Maternal Digressions

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2007-07-20T23:11:00.000-05:00

Have you noticed any difference in the things other people (family, friends, or complete strangers) will feel comfortable saying to you while you're pregnant? Have you been a target of the 'parenting peanut gallery'?

Read more here...

The Observer and 21st Century Motherhood

2006-10-05T23:41:00.000-05:00

Last Sunday (October 1, 2006), the Magazine section of The Observer ran an excellent essay by Miranda Sawyer on being a mother in the 21st century. The essay is an introduction to a group of short profiles of mothers meant to showcase the many paths and faces of motherhood. A close friend who became a mother to a handsome boy this year sent me the essay, and it is still circulating by email. I thought I would post it here because, in contrast to the usual mother-guilt drivel that seems to replicate itself incessantly in the media, I found it honest and upbeat. This segment seems to be particularly on point:

The one thing that really irritates about becoming a mother is the assumption that your child wipes away what you were before. Though it's vast and important and utterly life-changing, though you move into another world and the door locks behind you, having a baby does not make you into a different person. You are still you. I am still me, I still have the same likes and dislikes, I still argue and engage with the same things, but I'm me with a 11-month-old son. As he grows and changes, so will I, but I won't become another person. I don't know how.

And, looking at him chowing down on the sofa arm, I know that he won't become someone else either. He might be young, but he is his own independent being, in and of himself. He's happily, obstinately, constantly doing his own thing. All I can do, as a mother, as a human being, is help him do it.

I hope you will enjoy it, and that there will be more essays like this in the future.

Worth More Than A Thousand Words

2006-09-13T23:32:00.001-05:00

An interesting discussion has been going on about a photograph taken on 9/11, and though it isn’t directly related to the topics I usually cover, I think it brings an excellent issue to the forefront: namely, the power of images and how easily they lend themselves to manipulation.

On September 10, Frank Rich of the New York Times wrote the following about a photograph taken on 9/11 in his column “Whatever Happened to the America of 9/12?”. (You can see the photograph by clicking on either one of the links to the Slate articles below, which is easier than finding it through the book website mentioned in Rich's column.)

But there’s another taboo 9/11 photo, about life rather than death, that is equally shocking in its way, so much so that Thomas Hoepker of Magnum Photos kept it under wraps for four years. Mr. Hoepker’s picture can now be found in David Friend’s compelling new 9/11 book, “Watching the World Change,” or on the book’s Web site, watchingtheworldchange.com. It shows five young friends on the waterfront in Brooklyn, taking what seems to be a lunch or bike-riding break, enjoying the radiant late-summer sun and chatting away as cascades of smoke engulf Lower Manhattan in the background.

Mr. Hoepker found his subjects troubling. “They were totally relaxed like any normal afternoon,” he told Mr. Friend. “It’s possible they lost people and cared, but they were not stirred by it.” The photographer withheld the picture from publication because “we didn’t need to see that, then.” He feared “it would stir the wrong emotions.” But “over time, with perspective,” he discovered, “it grew in importance.”

Seen from the perspective of 9/11’s fifth anniversary, Mr. Hoepker’s photo is prescient as well as important — a snapshot of history soon to come. What he caught was this: Traumatic as the attack on America was, 9/11 would recede quickly for many. This is a country that likes to move on, and fast. The young people in Mr. Hoepker’s photo aren’t necessarily callous. They’re just American. In the five years since the attacks, the ability of Americans to dust themselves off and keep going explains both what’s gone right and what’s gone wrong on our path to the divided and dispirited state the nation finds itself in today.

I read this column on Sunday and was interested enough to follow the link at the website (and keep going and going) until I could see it for myself. Once I did, both Hoepker’s and Rich’s reading of the photograph struck me as odd and a bit dissonant. To be fair though, I assumed Hoepker had other reasons for his commentary and left it at that.

A few days later though, I came across this column in Slate magazine by David Plotz, titled “Frank Rich is Wrong About That 9/11 Photograph”, and was happily surprised to find a third reading of the photograph that articulated what had perhaps made me uncomfortable about the negative interpretations put forth by Hoepker and Rich. Here is the relevant passage:

But wait! Look at the photograph. Do you agree with Rich's account of it? Do these look like five New Yorkers who are "enjoying the radiant late-summer sun and chatting away"? Who have "move[d] on"? Who—in Rich's malicious, backhanded swipe—"aren't necessarily callous"? They don't to me. I wasn't there, and Hoepker was, so it may well be that they were just swapping stories about the Yankees. But I doubt it. The subjects are obviously engaged with each other, and they're almost certainly discussing the horrific event unfolding behind them. They have looked away from the towers for a moment not because they're bored with 9/11, but because they're citizens participating in the most important act in a democracy—civic debate.

Ask yourself: What are these five people doing out on the waterfront, anyway? Do you really think, as Rich suggests, that they are out for "a lunch or bike-riding break"? Of course not. They came to this spot to watch their country's history unfold and to be with each other at a time of national emergency. Short of rushing to Ground Zero and digging for bodies, how much more patriotic and concerned could they have been?

So they turned their backs on Manhattan for a second. A nice metaphor for Rich to exploit, but a cheap shot. I was in Washington on 9/11. I spent much of the day glued to my TV set, but I also spent it racing home to be with my infant daughter, calling my parents and New York relatives, and talking, talking, talking with colleagues and friends. Those discussions were exactly the kind of communal engagement I see in this photo. There is nothing "shocking" in this picture. These New Yorkers have not turned away from Manhattan because they have turned away from 9/11. They have turned away from Manhattan because they have turned toward each other for solace and for debate.

Rich and Hoepker and I have all characterized what these five people were doing and how they were feeling, but none of us really know. Wouldn't you like to hear from the five themselves? I would. If they're out there and they'd like to respond to Rich or me, they can e-mail me at plotzd@slate.com.

To my great delight, one of the five people in the photograph did find out about the controversy over the photograph and wrote back to Plotz. Slate has published Walter Sipser’s own account about the captured image in their latest article “It’s Me In That 9/11 Photo”.

A snapshot can make mourners attending a funeral look like they're having a party.

Thomas Hoepker took a photograph of my girlfriend and me sitting and talking with strangers against the backdrop of the smoking ruin of the World Trade Center on September 11th. Earlier, she and I had watched the buildings collapse from my rooftop in Brooklyn and had made our way down to the waterfront. The Williamsburg Bridge was filled with hundreds of people, covered in dust, helping one another make their way onto the street. It was clear that people who ordinarily would not have spoken two words to each another were suddenly bound together, which I suppose must be a fairly common occurrence in the aftermath of a catastrophe.

