I am soooo excited to share that I have finally taken the first step in my Birth Project adventure. I've created the site, a facebook group and an email address and now I just have to start gathering information to help it grow.
My plan is to build a go-to resource that women can use when planning their labor & delivery so that women can be prepared for the onslaught of choices, information and potential interventions that are thrown at them during their birth experience. It can be so overwhelming and the right planning can help prevent some of that undue stress on laboring mamas.
Please check it out if you would be so kind. And if you're feeling extra givey of your time, please take a moment to fill out the birth survey section if you are a mama.
Thanks! www.birthproject.weebly.com
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Friday, August 16, 2013
I Made Elyse Cry
School is starting and we're proactively trying to get everything organized, planned out and in a routine. When will we do homework? Where will we do our homework? How will we make sure our homework is done? How long do we need to study? What do we do if there's no homework?
All that fun stuff.
We are currently in the pre-game. The kids aren't getting a lot of homework, mostly practice pages they did during school and about 57 million things for parents to sign and return. We also haven't had orientation yet so everything we see in their folder is up to interpretation and you only have to go by what the kid is saying, what you know to make sense about the world and how well organized your child is .
Elyse is terrible at organization. I got home from work and got the usual, "yeah, yeah, yeah - we did our homework" bit. Then, cut to 8:45pm - time for bed - and suddenly Elyse needs me to sign something. I open up her folder and it's complete chaos. I'm totally hyper-organized with stuff like that, I label my labels and make lists for lists but if I'm on one side of the spectrum, Elyse is on the other.
So I'm trying to stay calm, on the left side of the folder I find several half done activity sheets.
"Are these supposed to be finished?"
No, she says. "We are just supposed to bring them home, Mom."
"Why don't you have to finish them?"
"We just don't, Mom. Trust me. This is our "take home" stuff."
So then I flip to the other side of the folder. I find several half done activity sheets.
"Are THESE supposed to be finished?"
No, she says. "We did these in class, they are already graded."
"But why isn't it finished?"
"We just didn't have to, Mom."
"But why is it in this side of the folder instead of the other side with all of the other half-finished activity sheets that weren't homework?"
"It just was, Mom. I remember what the teacher said, and I don't have to do these worksheets." "Trust me.", she says.
So then I find a homework check off sheet at the very bottom of the pile, which says "Check Math Homework". At least one of the half done activity sheets that "didn't have to be finished at home" were math sheets. I have no idea if I'm supposed to make her re-do the answers or just mark what's wrong? Is she even supposed to bring it back tomorrow or am I just supposed to "check it"?
At this point, something in me snaps.
I fall right into lecturing Elyse on organization, and the importance of having a place for her work. I'm explaining that we have a lot of parents involved in her life that all have to know what's going on. I remind her that she is a big girl and old enough to organize her work. I'm trying to convince her it will help her, that everyone needs organization. She is totally and completely resistant to everything I'm saying.
She starts crying, I can tell she's frustrated and something in me softens.
I say, "Why are you crying, Elyse? I'm just trying to helpful?" She tells me I seem mad. I tell her I'm not mad, but the crying continues. The crying gets worse.
She is crying because she doesn't want to change the [totally random] labels she's taken time to write in cursive in her folder.
She is crying because "what if she gets a lot more take home papers than homework papers and one side of the folder is wayyyyyyyyyyyyy bigger than the other!"
She is yelling at me to just do "WHATEVER YOU WANT! You're the Mom! JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!"
Parenting is hard, man. It's these moments where I have no idea where we are, how we got here and/or how to get out. I literally had no idea what I had said to make her so emotional.
I put her to bed shortly after that, and she was still weepy. I told her a stupid joke about a lion, zebra, giraffe and frog. She laughed, I kissed her forehead and told her we would talk about a solution that will work for both of us tomorrow.
She came home from school the next day with an "incomplete" circle on her homework sheet for not completing one of the math sheets. She prefaced telling me that with about one thousand don't-be-mad-at-me's. The same worksheet that I held in my hand as she assured me she just didn't have to do it, and told me to just trust her.
