Tuesday, December 17, 2013

soulmates

Single friends have often asked me how I met/found my husband. I promise them that our marriage isn't as idyllic as it looks from the outside, but I also know that we're pretty freaking fortunate to have what we have with each other. We met by completely random chance on a dating website. He picked me out because I wasn't looking (necessarily) for romance, I was looking for a future travelling buddy. I wasn't looking for someone to look after me, or live up to any kind of romantic ideal. Me? I was curious and intrigued by his unconventional love letters and shockingly good grammar, spelling, and mechanics.

Anyway, I read this blog post this morning and it made me think of that one time in a ritualistic setting I asked for a mental image of my soul mate so I'd know him when I met him. The image I got was of Russell, but it was not the Russell I was about to meet, rather the Russell who would be my future husband. And when I finally figured that out, it was like.... oh holy shit. I just knew. And when he did ask me to marry him, I answered immediately without thinking. And then I asked for a week to think about it, to make absolutely sure. I'm pretty certain that entire week the ground shook beneath my feet with the certainty that I'd found my soulmate. This wasn't my first marriage proposal. The others had made me feel queasy inside in a bad way. This was nothing like that.

The day of our wedding, before we walked in, my Dad told me he'd handle things if I wasn't completely sure I wanted to go through with it. I am unbelievably grateful he asked me that, because nobody else did. In a situation where most people are only focused on the event, the dress, etc., he had the guts to ask me if I was making the right decision, for me. (You should also know that he told me he really liked my future husband, and that he thought getting married was a good decision.) He'd noticed my knees were knocking and my hands were shaking. I almost started to cry and told him that the reason I couldn't stay still and could barely stand up was that I'd never been so excited about anything in my entire life.

This year has been both rough and extremely rewarding. Everyone said having a baby would change everything, and they're right. And my mum tried to get me to think about how I'd handle certain situations but I refused because we weren't like that. And sometimes we were like that. I was right about one thing though - thinking about it ahead of time would have done nothing for me because a scenario in my head is completely different from a scenario in real life involving other people. And sometimes I needed my husband to tell me what to do because I was too tired, emotional, and angry to see anything clearly. He didn't like it, but he did it. And it was okay. Not awesome, but okay.

We're both introverts too, and that is a bit of a game changer. If we do have a fight, it doesn't even start to get resolved until the next day. We need time and space to think. But I'm glad we've persevered. There is absolutely nothing in the world like being loved by someone you love.

I don't have advice for someone looking to find a soulmate. I don't really know how to find one. I guess you need to just be yourself, always, and look for someone who treats you as an equal, actually cares about you, and challenges you to be a better person because they already believe you are that better person. And you need to give that back to them as well. You also need to be able to communicate everything with that person, even if it's a sentence that starts with "I was thinking about leaving you. But I didn't." You need to be able to talk about the scary things. It helps too to understand that everyone comes with baggage. You need to be able to feel absolutely safe with each other because stuff will come up.

If I were going to search for a soulmate, assuming I hadn't found one, I'd probably do it the very same way: figure out what I really, really want in life, and search for someone who shares some of my goals. And my goals really haven't changed all that much: I want to travel, I want to dance professionally, and I want to raise my child(ren?) to be more awesome than I am, and I want to do as much of it as possible with my soulmate, while walking beside him as he achieves his life goals.









Monday, June 10, 2013

No?

First, read this: http://paronomaniac.tumblr.com/post/52524702850/take-no-for-an-answer

Then...

I don't even know where to start. If I'd learned as a child that grownups can take no for an answer, my life would have been so much safer.

If I'd learned as a child that no was a safe answer to give, I might have been able to stand my ground better.

If I ever believed that my no could be backed up by my own frightening physical power if necessary, I might not have ended up in situations where I was pleading.

I did learn all of these things, with their necessary bumps along the way. What impresses me, perhaps even more, is that my family seems to have learned them too, most of us, anyway.