We were in a profound state of shock and disbelief, like everyone else we encountered that day. Thomas Hoepker did not ask permission to photograph us nor did he make any attempt to ascertain our state of mind before concluding five years later that, "It's possible they lost people and cared, but they were not stirred by it." Had Hoepker walked fifty feet over to introduce himself he would have discovered a bunch of New Yorkers in the middle of an animated discussion about what had just happened. He instead chose to publish the photograph that allowed him to draw the conclusions he wished to draw, conclusions that also led Frank Rich to write, "The young people in Mr. Hoepker's photo aren't necessarily callous. They're just American." A more honest conclusion might start by acknowledging just how easily a photograph can be manipulated, especially in the advancement of one's own biases or in the service of one's own career.

Still, it was nice being described as a young person. I was forty at the time the photograph was taken.

It should give us pause that a single image from 9/11 can be so easily transformed into four different meanings (so far) through the narratives of four viewers (one of whom is a participant). This highlights the problem of ascribing absolute meanings to images and of believing that a photograph (or for that matter video) is an objective recorder of life. Given the unrelenting use of images in our culture and the many agendas that they serve, it is to our advantage to process them critically, and to keep in mind that they are as subjective as words.

Recent news (and stay tuned for future postings)

2006-09-01T23:40:00.000-05:00

I am happy to be back after an unexpected hiatus during the month of August. Several recent stories are worth notice (and regrettably, I let a few pass by). A new study has found that Cesarean births triple the risk of maternal and infant death due to surgery-related complications. In an interesting follow-up to the recent push by the government and the medical establishment to promote exclusive breastfeeding, a New York Times article chronicles the vast differences in the opportunities and resources available to women in the workforce in order to pump their breast milk. It will come as no surprise that women in higher-income jobs have an easier time doing so (though I would venture to say, for many it is still far from ideal), whereas women in lower-income jobs face many more obstacles and are often forced to quit. Which brings us back to the same issue: rather than using guilt to promote guidelines, why not make sure that women, all women, have the support they need to succesfully breastfeed? Finally, over the last ten days Slate magazine has published two interesting articles, the first one on the sudden spike in the price of birth-control pills faced by thousands of family planning clinics in the United States, and the second one on the just-as-sudden price roll-back. I'll be back with more...

Capitalizing on boredom in The Daily Mail

2006-08-04T16:34:00.000-05:00

One of the pieces being discussed this week has been an article titled “Sorry, but my children bore me to death!” by Helen Kirwan-Taylor (July 26, 2006) in The Daily Mail. As could be expected from the title alone it has drawn many responses, and The Daily Mail itself published another article the next day “Why have children if you don’t like bringing them up?” that condensed much of the critique lobbied at Kirwan-Taylor. The newspaper’s swiftness in capitalizing on the controversy is emblematic of how many of these articles are really just bait, a way to get a polarizing, judgmental debate going. In this particular instance, the shiny, dangling hook is simple: What no mother dares to say is that they would rather not be with their children.

After this generalized (and incredibly presumptuous) statement, the article quickly shifts into confessional-mommy mode, as Kirwan-Taylor recounts her own experience with motherhood. She became a workaholic while her children were small so that she could avoid them, does not find children to be ‘fulfilling, life-changing, life-enhancing fun’, and doesn’t hesitate to describe herself as just a ‘bad’ mom, as exemplified by her being ‘bored rigid’ with reading them bedtime stories. (I must admit I found this surprising, as she makes a living as a journalistic writer. But as that old adage in Spanish tells us “In a blacksmith’s house, the knives are made of wood.”) She then talks about feeling ashamed, unfit, and guilty, and bemoans her lack of entry into the mythical “private club of motherhood”.

It becomes clear that the members of the private club of motherhood are mommies in denial, dark side mommies who are child-centric and have turned their children into the Last Career. Any motherhood club mommies who think or feel otherwise are just keeping a secret from society and themselves, too chicken to be honest and hiding until someone else says it first. Unsurprisingly, that bold new woman would be Kirwan-Taylor, who perhaps doesn’t realize that the argument that children and child rearing are boring, menial tasks has been around for a long, long time. And of course, there is an expert to both validate her confession and pat her on the back because “it takes a brave woman to admit that [that child-rearing can be tedious or dull]”.

So Kirwan-Taylor sets up her own private club, complete with whispered admissions of boredom to the point of depression and madness from both working and stay-at-home mothers. And now that she has her own club and has been validated by experts, she uses mommy-bashing to vindicate herself.

All us bored mothers can take comfort from the fact that our children may yet turn out to be more balanced than those who are love-bombed from the day they are born.

Research increasingly shows that child-centred parenting is creating a generation of narcissistic children who cannot function independently.

'Their demand for external support is enormous,' says Kati St Clair. 'They enter the real world totally ill-prepared. You damage a child just as much by giving them extreme attention as you do by ignoring them altogether. Both are forms of abuse.'

Child experts are increasingly begging parents to let their kids be.

'Parents think they can design their children by feeding them a diet of Mozart — well they can't,' says Dr Rosenfeld.

Sometimes, apparently, the best thing parents can do for their children is to let them be bored.

This, of course, makes mothers like me — who love their children but refuse to cater to their every whim — feel vindicated. By sticking to our guns, we have unwittingly created children who can do things like make up stories (very few kids can any more).

Because I have categorically said: 'I am not a waitress, a driver or a cleaner,' my children have learned to put away their plates and tidy up their rooms. They've become brilliant planners, often inviting their friends to come for the weekend (because I've forgotten to bother).

Frankly, as long as you've fed them, sheltered them and told them they are loved, children will be fine. Mine are — at the risk of sounding smug — well-adjusted, creative children who respect the concept of work. They also accept my limitations.

What is truly a shame about this article is that, predictably, it is of the one-right-way-to-parent variety and leaves no room for difference or tolerance. There are no shades of gray, no middle roads, no other possibilities. If she sounds smug, it’s because she casts herself as superior to other mothers, and not because of how her children may or may not be turning out.

In the end, this so-called confession is a vehicle to polarize mothers and keep the mommy wars fueled. Getting women to fight in public gets an audience and brings in the money. More insidiously, it distracts the conversation from what it should really be about: How do we bring about social changes that support parents, children and families? Ironically, though her children bore her rigid, writing about her relationship to them probably allows her to pay the nanny, the highlights, and the shoes. Not too shabby a consequence for having to deal with such menial, dull creatures.

