base can be anything, a shelf, dresser, side table, or an entire room. There's no need to run out and spend money buying new things for your space. More often than not, we already have important symbolic items scattered around our house, tucked away in drawers and boxes. This is an opportunity to bring them out to be a constant source of positive energy. Other times altar pieces can be items you created your self, this allows them to have more personal meaning. About half of everything on my personal altar was created by me, the other half were items I already had, or that have come to me through healing circles, as gifts, or I've found in nature. However, there are a few things that I've bought because when I picked them up my spirit refused to be separated, or because I specifically went out looking for such an item for it's symbolism. My point is, no matter your financial situation, you CAN create a sacred space.
3) Simple is almost always better. Our lives are already so crazy, it's nice to take the craziness out of our sacred space by airing on the side of minimalism.
4) Your sacred space should be a reflection of YOU and any one else the space is meant for. Don't add something to it simply because it's pretty, add something because it serves a specific purpose for your grounding, healing, etc, whatever it is you need to have happen in your space. Example: As you may have noticed I have a lot of books. They have been a blanket of safety for me as long as I can remember, so naturally, they are an important element in my sacred bedroom space. However, my bedroom also needs to be a sacred space for the man I share it with, and so I tried to include things that were reflections of him as well. The shelf to the left of the bed is dedicated entirely to his things, and he also has things included among my book shelves. In the end, a space was created that can be sacred for both of us.
5) Once your sacred space is created, consciously take the time to actually use the space. Don't allow it to fade in to the background of everything else in the hope. Take the time to breath deeply and meditate in your space for at least five minutes every day. No matter how busy we are, we can always find five minutes.
Where is your sacred space?
If you don't already have one, I hope I've given you some ideas and you'll have one soon!
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Four Lost Babies: F***ing Miscarriages
I wrote this for Brenan a few weeks ago so that he could understand where I'm at. It was meant to be personal and private. I choose to share it now so that others who have felt this pain might know that they are not alone, and for those who may not have experienced this but wish to be able to understand loved ones who have.
I don't really want more kids, not really. I'd love to birth at least one more baby, but grow it and raise it, I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that again. I already have 5 children, my family is plenty big, and yet so very lonesome and small.
I was tentatively ready for my second child. I felt his presence several days before his Daddy and I rejoiced over a positive pregnancy test. But despite our joy, I felt restrained, and told Brenan we should wait to tell people. The next day I tested again...5 times and only two came out positive. My stomach sank. Part of me wanted to convince myself it was just because it was early, but the rest of me knew: this child wasn't here to stay. I didn't cry when he left, but there was a dull ache in my heart that still hasn't gone away.
After his passing, I chased after children. I NEEDED another baby like I needed to breathe . I was ready in every way that I could be ready. Come October I got that feeling again, I felt a precious little baby girl merge with my soul. A few days later I took the leap and peed on a stick: it was positive and we were so happy. I'd already had one miscarriage and so surely I had no reason to fear with this one. Once again, we held off on the news, but a week later with pregnancy ailments setting in and excitement that made us feel like we would explode if we kept it in any longer, we decided to share the news with our immediate family. Three days later I had some light spotting in the morning. I told myself spotting is normal in pregnancy and went about my day like things were normal, but fear creeped in. The next day blood still spotted my panty liner, and it was getting heavier. I sobbed all through the night. I knew my little girl was leaving and there was nothing I could do to save her. For weeks and months after I would be overcome by debilitating sobs that took control of my entire being. Two lost children. Two nameless babies I would never hold in my arms, two lives that no one knew about, and no one mourned.
After this pain, I gave up hope of ever holding one of my own babies ever again. I knew two miscarriages didn't mean anything so final, but the deep carnal part of my soul spoke otherwise, and so when I felt the spirit of my 4th baby I braced myself for the inevitable. I started bleeding within hours of the positive test and told no one. "It's just a regular period" I tried to lie to myself.
But it didn't stop me from wanting to spew hate in to the universe. I cringed at any mention of trying for another kid. But what kind of good Mormon wife and mother would I be if I stopped at one living child? So I trudged on. Until last month when I became overwhelmed with the fear of another miscarriage. I felt certain that if I didn't actively prevent pregnancy that month I would become pregnant, and I WOULD lose yet another sweet child. I expressed my fears and my desires and they were brushed aside until finally I choose to ignore them myself.