I'm sharing this, as much as any reason, for the two or three people who said no to me, that they didn't want me in their lives at all. I hope they have found strength from being able to say no to me, and that it's made them better people. And I hope they read this one day and are grateful that I respect their space.

Saturday, May 04, 2013

I am pro choice and pro life.

I have always been staunchly pro-choice. It is your right to choose how you live your life, and what decisions you are comfortable being responsible for for the rest of your life. I would never dare judge you for making those decisions. I am not you, I do not know how you felt, I do not know what your circumstances were. No matter which way you chose, I offer you deep empathy. Abortion is difficult to psychologically overcome. So is adoption. And for some, so is motherhood.

My husband and I discussed abortion a couple times on long road trips. He says that the whole argument of pro choice or pro life boils down to one simple question: Are you okay with murder?

I like his definition.

This is the part where my choice comes into play. I choose life. If I were to find out this month that I'm pregnant again (my son is 4 months old), I'd go through with the pregnancy and dealing with 2 babies in diapers with bottles. We would probably need to buy a bigger house, and my mum might have to come live with us. But it could be accomplished. Or maybe we could offer to rent a room to a friend I have who loves babies and really wants to have 'em but possibly has fertility issues and prefers marriage to a sperm donor....

anyway. That's not the case. But if it were, we'd deal with it.

I am very fortunate to have that kind of support system.

Before my son was born were three long years of 2 abdominal surgeries (one open, one laparoscopic)  and tests and finally a ray of light: a miscarriage. Yep, you heard me right, a miscarriage was my ray of hope. We considered finding out where abortions were performed and standing outside the facility asking if anyone wanted to reconsider and just give us their baby (social services pretty much ignored us after they received our application for adoption).

One of my relatives gave her son up for adoption. She was unmarried and her family and social circumstances at the time were such that she felt she would have been considerably ostracized for raising the child alone, not to mention that it probably wasn't economically feasible either. I applaud her courage. She has spent more than the last 30 years wondering how her baby is doing in life, making peace with knowing that he grew up in a family demographically similar to her own. As a mother who wanted a child so badly and almost couldn't have one, I am eternally grateful to my relative for her decision. I don't know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea of how much it meant to the boy's parents.

I will defend the right to choose what to do with a couple's fetus. I would hope that they receive proper counselling on the procedure, and that they have been able to understand what a huge gift adoption can be. I realize that often this isn't the reality. And I know too that sometimes abortions are done for medical reasons - the fetus is deformed and couldn't survive, or perhaps the mother has a major medical condition that wouldn't allow her to carry a baby to term. There are rape and incest to consider too. Another family member is a nurse and did part of an internship in the incest nursery. Apparently these poor babies were born without most natural reflexes and the vast majority died within 2 years. Who would want to bring that kind of life into the world?

My choice is life. If I knew someone was thinking of getting an abortion, I would try to talk them out of it, but I would try very carefully... because whatever choice they make will be difficult for them and the last thing they would need is to feel shame from me or anyone else.

If anyone reading this is considering abortion, drop me a comment. Let's talk. Send me an e-mail at jbarrett at sasktel dot net and maybe I can figure out how to let your fetus live. I know life is the hardest choice in many circumstances, but I also feel strongly that in the lives we lead, we are never presented with anything we can't (eventually) handle, even if it seems so totally impossible at the time.

I want to hear your thoughts and comments. This needs to be talked about more.


Saturday, April 27, 2013

miscarriages and c-sections

I'll start with the easy one. Caesarian sections are major surgeries and they are traumatizing to the mother and possibly to the baby as well.

Women who are considering elective C-sections need to look at some C-section surgery photos and talk to other mothers who have had to recover from them. If you do not have some 24-hour help lined up, you will have a very, very difficult time looking after your baby. The usual weight limit for lifting after open abdominal surgery is 5 pounds. The average newborn weighs between 7 and 8 pounds.

If you have an elective section, or any other kind, it will leave you with emotional scars. It will physically hurt. This will impact how you feel about your baby.

Moving right along...