Coda to public breastfeeding article

2006-07-30T08:45:00.000-05:00

The CNN article referenced in my last post is published- verbatim- under a different title in AOL.com "Many Outraged by Breast-Feeding Magazine Cover". Sounds like a different article altogether, doesn't it? How's that for spin?

The acceptance of breastfeeding in public: CNN.com's "Lactivists: Where is it OK to breastfeed?"

2006-07-29T17:19:00.000-05:00

On Thursday (July 27, 2006) CNN.com published an article titled “Lactivists: Where is it OK to breastfeed?” that covered public reactions to the recent Babytalk magazine cover featuring a close-up of a breastfeeding baby. The photograph consists primarily of the latched-on child’s face while the mother’s breast is partially visible (side-view, no nipple).

Though the title asks the question ‘Where is it OK to breastfeed?’ it really focuses on the perceived social acceptance of public breastfeeding within mainstream America. From the article one would get the impression that, celebrity breastfeeding bra-watching aside, there is a general lack of support for women to breastfeed in public. Yet a closer look seems to suggest that this may be the result of how the issue is being presented.

For example, the article emphasizes the fact that this particular issue of Babytalk received over 700 letters in response, and goes on to quote some of the negative comments they included. It does not say, however, how many of those 700+ responses were negative, and how many may have actually expressed delight or support for the image. In the same vein, CNN reports that the majority of the free magazine’s audience is mothers, and that “in a poll of more than 4,000 readers, a quarter of responses to the cover were negative”. Notice how a simple switch of that statement creates a different impression: “in a poll of more than 4,000 readers, 75% of the responses to the cover were positive or neutral”. Sounds like a different audience, doesn’t it?

The article contains the usual comments of ‘breasts are sexual’, and of women wanting their husbands and sons to be shielded from these inappropriate sightings of breasts. Even though one woman is quoted as supporting the cover because “it helps educate people that breasts are more than sex objects”, her support is quickly neutralized by her admission that she does not breastfeed in public and her statement that “Men are very visual...when they see a woman's breast, they see a breast -- regardless of what it's being used for."

This last statement is problematic on many levels. One, it assumes that men’s reactions to breasts are somehow biological and not cultural, an idea that can be quickly discarded by noting that there are many cultures where breasts are not strictly defined as sexual (a fact that can be ascertained by a quick stroll through any European beach). It is also demeaning to men, as it reduces them to visual creatures that are unable to control their sexual reactions to women. And not least, it assumes that breasts are just sex objects, and that by education we mean only that people should refrain from publicly reacting to them. Why insist on such limited perspectives and expectations?

In fact, there’s no discussion of the problematic way in which our culture unnecessarily sexualizes young girls and teaches them to feel shame before they have even reached sexual maturity. Do infants and small children really need two-piece bathing suits? Why cover the chest of a baby or little girl who has nothing yet to cover? By doing so, we highlight a future sexuality that has not even manifested itself, and we teach both girls and boys that our bodies are, primarily, sexual and consequently subject to public shame.

One final aspect of this article, and of the breastfeeding debate in general, is that it doesn’t consider what types of positive messages public breastfeeding may send to girls. In a country where distorted media images of female beauty have succeeded in creating countless health and self-esteem issues for women and particularly girls, it seems that an acceptance of public breastfeeding would provide a good antidote –to both boys and girls- to the notion that women’s bodies are mainly sexualized objects to be gazed at by others. A woman breastfeeding her child is a reminder of the multiple capacities of a woman’s body, and of the fact that all bodies are vehicles for many experiences, of which sex is just one. As the last quote in the article states, breastfeeding is a moment between a mother and her child, and precisely because of that it should be an intrinsic, normal part of our social fabric, and not one to be relegated to bathrooms or kept behind closed doors.

A Loaded Opinion: Dr. Darshak Sanghavi and "The Mother Lode of Pain"

2006-07-25T00:39:00.000-05:00

The Boston Globe’s Sunday Magazine (July 23, 2006) features an article titled “The Mother Lode of Pain” by Dr. Darshak Sanghavi that presents itself as an inquiry into medicated vs. unmedicated birth. While the article provides some reasons for foregoing drugs during childbirth and even cites an interview with Ina May Gaskin (who is likely the foremost authority on midwifery today), Dr. Sanghavi’s article quickly deteriorates. Ultimately, he champions the use of pain medication during labor as the only option for ‘thinking beings’. In the process, he manages to be condescending and insulting, curiously exemplifying one of the many reasons why women have stopped listening to this type of self-serving medical opinion.

From the outset, Dr. Sanghavi stresses the importance of education, beginning with the story of Fanny Appleton who in 1847 was the first woman in the U.S. to use ether as an aid in birthing her third child. From that point on, however, the issue of education gets twisted, as Dr. Sanghavi tries to explain why even educated women choose natural childbirth. Some are dismissed as being misinformed by outdated research on early epidurals and their side-effects (p. 6 and 7), and others as being misled by erroneous information provided by childbirth classes (p. 7). Then there are those that are compared to religious fanatics and suicide bombers (p. 5), and finally those for whom labor is an 'extreme sport' (p. 7). According to Dr. Sanghavi, truly educated women are those that agree with using medication during labor, for to choose any other option is to ‘rationalize the existence of labor pain’ (p. 7).

There are several clues within the article as to reasons why women choose to birth without medication that Dr. Sanghavi does not delve into. (Unsurprisingly, he discusses only the idea of ecstatic births and reduces Gaskin’s justification for labor pain to this, thus subtly denigrating her.) The fact that women feel empowered and in control (p. 7), the idea that labor pain is a ‘pain with a purpose’ and that it does not imply suffering but may be a ‘joyful pain’ that is part of a process (p. 3-4) are, by themselves, very powerful reasons. Not to mention the fact that not all research supports Dr. Sanghavi’s premise that modern labor medication has no effect on babies, labor or subsequent complications such as cesareans. (As a starting point, Henci Goer’s “The Thinking Woman’s Guide to Birth” provides ample medical research to the contrary.) But that is material for a different post.