Then that feeling came, I knew I was pregnant as once again I felt the presence of a precious spirit. I remember the exact moment we said hello as I drove to a girls night outing. I began smiling. I've always enjoyed feeling my children's presence. It's so very real. But as I smiled and recognized what was, It was all I could do to keep the waves of fear and grief locked away. A little over a week later I was several days late with my very punctual menstrual cycle when heavy cramping and bleeding set in. It could only mean one thing. I couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer.
I HATED this!!! I screamed profanities in to my tear soaked pillow as my one living child sat by my side, looking on with sad and questioning eyes. I KNEW this was going to happen, and I resented my husband for not letting me prevent it, while simultaneously desperately wishing he was there to wrap me in his arms.
My friends came to my aid though, taking me out to dinner and staying up late with me in my living room talking about anything and everything but babies and fucking miscarriages. But when two am came with their hugs and goodbyes, I crawled in to bed and was greeted by debilitating grief once again.
Then morning came, and I felt like I had regained just enough strength to survive the day, and I was met with more crippling news. I went numb. Silent tears leaked from my eyes off and on for most the day, but I honestly didn't feel much of anything. My emotions had involuntarily been whisked away, but whenever they showed signs of sneaking back in I fought hard to banish them once again. I didn't want to feel.
Brenan came home and I wanted more than anything to just forget my sorrow and leave my mourning behind. But whenever Brenan pulled me in to his arms I would feel myself sinking in to the comfort and then instantly recoil as waves of fury and grief rocketed through my body.
After several days of hiding from emotions, I allowed some of the sorrow and anger to stay with me, I let it slowly seep in and I cried silently through out the night and woke with red-rimmed eyes.
Both our parents were in town for Brenan's graduation and so we put on happy faces. I didn't visibly withdraw from family through out the day because it WAS a special weekend for everyone. Brenan and Travis (his brother) were graduating. I didn't want to spoil it despite the fact I was dying inside . I also didn't want to have to explain anything to anyone.
That week was awful, that week was unbearable! I died that week and yet today I'm still breathing, today I still manage to find joy. Grief and misery, and suffocating sorrow over my lost children still pounce on me fairly regularly, but mostly I find myself wrestling with other struggles. Like the overwhelming coldness I feel towards any and all babies. My intense relief at NOT having a newborn right now and having no signs of one any time soon. I honestly like my life a lot right now. I really like our earthly family of three, though I ache to hold the four that will never call me mommy in this lifetime. I'm a mother to five, yet the world will only recognize the one. I always wanted at least five, perhaps that's why more and more I feel like I'm done.
I have my five. I don't want to experience the roller coaster of having and then losing yet another. I feel their presence so intensely that it would be impossible not to be overwhelmed with grief when their short lives are over. It's a blessing and a horrible burden. A burden that I will break under if I have to experience yet another miscarriage any time soon.
Words of comfort make me feel as though the wind has been knocked out of me. Don't fucking tell me God will send me a baby when I'm ready for it. You might as well say "you're not ready for a baby so God let yours die." Don't fucking tell me this will make me stronger. Don't fucking tell me everything will work out in the end. Don't fucking tell me there's a reason for everything and it's all part of God's plan. What I need is someone to wrap me in their arms and tell me life is shit and unfair and weep from the depths of their soul as I do the same.
I'm not ready to move on, and even when I am the pain will always be there. I need it to always be there because it's all I have left of my 4 lost babies.
I don't really want more kids, not really. I'd love to birth at least one more baby, but grow it and raise it, I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that again. I already have 5 children, my family is plenty big, and yet so very lonesome and small.
I was tentatively ready for my second child. I felt his presence several days before his Daddy and I rejoiced over a positive pregnancy test. But despite our joy, I felt restrained, and told Brenan we should wait to tell people. The next day I tested again...5 times and only two came out positive. My stomach sank. Part of me wanted to convince myself it was just because it was early, but the rest of me knew: this child wasn't here to stay. I didn't cry when he left, but there was a dull ache in my heart that still hasn't gone away.