I felt the patience in me start to crumble, but this time instead of leaning in on the lecture I just asked her if she understood more about the importance of organization. I thought to myself, "Look at you stay patient! *mental high-five* What a divine learning opportunity for her to see the light!".
She countered with, "No! It's not my fault!"
"The teacher didn't tell us!"
"I didn't know"
"It was an accident!!"
Parenting is hard, man.
A totally different angle and she still hates organization. And evidently she is mad at me again for even thinking about holding her responsible for not completing an assignment. We were gifted a perfect real world example of why a "take-home" and "homework" folder would be so beneficial and she still abhors the idea.
I don't have an answer, or a pretty resolution at the end of this post or an "aha moment" that I had to share.
I dropped my daughter off at school this morning and she was mad at me because in an unrelated argument, I told her she needed to stop making excuses and to just do what I say. My sweet, sensitive daughter is turning into a big-for-her-britches time-bomb of emotions. There are just so many feelings in there! I thought I knew her so well and she is surprising me more and more, every single day. I repeat, there are just SO many feelings in there!
The car was pulling up to where she would get out and I told her, "I know you're frustrated with me, but I still love you. I love all the feelings you have in your heart, and all the opinions you have in your head - even the ones that are different from mine. You're in charge of those and I don't want to take them from you. I just want to help you be the best person you can. Do you understand?"
"I do."
I told her I loved her.
"I love you too, mama." she said.
All that fun stuff.
We are currently in the pre-game. The kids aren't getting a lot of homework, mostly practice pages they did during school and about 57 million things for parents to sign and return. We also haven't had orientation yet so everything we see in their folder is up to interpretation and you only have to go by what the kid is saying, what you know to make sense about the world and how well organized your child is .
Elyse is terrible at organization. I got home from work and got the usual, "yeah, yeah, yeah - we did our homework" bit. Then, cut to 8:45pm - time for bed - and suddenly Elyse needs me to sign something. I open up her folder and it's complete chaos. I'm totally hyper-organized with stuff like that, I label my labels and make lists for lists but if I'm on one side of the spectrum, Elyse is on the other.
So I'm trying to stay calm, on the left side of the folder I find several half done activity sheets.
"Are these supposed to be finished?"
No, she says. "We are just supposed to bring them home, Mom."
"Why don't you have to finish them?"
"We just don't, Mom. Trust me. This is our "take home" stuff."
So then I flip to the other side of the folder. I find several half done activity sheets.
"Are THESE supposed to be finished?"
No, she says. "We did these in class, they are already graded."
"But why isn't it finished?"
"We just didn't have to, Mom."
"But why is it in this side of the folder instead of the other side with all of the other half-finished activity sheets that weren't homework?"
"It just was, Mom. I remember what the teacher said, and I don't have to do these worksheets." "Trust me.", she says.
So then I find a homework check off sheet at the very bottom of the pile, which says "Check Math Homework". At least one of the half done activity sheets that "didn't have to be finished at home" were math sheets. I have no idea if I'm supposed to make her re-do the answers or just mark what's wrong? Is she even supposed to bring it back tomorrow or am I just supposed to "check it"?
At this point, something in me snaps.
I fall right into lecturing Elyse on organization, and the importance of having a place for her work. I'm explaining that we have a lot of parents involved in her life that all have to know what's going on. I remind her that she is a big girl and old enough to organize her work. I'm trying to convince her it will help her, that everyone needs organization. She is totally and completely resistant to everything I'm saying.
She starts crying, I can tell she's frustrated and something in me softens.
I say, "Why are you crying, Elyse? I'm just trying to helpful?" She tells me I seem mad. I tell her I'm not mad, but the crying continues. The crying gets worse.
She is crying because she doesn't want to change the [totally random] labels she's taken time to write in cursive in her folder.
She is crying because "what if she gets a lot more take home papers than homework papers and one side of the folder is wayyyyyyyyyyyyy bigger than the other!"