In the interest of fairness, and lest it seem that I am exaggerating Dr. Sanghavi’s level of condescension, I have decided to quote the last section of his article:

As a pediatrician, I have been present at hundreds of births and spoken with dozens of women who passed up anesthesia during labor. One justification I've often heard is that labor pain "empowers" women or gives them a sense of "control." But many women accept pain for a more mundane reason: They are poorly educated about obstetrical anesthesia and don't have access to compassionate and technologically advanced medical care. In that sense, Fanny Longfellow's story is especially relevant; she overcame both ignorance about anesthesia (by teaching herself about ether) and the lack of access (by finding a willing dentist when no obstetrician would tend her). She didn't rationalize the existence of labor pain.

STILL, THERE WILL ALWAYS be people who want their pain. When I was a teenager in New Jersey, I endured an optional religious challenge called the atthai, an Indian Jain custom of fasting for eight straight days. The idea is that the people should dissociate from the material world, even from something as elemental as food. Accomplishing the painful challenge is something of an ego rush; the hunger artists are honored as members of a holy community. (I look back on this now with agnostic disbelief.)

Like prolonged fasting, enduring labor without anesthesia attracts notice. It casts the mother as a struggling heroine who - by sheer mental force - gracefully keeps her body under control. "Natural childbirth purists," author Margaret Talbot wrote in the New York Times after having children with and without anesthesia, "see labor as a kind of performance for which a woman can and should rehearse, and in which she can comport herself more or less admirably. [They] regard labor as an extreme sport."

In this setting, the pain of unmedicated labor offers up a formidable, if artificial, trial that precedes entry into a highly selective sorority. It creates drama. It captures attention.

Yet pain in the end is an utterly primitive thing, a vestige of insect and reptilian brains. It evolved primarily as a way to change behavior without need for thought - to force one's hand to pull away from fire or tend urgently to an injured limb. Thinking beings, in some sense, have evolved beyond pain. (Some pain reflexes continue even in brain-dead individuals.) If anything, reliance on pain to create meaning during childbirth indicates a constricted imagination. Surely there must be more innovative challenges than voluntarily refusing effective, safe, and available pain relief during labor. As the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology states, "There is no other circumstance where it is considered acceptable for a person to experience untreated severe pain, amenable to safe intervention, while under a physician's care."

Which is why choosing to feel pain during childbirth strikes me as odd. Eliminating pain won't create a sudden existential crisis among mothers, because parenting is too rich an experience. And after all, being born is ultimately the least distinguishing feature of being human; everyone's done it and, moreover, no one remembers it.

What, exactly, is compassionate about Dr. Sanghavi’s characterization of natural childbirth and the women who choose to birth without medication? There is no room for any opinion but his own informed, expert judgment, and women who think differently are negatively characterized as ignorant or not in their right mind. As someone who is so keen on education: How is it that he makes no distinction between Lamaze classes and the Bradley method? (I guess those ‘natural childbirth’ classes are all the same, and anyway, they are just “setting women up for failure”.)

In a few paragraphs, he manages to compare unmedicated childbirth to religious rituals or experiences (remember the suicide bombers?), then casts mothers who labor without anesthesia as struggling heroines who are seeking entrance into a highly selective sorority, thus creating drama and capturing attention. Not content to leave it at that, he goes on to suggest that women who choose not to be medicated are responding to their primitive, reptilian brain, and are suffering from a constricted imagination by relying on pain to give meaning to childbirth. We are not just childish and dramatic, but have turned into the snake itself.

Come to think of it, Dr. Sanghavi’s characterizations of women who labor without pain are more suitable to describe many in his own profession. They express an almost fanatical belief in medicine and rationalize their own shortcomings, often behave like an exclusive fraternity whose wisdom is not to be questioned, and they certainly love drama and attention. Their version of an extreme sport is to practice ever more ‘necessary’ cutting-edge interventions, and to create a need for things that are unnecessary and may even be harmful (think of some routine aspects of medicalized birth, such as episiotomies, fetal monitors, and being made to labor on your back, just to mention a few). Isn’t this really about a primitive type of envy at not having the chance to ‘deliver’ birthing women from their own bodies?

In the end, however, what is most disturbing about this article is the one-size-fits-all attitude towards women by advocating the use of medication by all, and its lack of respect for those who decide to trust their bodies -and themselves- during the process of childbirth. It may be true that no one remembers being born (and there are those who would disagree), but every woman remembers her labor and the birth of her child. Birth is not only about the outcome, as the medical profession may like to believe, but it is also about a physical, emotional and -dare I say- spiritual process in which you bring another being to life. To dismiss birth as being “the least distinguishing feature of being human” strikes me as truly unimaginative.

A Truce in the Mommy Wars

2006-07-10T00:05:00.000-05:00

The Mommy Wars rage on, and it seems that all parenting subjects have become grounds for entrenchment, judgment, and even coercion. Feeding, diapering and sleeping with your baby have become lifestyle assertions that transcend the personal and give way to the militant. While the media, government and special interest groups are key players in this cultural roadblock to much-needed change for parents and their families, I think it would do us well to look at our own role as foot soldiers in this dirty little war.

By no means do I mean to add more guilt or responsibility to parents: my goal, in fact, is the exact opposite. Yet if we really want to change the current divisive climate and reframe the debate, we need to understand our own participation in it. In the process of thinking about this, I have found myself returning to three ideas: the role of judgment, the need for respect, and a holistic view of parenting.

It is inevitable that we will judge not just ourselves but others as parents. We do so in all other areas of life, from bigger issues such as politics and religion to mundane details like the flowers your neighbor grows in his garden. We like or dislike the choices of others, compare them against our own, and make judgments as to the types of persons we think they are. These judgments inform small decisions (whether we talk to our bus companion or busy ourselves with a book) and larger ones (whether we befriend the neighbor with the wild garden).

Our cultural climate, however, has suffered the erosion of tolerance and compromise, and this is particularly apparent in the polarization defined by the red/blue states. This all or nothing thinking has permeated parenting, where the stakes may be even higher because they conflate with the religious and political agendas of all sides. Rather than simply disagreeing with someone else’s parenting style, and often triggered by a single issue or decision, we are quick to say ‘bad parent’. And not just in our mind, but loudly and publicly.

Take as an example that much-maligned mother Britney Spears. (I use her as a common shorthand.) I am amazed at the aggressive and insulting criticism of her parenting. Now, there are many things to be said about Spears. To play the judging game, the first that spring to mind are that she is immature, impulsive and sometimes lacks good judgment. These qualities have ensured her tabloid existence, and not surprisingly have marked her parenting choices. Yet does this make her a bad parent? Why can’t she just be an inexperienced, immature, impulsive parent that sometimes lacks good judgment? Why is there a need to vilify and ridicule her? Why is calling her bad making so many people feel good?