Why do women minimize our feelings when we talk about our miscarriages? I kept saying oh I was only 4 weeks, it could have been so much worse... which is true, especially after hearing a good friend's horror story about having to demand attention from hospital staff after sitting around all day waiting for a D&C to remove her dead baby... but when we talked together about our experiences, we both minimized them. Why? And why don't we talk about them more?

No matter how you slice it, a miscarriage is the loss of a new human being. It is the loss of a baby. It is also the loss of faith that your body can produce a viable fetus and carry the baby to term. It is the loss of a future together with that child. It is a loss of your identity as that person's mother. It is knowing that your parents and your partner's parents are missing out on a grandchild, and depending on their ages and levels of health, this loss could be bigger. And whether or not you have children already, be it one child or 10 little monsters, miscarriage is still a major loss. Period.

Miscarriage can also be quite traumatic if it needs to involve surgery. Mine didn't. But it was bad enough as it was. My almost-baby's demise took place in a public washroom. Flushing a public toilet is so NOT the right way to say goodbye to my little could-have-been. Would you flush a baby down a toilet as a funeral?

Listening to my friend tell her story I am amazed she is as together about life as she is. I can't imagine how hard it would be to be forced to be your own advocate for having your dead baby surgically removed from your body. This was a major health system FAIL from start to finish.

And yet my friend said a few times to me, "but it's not like I was 37 weeks or anything..."

Why do we minimize this?

When I was pregnant with my son I kept having the most hideous nightmares. It was my mom who finally figured it out - that it was because I needed to properly finish grieving my miscarriage. Everything unspoken about that loss was haunting my dreams and my life. I knew what I needed to do immediately, and it was work with clay to say goodbye, to change the ending and give my little almost-baby a proper release. I hugged the new life growing in my womb and asked my little one to hold my hand because this was going to be really, really, really hard to do.

We went to the clay shop. In a daze I got off the bus at the wrong stop and promptly tripped and fell. We were fine. The snow was soft. I found the shop and the clay they sold was more than I could carry so I took what I needed and said I'd be back early the next week to pick up the rest.

At home I drew a bath as clay work requires water, and I figured this way would be easiest to minimize mess. Then I poured out my heart to the clay, talking to my almost-baby, saying goodbye, crying, so much crying. I made a clay ball to symbolize the unborn baby and placed it so gently in a clay womb. I sealed it gently and said my farewell, and my I'm sorry about the public toilet bit.

I took the still wet clay creation into my garden for release. I set it atop a pile of snow and used more snow to bury it further. It steamed.

I left my unborn wrapped in snow and walked back inside. I could see the spot from the kitchen window.

Now my son is born and it is spring. The snow has melted, and there is a spot in the middle of the garden where the clay has broken down into lumps. Everything is as it should be, and I no longer have nightmares.

But I still minimize my loss. I need to learn how to acknowledge it for what it is in the company of others. And as a community of women, parents, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, grandparents... we all need to help those of us who still grieve to stop minimizing our losses.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

an open letter to the editor of the Toronto Star regarding a column published yesterday

Dear Editor,

I can't believe you published Rosie DiManno's column about the recent sexual assault of a young male.

The column further perpetuates the image of the media engaging in a culture of victim blaming/shaming. This is completely unacceptable and irresponsible of a major news institution such as The Star. I hate to have to do this, but I remember being in journalism school way back when, and one of the first things we were taught was that our primary responsibility was to present the news in an unbiased manner.

I understand that commentary is not meant to be unbiased, but I think perhaps in the future it might be wise to consider having a different reporter write commentary on sexual assault cases.

The victim did not want to be assaulted.

The perpetrators should not be assumed to be wanting sex simply because they were wearing club attire.

If I were ever a victim of assault, and God forbid I were also male, I can promise you that reading something like Ms. DiManno's commentary would not make me want to talk about it with anyone. Ever. Assault is horrible enough as it is, regardless of what kind of assault it is, and to read something in the mainstream media that shames, blames, and somewhat facetiously ridicules both the victim and perpetrators is not the least bit helpful to any of the parties involved in the incident. It is also not at all helpful in changing public perception. Assault of any kind is not okay! Any message conveyed by the media other than that is tactic approval of assault.