She is yelling at me to just do "WHATEVER YOU WANT! You're the Mom! JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!"
Parenting is hard, man. It's these moments where I have no idea where we are, how we got here and/or how to get out. I literally had no idea what I had said to make her so emotional.
I put her to bed shortly after that, and she was still weepy. I told her a stupid joke about a lion, zebra, giraffe and frog. She laughed, I kissed her forehead and told her we would talk about a solution that will work for both of us tomorrow.
She came home from school the next day with an "incomplete" circle on her homework sheet for not completing one of the math sheets. She prefaced telling me that with about one thousand don't-be-mad-at-me's. The same worksheet that I held in my hand as she assured me she just didn't have to do it, and told me to just trust her.
I felt the patience in me start to crumble, but this time instead of leaning in on the lecture I just asked her if she understood more about the importance of organization. I thought to myself, "Look at you stay patient! *mental high-five* What a divine learning opportunity for her to see the light!".
She countered with, "No! It's not my fault!"
"The teacher didn't tell us!"
"I didn't know"
"It was an accident!!"
Parenting is hard, man.
A totally different angle and she still hates organization. And evidently she is mad at me again for even thinking about holding her responsible for not completing an assignment. We were gifted a perfect real world example of why a "take-home" and "homework" folder would be so beneficial and she still abhors the idea.
I don't have an answer, or a pretty resolution at the end of this post or an "aha moment" that I had to share.
I dropped my daughter off at school this morning and she was mad at me because in an unrelated argument, I told her she needed to stop making excuses and to just do what I say. My sweet, sensitive daughter is turning into a big-for-her-britches time-bomb of emotions. There are just so many feelings in there! I thought I knew her so well and she is surprising me more and more, every single day. I repeat, there are just SO many feelings in there!
The car was pulling up to where she would get out and I told her, "I know you're frustrated with me, but I still love you. I love all the feelings you have in your heart, and all the opinions you have in your head - even the ones that are different from mine. You're in charge of those and I don't want to take them from you. I just want to help you be the best person you can. Do you understand?"
"I do."
I told her I loved her.
"I love you too, mama." she said.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
"At Least Your Baby is Healthy."
A woman sits in her hospital bed, recovering from a difficult birth. She is holding her beautiful healthy baby, overcome with joy at this perfect and healthy child brought into this world. Despite the joy, there is this nagging feeling of disappointment over her birth. She is exhausted, hormonal and overwhelmed with emotions. She collects her courage and tells a friend that it feels like she lost something important to her, that she feels like she failed. She explains how she feels weak and powerless because she couldn't even do something as natural as have a baby.
The good-intentioned friend tries to assure her, "at least your baby is healthy..."
It's an innocent statement. We've all heard it a million times. There is certainly an undeniable truth to it. It is also terribly damaging to a woman who is mourning a birth experience.
Realistically, a healthy baby is always something to praise God for, probably especially so if there was a difficult birth or life threatening emergency involved. The problem with pointing out something so obvious though is that it's often used to indirectly tell someone, "You shouldn't feel anything but grateful that your baby is healthy." So what happens when we still feel disappointed?
Women who prepare themselves for a certain birth experience can feel devastated when things don't go as planned. I mean that word with all the weight it comes with. It can be devastating. When we tell these women, "At least, your baby is healthy...", are we hoping this masked statement of positivity will banish feelings of disappointment and inadequacy? I assume so. Is that how feelings work? Not usually.
When we tell someone to look at the bright side or to focus on the good stuff, we are not giving them the space to process their negative feelings. Negative feelings rarely go away because we tell them to, or because we're told we shouldn't feel them. Often, when we're told "At least your baby is healthy", our feelings of guilt and inadequacy are compounded by feelings of shame and perceived selfishness for mourning a birth experience while holding our perfect, healthy baby. We feel confused about why we're not overcome with joy, like we should be. We feel like terrible mothers for focusing on the negative when all that should matter is our healthy baby. We feel depressed, inadequate, guilty, broken, selfish and like a bad mother. And then we're told through so many words that all that matters is our healthy baby. Our feelings don't matter. With no safe place to go, our feelings have nowhere to go but down deep inside of us.