After his passing, I chased after children. I NEEDED another baby like I needed to breathe . I was ready in every way that I could be ready. Come October I got that feeling again, I felt a precious little baby girl merge with my soul. A few days later I took the leap and peed on a stick: it was positive and we were so happy. I'd already had one miscarriage and so surely I had no reason to fear with this one. Once again, we held off on the news, but a week later with pregnancy ailments setting in and excitement that made us feel like we would explode if we kept it in any longer, we decided to share the news with our immediate family. Three days later I had some light spotting in the morning. I told myself spotting is normal in pregnancy and went about my day like things were normal, but fear creeped in. The next day blood still spotted my panty liner, and it was getting heavier. I sobbed all through the night. I knew my little girl was leaving and there was nothing I could do to save her. For weeks and months after I would be overcome by debilitating sobs that took control of my entire being. Two lost children. Two nameless babies I would never hold in my arms, two lives that no one knew about, and no one mourned.
After this pain, I gave up hope of ever holding one of my own babies ever again. I knew two miscarriages didn't mean anything so final, but the deep carnal part of my soul spoke otherwise, and so when I felt the spirit of my 4th baby I braced myself for the inevitable. I started bleeding within hours of the positive test and told no one. "It's just a regular period" I tried to lie to myself.
But it didn't stop me from wanting to spew hate in to the universe. I cringed at any mention of trying for another kid. But what kind of good Mormon wife and mother would I be if I stopped at one living child? So I trudged on. Until last month when I became overwhelmed with the fear of another miscarriage. I felt certain that if I didn't actively prevent pregnancy that month I would become pregnant, and I WOULD lose yet another sweet child. I expressed my fears and my desires and they were brushed aside until finally I choose to ignore them myself.
Then that feeling came, I knew I was pregnant as once again I felt the presence of a precious spirit. I remember the exact moment we said hello as I drove to a girls night outing. I began smiling. I've always enjoyed feeling my children's presence. It's so very real. But as I smiled and recognized what was, It was all I could do to keep the waves of fear and grief locked away. A little over a week later I was several days late with my very punctual menstrual cycle when heavy cramping and bleeding set in. It could only mean one thing. I couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer.
I HATED this!!! I screamed profanities in to my tear soaked pillow as my one living child sat by my side, looking on with sad and questioning eyes. I KNEW this was going to happen, and I resented my husband for not letting me prevent it, while simultaneously desperately wishing he was there to wrap me in his arms.
My friends came to my aid though, taking me out to dinner and staying up late with me in my living room talking about anything and everything but babies and fucking miscarriages. But when two am came with their hugs and goodbyes, I crawled in to bed and was greeted by debilitating grief once again.
Then morning came, and I felt like I had regained just enough strength to survive the day, and I was met with more crippling news. I went numb. Silent tears leaked from my eyes off and on for most the day, but I honestly didn't feel much of anything. My emotions had involuntarily been whisked away, but whenever they showed signs of sneaking back in I fought hard to banish them once again. I didn't want to feel.
Brenan came home and I wanted more than anything to just forget my sorrow and leave my mourning behind. But whenever Brenan pulled me in to his arms I would feel myself sinking in to the comfort and then instantly recoil as waves of fury and grief rocketed through my body.
After several days of hiding from emotions, I allowed some of the sorrow and anger to stay with me, I let it slowly seep in and I cried silently through out the night and woke with red-rimmed eyes.
Both our parents were in town for Brenan's graduation and so we put on happy faces. I didn't visibly withdraw from family through out the day because it WAS a special weekend for everyone. Brenan and Travis (his brother) were graduating. I didn't want to spoil it despite the fact I was dying inside . I also didn't want to have to explain anything to anyone.
That week was awful, that week was unbearable! I died that week and yet today I'm still breathing, today I still manage to find joy. Grief and misery, and suffocating sorrow over my lost children still pounce on me fairly regularly, but mostly I find myself wrestling with other struggles. Like the overwhelming coldness I feel towards any and all babies. My intense relief at NOT having a newborn right now and having no signs of one any time soon. I honestly like my life a lot right now. I really like our earthly family of three, though I ache to hold the four that will never call me mommy in this lifetime. I'm a mother to five, yet the world will only recognize the one. I always wanted at least five, perhaps that's why more and more I feel like I'm done.
I have my five. I don't want to experience the roller coaster of having and then losing yet another. I feel their presence so intensely that it would be impossible not to be overwhelmed with grief when their short lives are over. It's a blessing and a horrible burden. A burden that I will break under if I have to experience yet another miscarriage any time soon.