I would love it if your team of commentary reporters would pull together to do a feature section on assault and rape culture in our current society. It's time that comes to light and is treated with the gravitas it deserves.

Sincerely,

Jen

Wednesday, April 03, 2013

An open letter submitted to the manufacturers of my favourite and also most loathed pads.

Hi,
The packaging on Always Infinity pads makes me sad. I don't have any female friends who can finish my sentences. Also, this has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with me having a period. Also, as someone who has the worst menstrual cramps ever from severe endometriosis, I would like to punch whoever came up with the slogan "have a happy period." My periods aren't happy. Never have been, probably never will be. I would greatly appreciate it if the best disposable pads of all time (which Always Infinity are, for sure) didn't remind me that once a month I will want to curl into a ball and die for about a week. This slogan also felt particularly insulting for the 4 years I spent in between endometriosis surgeries until I was *finally* able to conceive and give birth to my son. My periods weren't happy then. They were constant reminders that my body had somehow failed me in a way that was mostly beyond my control. And please don't even get me started on how I felt having to use pads when I had my miscarriage. (That was before my son. He is alive and well.)

But don't let this all be criticism. What kind of ad campaign would I like to see? Something that acknowledges the strength and raw power of a creature that bleeds for a whole week, once a month, yet strangely doesn't die. In spite of my previous troubles, my body, and the bodies of other women, are completely over-the-top AMAZING.

Please honour that and stop making me feel shame, sorrow, hurt, and rage for not living up to your ideal of a "happy period." Please make your slogan as awesome as your product.

Thanks,
Jen

Friday, March 08, 2013

a post on privilege for International Women's Day

What better day for a quick feminist rant than International Women's Day 2013, also, incidentally, the first day of my first postpartum period? I say, let loose the birth-control-fueled rage! :-)

(No, really, the birth control I'm fortunate enough to have access to (married, white, middle class Canadian woman) makes me excessively and unreasonably irritable and mentally unbalanced. For reals. A non-documented side effect that I can't find on any product monograph, but it's happened twice, 14 years apart, so it must be true!)

My rant is simple. I live in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. (look it up on google maps if you've never heard of it.)

I am one half of a white, middle class, home-owning family with our first child. I run my own small business, my husband works in the trades, we share a car, etc.

But don't you dare for one moment think we've been treated equally as parents.

This is one case where the system is inherently biased toward women in such a huge way... but would we ever have noticed it if my husband wasn't an involved dad?

In the hospital I got a free TDaP booster. My husband got a mat on the floor and a hospital sheet.

In the hospital, all information was directed at me, and occasionally when I asked if we could wait to make sure my husband was there too, well, apparently that doesn't get requested all that often.

Information was mostly directed to moms. A social worker actually said "well and I guess dads too" and actually made an effort to include my husband. (Why was that even necessary? Shouldn't all information just be for parents? What if a gay couple adopts?)

The last straw was today, taking my son for his first immunizations. Under guardian information is my name.

Only my name.

ARE THEY EFFING SERIOUS????

If I drop dead, public health has nothing on file about our child's father.

If I can't make one of his immunization appointments because who knows why, maybe I'm on my death bed sick or maybe I just seriously feel ill at the sight of my son crying, public health would see my husband and say oh, who are you?

I'm not okay with this bias. I don't need to be treated like a rock star at the expense of even acknowledging my husband's existence. I can see it might work for a single parent family, but NOT ALL SINGLE PARENTS ARE MOMS.

And this line:

MOMS ARE NOT ALWAYS THE MOST INVOLVED PARENT IN A CHILD'S LIFE. Sometimes it's the dad. Sometimes it's actually shared equally.

How the hell can we expect an equal parenting society to evolve if the entire system is biased against it?

(Yes, I know I only have the privilege of this rant because I am a middle class, married, white, Canadian woman. And I'm damn grateful for that privilege.)

Happy women's day.