Birth is an intensely emotional process for a woman. I believe that if a woman doesn't recognize the power birth has in her life, there are probably other bigger things she has numbed herself to. It is the essence of our womanhood. The birth experience can shape our deepest core perception of who we are, our power as a woman; carrier of life. It's not to say that cesareans, inductions, hospital births, car births or any kind of unplanned birth experience should change our sense of self, it's simply acknowledging that it is easy to feel like our power and capabilities as a woman are reflected in our birth experience. It's as real as feelings are, right or wrong.
So what do you say to a woman that is mourning a birth while holding a perfectly healthy baby?
Maybe you don't say anything. Maybe you just love that mama, and give her a safe place to cry or even yell about how unfair it was. Maybe you ask her what about her birth she would do differently next time? Maybe you ask her if there was any part of her birth she feels proud of?
At most, we can help these women, these all-powerful carriers of life, remember their strength. We can remind them that they did their best and we can help them process their birth as an experience they can learn from.
At least, we can love these women, these all-powerful carriers of life, and we can cry with them that their birth was totally disappointing and it really sucks when things don't go as planned. Tell them we understand. Sometimes that's all anyone needs.
The good-intentioned friend tries to assure her, "at least your baby is healthy..."
It's an innocent statement. We've all heard it a million times. There is certainly an undeniable truth to it. It is also terribly damaging to a woman who is mourning a birth experience.
Realistically, a healthy baby is always something to praise God for, probably especially so if there was a difficult birth or life threatening emergency involved. The problem with pointing out something so obvious though is that it's often used to indirectly tell someone, "You shouldn't feel anything but grateful that your baby is healthy." So what happens when we still feel disappointed?
Women who prepare themselves for a certain birth experience can feel devastated when things don't go as planned. I mean that word with all the weight it comes with. It can be devastating. When we tell these women, "At least, your baby is healthy...", are we hoping this masked statement of positivity will banish feelings of disappointment and inadequacy? I assume so. Is that how feelings work? Not usually.
When we tell someone to look at the bright side or to focus on the good stuff, we are not giving them the space to process their negative feelings. Negative feelings rarely go away because we tell them to, or because we're told we shouldn't feel them. Often, when we're told "At least your baby is healthy", our feelings of guilt and inadequacy are compounded by feelings of shame and perceived selfishness for mourning a birth experience while holding our perfect, healthy baby. We feel confused about why we're not overcome with joy, like we should be. We feel like terrible mothers for focusing on the negative when all that should matter is our healthy baby. We feel depressed, inadequate, guilty, broken, selfish and like a bad mother. And then we're told through so many words that all that matters is our healthy baby. Our feelings don't matter. With no safe place to go, our feelings have nowhere to go but down deep inside of us.
Birth is an intensely emotional process for a woman. I believe that if a woman doesn't recognize the power birth has in her life, there are probably other bigger things she has numbed herself to. It is the essence of our womanhood. The birth experience can shape our deepest core perception of who we are, our power as a woman; carrier of life. It's not to say that cesareans, inductions, hospital births, car births or any kind of unplanned birth experience should change our sense of self, it's simply acknowledging that it is easy to feel like our power and capabilities as a woman are reflected in our birth experience. It's as real as feelings are, right or wrong.
So what do you say to a woman that is mourning a birth while holding a perfectly healthy baby?
Maybe you don't say anything. Maybe you just love that mama, and give her a safe place to cry or even yell about how unfair it was. Maybe you ask her what about her birth she would do differently next time? Maybe you ask her if there was any part of her birth she feels proud of?
At most, we can help these women, these all-powerful carriers of life, remember their strength. We can remind them that they did their best and we can help them process their birth as an experience they can learn from.
At least, we can love these women, these all-powerful carriers of life, and we can cry with them that their birth was totally disappointing and it really sucks when things don't go as planned. Tell them we understand. Sometimes that's all anyone needs.
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