Words of comfort make me feel as though the wind has been knocked out of me. Don't fucking tell me God will send me a baby when I'm ready for it. You might as well say "you're not ready for a baby so God let yours die." Don't fucking tell me this will make me stronger. Don't fucking tell me everything will work out in the end. Don't fucking tell me there's a reason for everything and it's all part of God's plan. What I need is someone to wrap me in their arms and tell me life is shit and unfair and weep from the depths of their soul as I do the same.
I'm not ready to move on, and even when I am the pain will always be there. I need it to always be there because it's all I have left of my 4 lost babies.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Objectification: it hurts me, it hurts my child, it's a silent poison to all of us.
I've been spending a lot of time recently wondering what kind of world Italia is going to grow up in. I can't even begin to imagine what technology is going to be like when she's my age, what state our economy will be in, who will be running the political field, etc. However, what I find myself dwelling on most, is how she will be effected by her female genitals.
Our country has come so far in the past 100 years. Women can vote, own property, run multi-million dollar companies, and do so much more in so many ways. Yet, in the past few years I've become more and more aware of one area where women are suffering greatly: female objectification. To objectify a person means that they are made to appear as an inanimate object. When it comes to women, there is almost always a sexual aspect to this. Marketing, movies, TV shows, they are all full of female sexual objectification in which women appear as nothing more than dehumanized sexual "things" to be acted upon. If female objectification is a new concept to you, or you simply want to learn more about it, this article is great at explaining how to recognize it.
Our culture is flooded in female objectification, and I'm terrified at the thought of my sweet little girl being one of its victims. It's so pervasive that few people see the damage it causes, but those that understand the dangers of sexual objectification know that it goes hand in hand with rape culture (read this for an explanation of what rape culture is). We are so used to seeing this objectification that when I point it out, people rarely understand why it is so disturbing. One example that comes to mind is the Fast and the Furious movies. They are wildly entertaining, and yet, it's littered with "sexy" women that add absolutely nothing to the story, never even speaking, they are there purely to provide visual pleasure for the heterosexual male viewers. After watching the newest of these movies with several men, I mentioned that this movie seemed to objectify women even more than the previous ones, and while they very readily agreed with me, they failed to see why this was an issue I was concerned about. They didn't understand that the more they see women as sexual objects in the media, the more likely they are to view the women they encounter as sexual objects.
It's hard for even the best of people not to be effected by near constant exposure to these images. One example of this that has long been a thorn in my side is how men and women a like feel the need to comment on whether or not an actress is "hot" or "ugly." Apparently it is unacceptable in our culture for an actress to play a leading role if they are not at least an "8." Yes, girls like to giggle over the sexy actors as well, I'll admit, I drool over Thor every chance I get, BUT I'm not in the least bit bothered by watching a movie staring an actor such as Jack Black, or Adam Sandler. They have their own quirky, endearing qualities that make them attractive in their own rights. So why is it that whenever Drew Barrymore (an actress that I personally love) comes up in conversation, without fail, some boy feels the need to speak negatively of her looks as though that somehow plays a role in determining how good an actress she is? Female Sexual Objectification is the culprit. The media has taught us that women are to be viewed first and foremost as sexual objects, therefore an actress MUST be visually sexually gratifying to be a good actress. This means that if you're not down right "gorgeous" by cultural standards and you dream of being an actress, you better be happy with only ever being cast as the comedic relief. But I'm not worried about this objectification because I think it will hurt Tali's future acting career, I have much more leering concerns.
This objectification effects every women. Why do women feel the need to waste hours of their life remaining hair-free every where but their head? Female Sexual Objectification. Why do women waste thousands of dollars and countless hours covering up their natural beauty with foundations, bronzers, highlighters and blush? Female Sexual Objectification. We have been taught our whole lives that we need to be "pretty." We try so hard to fit ourselves into this very narrow mold of how we believe we're supposed to look. Hairy legs are not "sexy," blond eye lashes do not make for "flirty" eyes and if you glow in the dark you better be hitting the tanning bed the first chance you get! How comfortable you feel in those skinny jeans does not matter so long as they make your butt look perky. How much it hurts when you get that bikini wax is insignificant so long as it makes your partner happy. I hope the absurdity of these last statements is wildly obvious. What women want and feel IS important, far more important than how we will be sexually percieved. Doing something uncomfortable, or down right painful for the soul purpose of "improving" our appearance is wrong, Yet here we are. You'd be hard pressed to find a girl that had never done something they didn't like for no other reason than wanting to be sexier. You'd be hard pressed to find a girl that wasn't doing something they didn't like for the soul purpose of being "prettier" every day of her life. We are so used to it that we've convinced ourselves that we don't mind, that we'er doing it for "us" (not the boy we flirt with in gym class, or the one we call husband).