This is where we need to exercise respect. It is essential to remember that, in the end, all (or most) parents do what they think is best not only for their child but also for their family. Even parents who are impulsive or lack good judgment are doing their best, whether we like their results or not. There are no perfect parents, including ourselves, and the tolerance we practice today may be the one that saves us tomorrow.

By no means am I condoning things like child abuse or advocating tolerance for negligence: don't get me wrong. (Keep in mind, however, that what may be negligence in your book may not be so in mine, and vice-versa. A good example of this is co-sleeping.) Yet we do cross a line when, for example, we play the “pin-the-tail-on-the-bad-parent” game simply because a mother decided not to breastfeed her child. Even in areas where the choice may seem clear to me, I try to think about what other parents may be facing. The medical profession is not necessarily helpful or without controversy, and in the same way that I don't trust a drug manufacturer to have my best interests in mind, someone else may not trust a non-vaccine advocacy group to have their best interests in mind. I have to accept that difference. Others may research an issue and come to the opposite conclusion from mine, or perhaps they may choose not to research, period. I may not agree with them, but everyone has a right to parent in the best way that they see fit, and I will defend their right to do so because only by doing so can I protect my own.

Navigating the world of parenting is not easy, and when asked about most subjects I limit myself to offering information, resources, and my own experience. It's a fine line to tread, because often in telling your experiences, you are advocating for your choices. That's why I try to be mindful about those conversations (or posts). I don't always succeed, and if you ask for my opinion I'll tell it to you straight. But it's what I aspire to, just like I'm trying to be the best parent I can.

Along the same lines, I think we need to look at parenting in a more holistic way, rather than focus on areas of disagreement. My relatives and friends make parenting decisions that are different from my own, and this should not be a deal breaker. In fact, there is much I can learn from them. Good or bad parenting, if we want to speak on those terms, are a matter of many decisions, day-to-day routines, efforts, commitments, and emotions. There are also plenty of regrets, mistakes, and circumstances beyond our control. We all win, including our children, by practicing tolerance and respect and refusing to participate in the judge-a-parent fest. As Queen Ann commented on a previous post:

Can I blame someone for choosing another way? I shouldn't, and I believe mothers deserve to be treated with unjudging respect, but I have to admit that I am not perfect at it. Am I the only one who believes in respect for all but who still struggles with unkind thoughts about women who "took the easy way out"? I find I have to work on that constantly. So I will.

Linda Hirshman on how to lead your life

2006-06-17T23:27:00.000-05:00

I want to comment briefly on Linda Hirshman's latest article (Unleashing the Wrath of Stay-at-Home Moms, Washington Post, June 18, 2006), and it’s complaint about the ‘backlash’ she has received from stay-at-home moms, and particularly bloggers.

Two examples from her article are enough to illustrate why she has not earned much support from the majority of women:

“[I said]...women who quit their jobs to stay home with their children were making a mistake. Worse, I said that the tasks of housekeeping and child rearing were not worthy of the full time and talents of intelligent and educated human beings. They do not require a great intellect, they are not honored and they do not involve risks and the rewards that risk brings.”

First of all, believing that you are in a position to judge the choices of others is at the very least patronizing, not to mention delusional. Her job versus children view of the world lines up nicely with patriarchal thought in its devaluation of child rearing. Child rearing is for dumb, uneducated human beings who can waste their useless time on it, which is why we don’t honor it, and why, if you are a worthy human being, you should be out in the world taking risks (that are socially recognized and approved, of course). Still wonder why Hirshman isn’t getting the respect she feels she deserves?

I have followed Hirshman’s articles in various forums, and the negative reaction she elicits comes not only from stay-at-home-mothers, but also from working mothers, fathers, and even her academic peers. The reaction is not, as she states, “because standing up for staying at work is the big taboo”. It is due to her arrogance at dictating what women should do, how they should do it, and how they should feel about their choices. It is because of her narrow-mindedness in believing that there is one definition for everything in life, and that conveniently she is the author of that universal dictionary. In fact, I’m not surprised that she considers that “a philosopher's job [is] to tell people how they should lead their lives”. (Philosophers take note: Hirshman has just ended centuries of debate concerning your role in the world.) Though she may deride and criticize anyone who disagrees with her opinion, it is her mandate to impose her view of life on you. How philosophical of her.

Finally, Hirshman’s feigned shock at the responses she has garnered is a poor excuse for an article. But hey, we all know that to sell books, even bad ones, you need to create media buzz. And like Ann Coulter, what better way than by using aggressive, reductive and insulting language? With statements such as this, is it any wonder people get upset?

“Much worse than the roofing-and-barfing and salvation crowds, though, were the relativists, who criticized me for trying to give feminism some context and boundaries. My favorite was the woman who dissed me for defining feminism and then said, "Supporting other women's choices is the very essence of feminism, at least as I define it."”

Really Hirshman, such writing “is not worthy of the full time and talents of intelligent and educated human beings.” And by the way, though you say little about the relativists' arguments (just enough to scoff at them), I think they may be on to something. Try listening. It's worth the risk.

Want a little support with that breast milk?

2006-06-17T15:13:00.000-05:00

According to the latest New York Times article (Breast Feed or Else, by Roni Rabin, June 13, 2006), it seems that the tide has finally turned. The medical establishment has fully and officially endorsed breast-feeding. The same medical establishment, by the way, that for years has allowed baby formula companies to pitch their products to mothers who have just delivered and provide them with baby welcome bags full of free samples.

This happened to me as recently as January of 2005, even though it was already a prohibited practice where I lived. After an emergency c-section the day before and countless fights over outdated hospital protocols, I was awakened at 7 am by a chirpy representative who passed herself off as hospital staff and started asking me questions, including my contact information and income. She left quickly when I told her I was going to report her company, but it was clear she did this daily with every new mother in that hospital. So much for following all the rules.

But now that science supports what breast-feeding advocates have been saying all along, it seems women have been given a new ultimatum: breast-feed or else.

Don’t get me wrong, I fully support breast-feeding, and continue to breast-feed my 17 month old. In that sense, I am part of the success stories. However, I’m also in that group of mothers who has to supplement with formula for a very simple reason: at age 18 I had breast reduction surgery. The fact that I’ve partially breastfed is another success story of a different kind. (For more information on that, see this link.)

