CurrentMom

Days of the Living Dead

Therapy Tuesday
Photo by: Library of Congress

Recently, the news speaks about real life “zombies”--people that consume the flesh of others of their species. Certainly these stories are gruesome and sensational. I would make the argument that their premise is true and shouldn’t really be a surprise.

 There are zombies among us. We see them at work or at the grocery store. They walk their children in strollers. They go to our shops, parks, and areas of play. They blend in seamlessly. I’m sure that no one can really identify who amongst them is a zombie.

I’m not talking about literal brain-eating members of the undead, but zombies of a different type. These “zombies” are the bereaved. They are the people who have lost a loved one, yet are required by our aversion to death kind of society to function normally. But if you look closely, you can tell. The person who has lost some “spark” in their expressions. Who laughs perhaps a nanosecond too late. When asked directly, they might mention their loss, and then this gap is suddenly understood.

 A subset of the bereaved are a more complicated group of zombies: those that have lost a pregnancy. For this smaller group, society has no language or words for them. We have no context. Death is supposed to occur after a long life. Parents outlive their children, as that is considered to be the natural order of things. While early pregnancy loss is considered by doctors to be common (between 10-25% of pregnancies end in loss^[1]), the emotions that follow are anything but.

 The most difficult thing for bereaved parents-to-be is to convey or justify their upset around the loss of possibility, rather than actuality. The loss of an elder parent is something that is shared: a community comes together, they speak and offer comfort to one another, and collective memories are shared. There is a celebration of the life that was. But in a pregnancy loss, how can you share in the mourning of a life that wasn’t?

 It is common for people that have experienced pregnancy loss to feel disconnected from their friends who haven’t had such a loss. While friends try to offer support, there can be a wide gap between what is offered to be helpful and how it is received. What is thought to be words of comfort, such as, “You’re young. You’ll have another” isn’t always received in the way that it was intended.  Many people feel uncomfortable around pregnancy loss and don’t know what to say or how to handle it, thus they opt to stay silent. This tactic also marginalizes those that have lost these babies-to-be.

 An amazing thing that commonly occurs is that other losses are offered and seemingly come “out of the woodwork.” It is not surprising to hear from family and friends about their early losses. Such “sisterhood” can be a double-edged sword: while it is important to feel normalized in this loss, the fact that the loss had been hidden speaks to how secretive we are as a society around pregnancy loss.

 More complicated can be later pregnancy losses or ones that occur after a woman is visibly pregnant and has been talking openly about her plans for this child. Women who have a later loss can feel like a pariah as people wonder what happened. After the initial loss, many women who are open find that they have support offered from expected and sometimes unlikely sources. As time passes, support and expressed remembrances from others dwindle, as the loss becomes privatized within a couple. Often times, the couple doesn’t want to hold the loss between them, but don’t know how to reach out to others in order to share it.

 So the next time you go out to the store, know that someone you see will be a zombie—trying to blend in and just get through the day, sometimes one minute at a time.

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^[1]  http://www.americanpregnancy.org/pregnancycomplications/miscarriage.html

A Belated Father's Day Ode - To My Husband and Son

Truth Thursday

I’m writing this two days before Father’s Day, and two minutes after my husband and oldest son left for a road trip to Ohio to visit a couple of colleges in which my son is interested. The look on my son’s face as they pulled out of the driveway was a mixture of boredom, sleep deprivation, and fear – and I imagine the fear was a combination of the first foray into the college application process, the prospect of doing a lot of the driving on this trip (especially in his dad’s car, which he has not yet driven) and, needless to say, and perhaps most frightening of all, the prospect of spending an entire weekend with his dad.

For what teenager wants to spend endless hours with a boring, annoying grownup? 

On the other side of the car windows, I watched them drive off with a mixture of pride, love and fear as well. So proud of my teen, because he just completed the most difficult and ultimately most successful semester of his school career. Those of my readers who know me and this child will understand what an accomplishment this is.

If I may indulge in a smidgen of mom-boasting for a moment – not only did he hold down several jobs (a monthly paper route, being an assistant teacher in our synagogue’s religious school, and, perhaps most impressive of all, a 4-hour-a-day grunt job in a tax firm after school during tax season, as well as running the school store) but he did all this while nailing a great report card. Although I had always assumed that I would have a naturally high achieving, school-oriented child, my son had other plans, and for many years, a report card like this was not something to be taken for granted, let alone be expected.

So yes, I am very proud of him. And I love him deeply, in ways he probably won’t ever understand, for not only is he my beloved boy, my oldest child, and the receptacle of many of my earliest parenting dreams, but he also, by being something and someone completely different from what I expected, has taught me a million life lessons about being tolerant and patient, frustrated and unhappy, understanding and yet uncomprehending, loving and questioning all at the same time.

In short, he has taught me how to be a mom.

Daddy the Super Hero

Therapy Tuesday
Photo by: Julie

Typically, this blog focuses on moms.  Today, we are shifting to dad. We expect a lot from our dads. They are the providers. They make us feel secure in a warm embrace. They clean up our messes (literally and figuratively). For all of this and more, we give them one day to say thanks.