Yet, even this is not what troubles me most about our objectifying culture. What keeps me up at night is the teenage boys that molest a female peer and come out as the "victims" in the media because they're future football careers are ruined. Meanwhile the girl who's seeking justice for the horrible violation done to her body is the slut that was asking for it. When a woman is made in to an object, things are done TO her. Objects are meant to be used and discarded. Objects are not people, they're tools. Objects have no rights. Women are NOT objects. My daughter is a PERSON and she deserves to grow up in a world where that fact is not undermined in the slightest. That world does not exist. That world may never exist.
Women will never stop being objects so long as individuals continuely refuse to see it as a problem. Recognize this poison. Acknowledge it. Demand change from those around you and slowly, women will become people again.
Yet, even this is not what troubles me most about our objectifying culture. What keeps me up at night is the teenage boys that molest a female peer and come out as the "victims" in the media because they're future football careers are ruined. Meanwhile the girl who's seeking justice for the horrible violation done to her body is the slut that was asking for it. When a woman is made in to an object, things are done TO her. Objects are meant to be used and discarded. Objects are not people, they're tools. Objects have no rights. Women are NOT objects. My daughter is a PERSON and she deserves to grow up in a world where that fact is not undermined in the slightest. That world does not exist. That world may never exist.
Women will never stop being objects so long as individuals continuely refuse to see it as a problem. Recognize this poison. Acknowledge it. Demand change from those around you and slowly, women will become people again.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Tea, GLORIOUS tea! Female Tea blend recipe included
Side-note, Rachel needle felted the stages of a flower growing from a seed to maturity around my cozy. Talented Woman!
It was actually Rachel that really got me loving tea when she came over at a time she knew I was in sorrow, mourning a heartbreaking miscarriage (the most recent of several) and brewed me a cup of what I can only describe as a tea that speaks to my soul. For the blend, check out her blog. The next day I went out and bought all the supplies to make the tea myself and drank several cups every day for nearly a month, at which point I began to branch out. The key, I've found is chocolate. Some people (silly people) have cream pitchers and sugar bowls, but not me. I have hot chocolate mix and rich chocolate almond milk. I always, AWAYS cut my tea with one or the other, save for the rare occasion that I simply mix in a scoop of honey.
Today was another turning point for me and it all began with Good Earth (for some crazy outrageous reason) no longer carrying my go-to Female Toner tea by traditional medicinals. I usually go through a box (or two or five..) of Female Toner a month. Good Earth's failure was quite distressing as I had no intention of going anywhere else before Christmas that would have my tea in stock. While crying in distress (ok, wandering in annoyance) I happened to notice they finally had some loose Leaf red raspberry leaf in stock which gave me a glorious idea to blend my own female tea. I knew the basic ingredients of the Traditional Medicinals brand and began grabbing every loose herb I could find that I knew was good for female reproductive health and relaxation.
When I got home, I mixed it all together and came up with a tea far tastier than any medicinal blend I've ever had (I say "medicinal," because, let's face it, you really can't beat cinnamon apple chai for flavor...). Rachel was over this afternoon and as we usually do, I put on a pot of tea. She graciously tested my blend and applauded my prowess. Due to my need to gloat and share I have written up the recipe for you to all make and enjoy yourselves. And don't forget to mix in some chocolate almond milk!
RECIPE:
1/2 cp raspberry leaf
1/3 cp peppermint
1/4 cp lavender
1/4 cp chamomile
1/4 cp nettle
1/4 cp ginger root
2 tbls rose hip
2 tbl licorice root
Mix well and store in air-tight container
Brew ten minutes before serving
1 tbls= 1 serving
Your blend should look something like this:
The extra nice thing about this tea in comparison to Female Toner is it not only tastes better, but is much more cost effective as well! I spent around $20 (the cost of 4 boxes of FT) and got about 6 months worth of tea! (That's drinking at least one pot a day).