I don’t regret my surgery, even if it meant a lot of hard work to establish breast-feeding with my child. I had excellent coaches and a great support team, yet it was still emotionally draining to keep trying without being able to forego supplementation. I was afraid that my son would come to prefer the bottle and wean himself, and frantically tried every available means to increase my supply. At a certain point, this frenzy took its toll on breast-feeding itself, and that’s when I realized that it wasn’t just about milk, but also about our relationship. It wasn’t healthy to feel inadequate every time I fed my child, and I decided to just relax and enjoy it for as long as it lasted, without pressuring either of us. And that’s when our breast-feeding relationship truly developed, and it became about us and not just the milk.

This is important, because the benefits of breast milk are only part of a complex equation that also involves the emotions of both mother and child. If a mother is unhappy with breastfeeding, for whatever reason, she should be able to do otherwise without becoming the target of criticism of either the medical establishment or society. Yet there is another part to the breastfeeding equation that has yet to be adequately addressed, and that is the lack of a social structure to foster and sustain it, both in the workplace and at large.

In fact, we should think about why women become disenchanted with breastfeeding. For example, how do you deal with the still prevalent discomfort of others with nursing in public? (It’s not a coincidence that breast-feeding and pumping are relegated to public bathrooms, since they are deemed unseemly bodily functions. Would it feel nice to eat your lunch in a public bathroom?) How do you educate a public that was brought up on the ‘practicality’ of formula, or that feels free to remark with disapproval that your child is too old to nurse?

More importantly, how do you maintain a breastfeeding relationship when you have to go to work? The article clearly summarizes the difficulties of breastfeeding and work:

“Moreover, urging women to breast-feed exclusively is a tall order in a country where more than 60 percent of mothers of very young children work, federal law requires large companies to provide only 12 weeks' unpaid maternity leave and lactation leave is unheard of. Only a third of large companies provide a private, secure area where women can express breast milk during the workday, and only 7 percent offer on-site or near-site child care, according to a 2005 national study of employers by the nonprofit Families and Work Institute.”

If we really care about promoting breastfeeding, then we need to address the obstacles faced by women in order to successfully do so. It would be infinitely wiser to allocate funds for better maternity leaves on a nationwide scale, access to healthcare and childcare, and flexible work options for women, rather than spend it on campaigns that play to women’s guilt and fear. The use of sensationalist TV ads, portraying heavily pregnant women in a log rolling competition or riding a mechanical bull, trivializes the unique and complex circumstances of each woman and endorses a judgmental public attitude towards non-breastfeeding women. In fact, it’s disturbing that this new government initiative to promote breastfeeding, known as Healthy People 2010 is part of the same initiative that brought about the CDC’s report on preconception health. (See my previous entry on that report.) While I am not against the goals of better health for women or of the promotion of breastfeeding, I balk at the way it is overriding women’s personal choices to mandate certain behaviors.

As I write this, I realize that this entry shares more personal information than I expected. In that sense, breast-feeding is, like pregnancy, a unique experience for every woman. It is affected by her circumstances and differs in accordance with the needs and temperament of each mother and child. And because of that, we need to provide not only the structural support needed for women to successfully breast-feed, but also our respect to those who, for many reasons, do not.

The CDC report on preconception health

2006-06-16T00:59:00.000-05:00

On April 21, 2006 the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued a series of Recommendations to Improve Preconception Health and Health Care in their Report of the CDC/ATSDR Preconception Care Work Group and the Select Panel on Preconception Care. (You can read the report here.) The report was covered in major newspapers and received attention because of its definition of preconception health patients, which includes all women between the moment of their first period and menopause. Intrigued, I decided to take a close look at the document.

The report is 16 pages and tailored to the stated goals and recommendations: in that sense, it is more vague and repetitive than informative. While it talks about ‘improving the health of women and couples’ and promoting ‘optimal health for women, children, and families’, you eventually discover its focus. Predictably, buried on page 9 of a 16 page report it says: “The target population for preconception health promotion is women, from menarche to menopause, who are capable of having children, even if they do not intend to conceive.” (Emphasis mine.) And in fact, leaving aside the repeated invocations of benefits to others, the recommended actions are aimed at women.

For example, the first goal is to “improve the knowledge and attitudes and behaviors of men and women related to preconception care,” (p. 1) yet the bulk of the report focuses specifically on women’s preconception health and how to facilitate ‘assessment’ of risk factors and intervention. Aside from general public outreach programs, there isn’t a single recommendation that is geared specifically towards men. It has been established that male fertility is adversely affected by alcohol and smoking and by chronic health conditions such as diabetes. This means that to improve reproductive health men must be participants and not just sideline supporters. Here, however, only women are responsible for fertility or the health of offspring.

Another issue is the definition’s clear dismissal of women’s agency: “even if they do not intend to conceive”. While I am aware that one goal is to improve pregnancy outcomes, including for unintended pregnancies, I worry about the consequences of guidelines that ignore women’s intentions and give precedence to a potential pregnancy. The idea of a life now dictates the healthcare of real, living women.

This may not seem like much when it comes to daily folic acid or even screening for STDs and HIV (though some may object). The emphasis on ‘lifestyle’ risks such as alcohol consumption and smoking becomes problematic when you read “risks and behavior should be addressed during any encounter with the health-care system because approximately half of all pregnancies in the United States are unintended” (p. 5). That means that a woman’s lifestyle may be scrutinized every time she sees a health care practitioner (even her child’s pediatrician, as suggested) because of a possible pregnancy. It’s more disturbing to realize the socioeconomic and therefore racial issues at play, as it is acknowledged that “a small number of women experience the majority of the pregnancy-related morbidity and mortality” (p. 8), and that the intervention is aimed primarily at those women.

If this report meant guaranteed health care for all who are currently without, I might support it. But shouldn’t this be available to all women, regardless of their capacity to conceive? What happens to infertile women? Are they less worthy of care or concern? Are they a lesser benefit to their families or society? Though the report’s goals may be well intended, their linkage to reproduction is unnecessary and troublesome.

Finally, the report’s glaring silence on contraceptive education as part of preconception health makes me wonder about a hidden political agenda. Given the heated debate on the issue of abortion, it seems unusual that the report would mention that “[the] health plan might increase the number of planned pregnancies” (p. 2) without once addressing how unwanted pregnancies may be avoided or reduced. The goal then is not to maximize women’s health, knowledge, or choices with respect to fertility and pregnancy, but to turn women into healthier vessels for a possible life.

I guess it’s time to dust off my copy of The Handmaid’s Tale.