Often, women feel like they have the be the superhero in the family: many work, and then come home to The Job 2.0 (also known as children and the house). More and more households are feeling that the division of labor is more equal than in previous generations. Although, housework is still considered to be a major stressor in relationships. What gives with this shift?

Many women are demanding that their significant others pick up their weight--and not just in the traditional tasks of yard work or heavy lifting. There has been a cultural shift with men too in that they are being taught to be a part of the family unit, not just the co-creator of it. Men are getting more "down and dirty" with kids and being active with them from the delivery room on.

With such great changes coming at a cultural level, other shifts are resulting, such as more mental health issues in men. Typically, men are far less likely than women to seek out help if there is a mental health concern. They continue to have the antiquated tendency to "buck up" and deal with it. NIMH has recently come out with a brochure for what depression looks like in men.

It's interesting that we continue to put both genders on a pedestal with the expectation that one will be the superhero. Sometimes, this rotates within a family. Either way, it puts a lot of pressure on the parent who is wearing the "cape." Part of putting away the cape might be to expect more of your children when it comes to the daily chores. You would be surprised at what a 4-year-old is actually capable of doing (although I'm sure you will hear contrary from said 4-year-old).

Who wears the cape in your family?

Happy Father's Day, Working Dad!

Work Wednesday

Just in time for Father's Day, the magazine Working Mother has renamed its June-July issue Working Father. The front cover features a cute baby with an "I HEART U Daddy" onesie and the tantalizing headline, "How Dad Does It." (Spoiler: The magazine doesn't actually tell you how dad does it. Sadly, these kinds of articles never do!)

According to Working Mother Editorial Director Jennifer Owens, the magazine made the temporary change to its logo to recognize the important role that dads play in modern families. As she explained in a blog post in The Huffington Post, "Studies find that men are doing more hands-on parenting than ever before (9.6 hours per week versus 4.5 hours in 1995) and for the majority of married households with kids under the age of 18, both parents work. These days, the business of running a family plus two careers works best when carried by two sets of shoulders, side by side."

Inside, the magazine contains a few articles about working dads including the top ten lessons working moms can learn from the guys. These include such gems as "regular rough-and-tumble time" is "A-OK" (No. 1), "multitasking isn't always good" (No. 6) and "time for yourself is essential" (No. 7). Although these are, no doubt, good points, I'm not sure that the magazine, overall, is sending the right message.

For starters, the "Lessons From Working Dads" article begins this way:

He sends the kids to school with lunches sans key ingredients–like  anything resembling protein—and calmly heads to the office . . . on time. Right before bed, he riles them up with no-holds-barred wrestling bouts. And while you’re rushing around all weekend cleaning, shopping, emailing, multitasking, he’s reading the paper, watching the game, playing airplane with the baby. You know, chilling. Admit it: Don’t you sometimes wish your kids’ dad would act more like, well, a mom?

What?

The Mommy Gospel

Therapy Tuesday
Photo by: Wonderlane

Periodically, it seems that motherhood was actually inscribed as a "how to" manual, like The Bible. Of course, there are many interpretations, and many devotees proclaiming that they have The Answers if you follow their lead.

An example is the much ballyhooed article from last week in Time magazine, "Are You Mom Enough?" The picture on the cover provokes opinions around how long one should breastfeed. Additionally, it presents The Gospel of Sears. Or one parenting "manual" that focuses on attachment parenting. 

The trouble with manualizing parenting is that there really isn't one way to parent. In fact, many parents find that they have to shift their paradigm with different children. But Parenthood, being one of the ultimate contact sports (or at least comparative sports) likes to focus on the black and whiteness of it all. The good vs bad. Us vs them. Hmmm, dynamics that many of us try to NOT instill upon our children.

A problem with parenting is that there is no instruction book. Although, I like the idea that the OB/mid-wife/person who delivers the baby forgets to give you the personalized leaflet that is attached to the placenta. One thing that seems to make sense is "Do little harm." The reality is that we will all give our children memories that they wish they didn't have. There will be moments when, in retrospect, our kids will wonder what we were thinking or how they ever survived. (After all, some of us didn't need a car seat until we were 13 years old...) 

In other generalized guidelines, "Follow your gut...or don't." Some of us are more intuitive about parenting, while others need something more concrete. As there is no one right way, you pretty much can do as you want. Obviously, keeping kids safe is a priority (I'm not advocating neglegence) but safety is up to interpretation.

During the first few months of life, parents are caught up in the minutia of it all. Each wrong turn can seem monumental. When in fact, it doesn't really matter in the scheme of things. Bottle vs breast; how long to breast feed; working vs staying at home; sleep training vs not; co-sleeping vs crib sleeping. So many choices, which boil down to: what works for each individual family. The caveat: what worked with your first child when you were a family of three might not be replicable as a family of four. We all get to create our own Gospel According to Mom.