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Instinct Parenting: you parent your way and I'll parent mine
I am an attachment parent. I wish there was a better term to describe it, somehow that term seems to have a negative connotation in our society. You're always being warned "don't get to attached" even when it comes to parents and children: "she's to attached to her dad..." as if that's somehow a bad thing, for a two year old to lovingly cling to her daddy.
We're told as parents that we need to start teaching our children to be independent as early as eight weeks old, thanks to teachings of "experts" such as Dr. Ferber and Mr. Ezzo. I once stumbled across a question on yahoo that asked "Is 8 weeks to early to let my baby cry it out? How long should I let him cry? I don't want to let him grow up to be a brat." Somehow western culture has come to believe that unless forced to be independent as babies, we'll all grow up into bratty, dependent "adults" which just isn't true. This mother went on to describe that she hated to listen to her baby cry, didn't want to listen to her baby cry, and yet she "knew" it was for the better. Our culture had taught her that it was necessary to ignore her instinct to sooth her crying baby in order to teach independence. Babies are SUPPOSED to be dependent, it's their natural instinct to cry when they realize they're all alone. I could go on with lots and lots of statistics, examples of other cultures, and so forth, but I wont. That's not the point of these ponderings.
My point is, I realize I'm different, and I'm proud of that. I co-sleep, cloth diaper, forgo vaccinations, birth at home, babywear, natural-term breastfeed (and in public too!) and so much more that is not a part of the mainstream. I don't believe that I would be a better parent to your child, but I do believe I'm the best parent for mine. I have nothing against parents who make different choices than my own, my frustration is when parents ignore their own instincts and blindly make choices based solely on the words of their Pediatrician, mother, or what "everyone else is doing." Sometimes parents feel they don't have many instinctual impressions, and I think this comes from a lack of knowledge. How can your instincts guide you in a decision when you don't even realize there are other options that require an actual choice to be made?
I heavily research EVERYTHING. That's what I do. In college I was an English major and a history minor. I learned how to research and it's an obsession that's stayed with me. It is this obsession that has helped form the mother that I am. And yet, I too, have fallen prey to "parental blindness" on several occasions. **This next example I give as a personal experience, so please don't feel I'm pointing fingers at anyone calling them bad parents for making a different choice than I have made** If my daughter had been born a boy, I can almost guarantee she would have been circumcised as a two week old. I can also guarantee that had that happened, I would have very soon after regretted it and shed many tears over my decision. A decision that I've now come to realize is a decision I have no right to make for any child. I blindly believed all the myths that I'd only ever heard via word of mouth. My brothers were circumcised, my husband is circumcised, my dad, grandpas, pretty much everyone I knew was circumcised. Therefore, it must be for a good, unavoidable reason, right? I had no idea that leaving a boy intact was even a viable option. I had no idea that there was a decision to be made. Circumcision was simply something every boy had to go through whether they were 1 day old, 10, or 50; they could not escape it. Then one day a graphic popped up in my Facebook news feed concerning circumcision. I don't remember what it said, but I do remember instantly agreeing with it, despite the fact that it expressed a notion that I'd never even heard of. I suddenly had no desire to ever cut any future sons I might have. My brain fought the notion, and yet somehow I clung to it just the same. My motherly instinct had spoken.
From there, I set out to see what the research had to say. I trusted my instinctual decision, but I always liked to know whether or not facts were on my side. They were. I've come to see that when you're trusting you're instincts, facts, statistics, etc, usually are backing you up, even if you don't yet know it yourself. However, there are always exceptions to every rule. Perhaps your son is one of the rare <1% that legitimately needed to be circumcised and your instincts, prompting of the holy spirit, whatever you want to call it, told you that for your case, circumcision was necessary. Breastfeeding is heavily supported by the facts and is an absolutely wonderful way to feed your child and I hope every mom very seriously considers it; however, that still does not mean it's the best option for every mother and baby. No matter what the studies, the media, your parents, your in-laws, your doctor, or your neighbors say: trust in yourself above everything else when it comes to your own child.