The scarlet M

2006-05-27T23:45:00.000-05:00

Last night I started this entry to address, in part, Britney Spear’s public designation as a ‘bad mom’. This morning, my husband opened the front door while holding our son, who suddenly turned and hit his forehead on it. Without missing a beat, my husband announced he was having a “Britney moment”.

Two recent articles bring the issue of public judgment of mothers to the forefront, and not surprisingly their subject is celebrity moms. Granted, the world of celebrities operates under its own set of rules and occupies a particular space in the current cultural landscape. I will not delve into that. But what is interesting about the pieces has little to do with that strange universe.

The May 25th CNN news link reads “Mothers to Media: Lay Off Britney”. From the outset the article reinforces the negative portrayal of Spears by describing her as “America’s most maligned mother” and as having “a way of appearing maternally challenged”. It then narrates a series of incidents that have made Spears the object of much public scrutiny (and incredibly enough, two visits from the local police department). In a disturbing sleight-of-hand, however, the article credits a ‘celebrity mommy patrol’ with passing this judgment on her: “Not good.... We’d never do that.” The ‘we’ turns out not to be the media responsible for the barrage of articles, but other moms. As if that wasn’t enough, the article then feigns shock at the fact that “fellow moms are doing something a bit surprising: defending Britney.”

It is irritating that under the guise of reporting mothers’ support for Spears, the media again pits mothers against mothers. Who, exactly, is surprised that other mothers are defending Spears? In fact, the article goes on to announce:

“None of the mothers interviewed for this piece deny that Spears has shown questionable judgment, at best. But many noted that motherhood has long been subject to changing standards. Was it so long ago, for example, that kids roamed free in the car, unbelted? How long have kiddie bike helmets been around?”

Contrary to the image of a mommy patrol ready to condemn the slightest infraction, it seems most mothers agree that parenting standards are constantly in flux. And yet, the article never addresses the real story –that there was substantial public backlash against the media because of the criticism being foisted on Spears. Instead it’s framed as a conversation between mothers and what it takes to become part of the ‘Mommy Club’.

A second article along the same vein is “Public hooked on celebrity kiddie catastrophes” (Misty Harris, CanWest News Service, May 26, 2006). This one describes the negative attention on Spears’ parenting as bloodsport, and happily goes on to note that:

“The finger-pointing is reaching a fever pitch: pop-culture blog MollyGood has giddily declared that "passing judgment on celebrity parenting is the new passing judgment on celebrity weight loss.''

The underlying assumption is that passing judgment on parenting is not just acceptable behavior, but a delightful pastime. The article gleefully produces a list of the most recent celebrity parent condemnations and, with the exception of Brad Pitt, the charges are lobbied exclusively at mothers. It seems that, even in the unreal universe of celebrities, the harsh rules of judgment and surveillance apply to mothers only.

What should not be news to anyone is that mothers have had enough.

The story of how this blog began

2006-05-24T15:52:00.000-05:00

I have always valued my privacy. That, among others, is one of the reasons why I am a city dweller. Cities allow you to blend in, to move anonymously through your day if you so choose. Privacy is both freedom and pleasure, and I never imagined that parenthood might curtail it.

Pregnancy made me a celebrity. It was all about my "state of grace", about the spotlight on the promise of my expanding belly, and had very little to do with me: I only happened to be there. Strangers smiled at me, spoke to me unbidden, or touched me as if I were public property. I was given advice, told intimate details of pregnancies and birth experiences, given dire, graphic warnings of all that might befall me. It mattered not if I expressed interest or disgust. I was the embodiment of something bigger and- a little like the flash of Julia Robert's smile- my state of being 'with child' evoked reactions everywhere I went.

Strangely enough, I also found myself being treated like a child, or a mentally impaired adult, unable to make independent, informed decisions (particularly by the medical profession). This undermined my authority, and my pregnancy and body became "open to the general public". The principles of physical integrity or privacy ceased to apply.

Then I had my baby. Suddenly, I became not anonymous, but invisible.

I was now the child's mother, and my thirty-seven years of studying, working, and living vanished into thin air. My conversation with other adults could be described as 'motherhood musak' and its only theme was my son. I was rarely asked about work, interests, or any of the other parts of my life, and soon I stopped mentioning them myself. Occasionally, a family member or close friend would refer to the mother-formerly-known-as, and I would make a guest appearance. But I quickly tired of foraying outside of the scripted mommy dialogues, for it felt defensive. What was I defending myself from? There was also the nagging sensation that maybe I was being oversensitive, selfish, or that somehow I was at fault. And frankly, who cared what the world thought?

I came to realize, however, that I did care. Not because of me in particular, but because of what this indicated about the current state of parenthood. While I had experienced my share of being pigeonholed into social definitions, those occasions had lacked the impact that comes from being catalogued as a mother. And even worse, I had not expected the large amount of negativity that would be hurled my way by others.

This was in sharp contrast to my husband's own crossing of the parenthood threshold, where his every bit of involvement was heralded with admiration and respect. In the NICU where our son spent his first few days of life, my husband's presence was greeted with awe, his every move a testament to his status as a new father. I, on the other hand, was given small lectures on what I should or shouldn't do with my child, with a tone that underscored my ignorance and incompetence in all matters. I kept quiet, thinking that exhaustion and shock after birth complications were making me imagine things. But the contrast was so obvious that my husband remarked on it.

And that set me to thinking, and to asking questions. Why are pregnancy (and for that matter parenthood) and privacy at such odds? What is it about pregnancy that alters a woman's cultural and social status so radically? What is it about pregnancy and parenthood that makes one’s decisions open to discussion (and judgment) by everyone and anyone?

I am aware of the many positive social dynamics that surround pregnancy and parenthood. Parenthood has allowed for a different kind of intimacy and understanding in relationships with other adults, and has reshaped my public personality for the better. Those experiences are worth considering and writing about. But there is something compelling about the sometimes strange behavior elicited by a mother-to-be, perhaps because it points to the cultural ambivalence that still exists towards women, their role in procreation, and their work as mothers (to say the least).

These first unanswered questions are the catalyst for this blog. Since privacy, as I knew it, will never return, I may as well make my presence felt. Rather than just follow the current discussions on mothers, parenthood and children, this will be a space from which to tackle those cultural behemoths.

Featured Story: Hilary

2006-04-04T00:16:00.000-05:00

I have found that the mostly likely place to encounter unsolicited belly pats and comments from strangers is at Wal-Mart. There seems to be no other common denominator except for the fact that the socially incompetent thrive cruising the aisles buying underwear and milk. As I load my son into the shopping cart, the onslaught is almost instantaneous.