I trust in my instincts and my God to mother my child. They have made me in to one crunchy, highly attached parent and I stand firmly in my choices. In turn, I trust you to make the best decisions for your own family too.
Oh, and in case your interested, I may occasionally overload your news feed with articles and graphics I found interesting or helpful on the off chance you might too :)
We're told as parents that we need to start teaching our children to be independent as early as eight weeks old, thanks to teachings of "experts" such as Dr. Ferber and Mr. Ezzo. I once stumbled across a question on yahoo that asked "Is 8 weeks to early to let my baby cry it out? How long should I let him cry? I don't want to let him grow up to be a brat." Somehow western culture has come to believe that unless forced to be independent as babies, we'll all grow up into bratty, dependent "adults" which just isn't true. This mother went on to describe that she hated to listen to her baby cry, didn't want to listen to her baby cry, and yet she "knew" it was for the better. Our culture had taught her that it was necessary to ignore her instinct to sooth her crying baby in order to teach independence. Babies are SUPPOSED to be dependent, it's their natural instinct to cry when they realize they're all alone. I could go on with lots and lots of statistics, examples of other cultures, and so forth, but I wont. That's not the point of these ponderings.
My point is, I realize I'm different, and I'm proud of that. I co-sleep, cloth diaper, forgo vaccinations, birth at home, babywear, natural-term breastfeed (and in public too!) and so much more that is not a part of the mainstream. I don't believe that I would be a better parent to your child, but I do believe I'm the best parent for mine. I have nothing against parents who make different choices than my own, my frustration is when parents ignore their own instincts and blindly make choices based solely on the words of their Pediatrician, mother, or what "everyone else is doing." Sometimes parents feel they don't have many instinctual impressions, and I think this comes from a lack of knowledge. How can your instincts guide you in a decision when you don't even realize there are other options that require an actual choice to be made?
I heavily research EVERYTHING. That's what I do. In college I was an English major and a history minor. I learned how to research and it's an obsession that's stayed with me. It is this obsession that has helped form the mother that I am. And yet, I too, have fallen prey to "parental blindness" on several occasions. **This next example I give as a personal experience, so please don't feel I'm pointing fingers at anyone calling them bad parents for making a different choice than I have made** If my daughter had been born a boy, I can almost guarantee she would have been circumcised as a two week old. I can also guarantee that had that happened, I would have very soon after regretted it and shed many tears over my decision. A decision that I've now come to realize is a decision I have no right to make for any child. I blindly believed all the myths that I'd only ever heard via word of mouth. My brothers were circumcised, my husband is circumcised, my dad, grandpas, pretty much everyone I knew was circumcised. Therefore, it must be for a good, unavoidable reason, right? I had no idea that leaving a boy intact was even a viable option. I had no idea that there was a decision to be made. Circumcision was simply something every boy had to go through whether they were 1 day old, 10, or 50; they could not escape it. Then one day a graphic popped up in my Facebook news feed concerning circumcision. I don't remember what it said, but I do remember instantly agreeing with it, despite the fact that it expressed a notion that I'd never even heard of. I suddenly had no desire to ever cut any future sons I might have. My brain fought the notion, and yet somehow I clung to it just the same. My motherly instinct had spoken.
From there, I set out to see what the research had to say. I trusted my instinctual decision, but I always liked to know whether or not facts were on my side. They were. I've come to see that when you're trusting you're instincts, facts, statistics, etc, usually are backing you up, even if you don't yet know it yourself. However, there are always exceptions to every rule. Perhaps your son is one of the rare <1% that legitimately needed to be circumcised and your instincts, prompting of the holy spirit, whatever you want to call it, told you that for your case, circumcision was necessary. Breastfeeding is heavily supported by the facts and is an absolutely wonderful way to feed your child and I hope every mom very seriously considers it; however, that still does not mean it's the best option for every mother and baby. No matter what the studies, the media, your parents, your in-laws, your doctor, or your neighbors say: trust in yourself above everything else when it comes to your own child.
I trust in my instincts and my God to mother my child. They have made me in to one crunchy, highly attached parent and I stand firmly in my choices. In turn, I trust you to make the best decisions for your own family too.
Oh, and in case your interested, I may occasionally overload your news feed with articles and graphics I found interesting or helpful on the off chance you might too :)
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