"It's a girl, right?"

"No, it's actually a boy," I reply.

"No, no, no, honey, it's a girl," replies the braless woman clad in her finest Lynard Skynard concert wear. And there's a part of me that wants to protest, but what would be the point? She clearly thinks her beer-buzzed intuition is far superior to, oh say, highly trained level two ultrasound technicians.

"Yeah, maybe so," I say as we pass. She huffs triumphantly and heads towards the pharmacy.

"Mija, you are having twins, no?" enter the Hispanic grandma, who here in South Texas garners the same respect as the Pope. You don't mess with Abuela. But she's touching me and accusing me of hiding a second fetus. This one is tricky.

"Actually, no it's just one," I manage a smile. I shift attempting to move her hand away, but she's suddenly three inches closer to my boob.

"Don't eat too much, mija, or the baby will never get out," she pats my son's cheek with a grin. Under her breath blesses him in Spanish as she shuffles away. Despite all that touching, Abuela is a good-hearted woman, and you can't dislike her. She is clearly genuinely concerned about my child being able to exit my body. I am more perplexed than angry. I mean, has she ever actually known someone whose baby never got out? Is there some woman wandering the streets with a five year old still lodged in her belly because she couldn't stay away from Ding Dongs and Cheetos?

As I move to pay, the woman in front of me looks at my son. I see her glance back and forth from my son to my belly as she unloads her cart. Her baby coos at me from the infant carrier in the front of her basket.

"How old is he?" she motions with her head towards my son.

"He's almost four," I reply, proudly looking at my boy.

"No," she sadly shakes her head,"they're too far apart." She then suddenly interrupts herself to shout-no SHRIEK- at a little boy sporting a cast who has gone behind the adjacent register, and if I'm not mistaken, was actively searching for the silent alarm. For some reason, after retrieving him, she feels compelled to launch into a diatribe about child spacing and explains to me I've simply waited too long. They will fight. They won't be friends. The older one is too set in his ways. "You shouldn't have waited so long," she laments.

I am too stunned to think of a reply. I know, though, what I wanted to say. "I hear ya, sister. If that last baby I'd been carrying hadn't gone off and died on us, it would have been sooooo much easier. And all that infertility stuff, wow, I mean, that totally jacked up the whole system. And the crazy thing is, all those years I couldn't have a baby I felt so incompetent and like I was doing it all wrong. Just when I finally felt normal, felt like I'd finally gotten it right, you, thank GOD, are here to tell me that I'm still doing it wrong. I guess we should just give this baby away to someone else, a better person, maybe like you, because apparently we are hopelessly SCREWED." But I am silent. I am numb as I watch her walk out into the parking lot. She searches for her keys while her son darts out into traffic. I want to laugh at her absurdity and cry at her unintentional cruelty.

I pay for my purchases, and kiss my son's head. He seems confused by the interaction, as he is wise beyond his years.

"Well, I like the baby, mommy."

"So do I, Boo, " and am surprised to find myself searching the exit for Abuela, and wondering if she'd give me a hug.

Hilary
mom to Tabor, who will be four August 9th
Due with my next miracle also on August 9th

The above is a compilation of comments I received from about 7-9 months of pregnancy.

Featured Story: Dayna Reader Chalif

2006-04-03T00:10:00.000-05:00

when i became pregnant with my first child, i was working as a psychotherapist at a substance abuse recovery program for women. many of the women i was working with had lost their children to the foster care system, or to family members. others still had legal custody of their children, but they had caused serious harm to their children (physically and emotionally) and to the mother-child relationship through their behavior and addiction. even if a client did not have children of her own, every woman there was somebody's daughter, and those were some seriously complicated relationships as well.

as my belly started to grow, some of the women began to notice. one day as i was teaching some kind of class, somebody asked me point blank if i was pregnant and i told them that i was. something happened from that point on that was so unexpected and really touching for me.

the women began calling my baby "our baby." some would lovingly pat my belly as i walked by and ask "how's our baby doing?" others would get down close and whisper things to my belly, their hopes and dreams for "our baby." what you have to understand is that some of these women were really tough. many had spent time in the state penitentiary, almost all had spent countless nights on the street, many had prostituted themselves for drugs. but there wasn't one who wasn't sweet and loving towards "our baby" and protective of me (case in point, they smoked cigarettes around each other and even around their own kids, but if i walked up while someone was smoking and she didn't put the cigarette out immediately, she'd inevitably get a smack from another woman and a "hey, put that out! it's bad for our baby!") .

they had made mistakes with their own children they knew they could never correct, and their own mothers had abused and neglected them when they were young. and yet, they looked at me, saw a healthy woman in a solid relationship (this they assumed, as i didn't talk about my partner at all) about to bring a baby into the world, and they fell in love with my baby and rejoiced in my growing belly nearly as much as i did.

i believe my pregnancy was healing for a lot of those women. it certainly was a catalyst for helping them bring up topics of being mothered and mothering that i don't think would have arisen otherwise. and all that attention to my belly? i thought it would bother me, but it didn't at all. each time my belly was touched, i pictured my baby receiving all that good energy, all the hopes and dreams of these women, and i knew it was a good thing.

Featured Story: Lesley Allen

2006-04-02T02:23:00.000-05:00

I was carrying my pregnancy quite well, I thought; the early stages of cravings and nausea led to me only being able to consume fresh fruit and veg, so I lost a lot of the weight I had acquired over the years, and my belly grew nice and roundy and had a lovely pregnant look. But by 5 months gestation, people were commenting "Oh dear, you must not have long to go now!" and when I said no and gave my due date, people looked at me in shock and sympathy. I even had a bus driver comment, "Girl, you MUST be having twins." Many people told me I was the "most pregnant-looking woman ever". Honestly, I knew my belly was big...did people think they needed to tell me because I looked like I was unaware? Sigh. The commentary weighed pretty heavily (no pun intended!) on my mind, and I started having dreams that my belly just kept growing until it was larger than me, another where my skin just spilt. Other newly pregnant looked at me in fright....

Hey, you be the judge: (Lesley Allen, @33-34 weeks)

Featured Story: Melissa B. Aitken

2006-04-01T02:28:00.000-05:00

I was about six months pregnant when you could actually say I started looking pregnant instead of gaining weight. A co worker was walking up as I was talking about my pregnancy to another co worker and she says "Oh, you are pregnant! I thought you were just gaining weight and your ass was getting wider". I was shocked.