"You seem to be doing really well."
-Everyone
Mmmmm. Not totally true. I am managing most of the time. But sometimes one stray comment will pull me down into a spiral.
Yesterday at work one of my coworkers became a grandfather. We were all chatting about it when he brought up how he never knew either of his grandfathers. The relationship is new for him, and he is obviously, blissfully happy.
In that moment, I realized that my husband never knew any of his grandfathers either. They both died before he was born.
I knew and cherished my two grandfathers. My dad's dad played guitar and sang for us songs like, "I can't get off of my horse..." He had huge sausage fingers and was known for being the kindest, most gentle dentist. I lost my first tooth right after he died. I was devastated.
My mom's dad was a sweetheart who laughed at his own jokes. He baked us cakes... yellow cakes with white frosting. He had an easy way of throwing back his head and laughing until he wheezed. I told a joke at his funeral when I was 17.
This is totally cart before the horse-y, but I want my husband to be grandfather. I want him to have the joy of fatherhood and grandfatherhood (a word?). I could see him taking little kids fishing, taking them canoeing, taking them to a candy store.
In order to be grandparents we need to be parents. It's a dream deferred, but I'm still hoping.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Miscarriage and the Movies
Have you ever noticed how books, movies, and the collective zeitgeist deal with miscarriage? It's like AIDS back in 1981. So many misconceptions are proliferated as facts. Let's take a look at some of the top offenders:
1. Downton Abbey - I love this British TV show set in pre-WWI England. It's such an awesome show, yet they had to insert a stupid scene that ran like a bad soap opera plot twist. Lady of the house has all daughters, she gets pregnant, they are hoping it's a male heir, a maid gets jealous, she doesn't help the lady out of the bathtub, lady slips and falls, and ... miscarriage. This is so completely ridiculous. What we know from studies is that miscarriages are caused by a range of factors that DO NOT include slipping 12 inches. Maybe you'd pull a hamstring. Whatever.
2. The Help - A fantastic book. Really, I look forward to the movie. But why is the woman who has repeat miscarriages also the socially inept, slutty blonde who locks herself in the bathroom? The woman who has miscarriages is never portrayed as the put-together high achiever. This is bigotry. This is the definition of being unaware.
3. The Hunger Games - Another fabulous book. In book two, they concoct a fake pregnancy for main character Katniss. When she isn't preggo months later, they say she miscarried due to stress. This answer is given and accepted time and time again as a reason for miscarriage. Studies have shown that the number of miscarriages HAVE NOT gone up during wars and other severely stressful times. Miscarriages are due to chromosomal abnormalities and other problems in the body. In my mind, the generic cause of "stress" is a veiled attempt to blame the woman for the miscarriage.
4. Gone with the Wind - She falls down the staircase and has a miscarriage? Maaaaaybe this is possible. If you're severely injured, which she did not appear to be in her giant, plush robe. I've never heard of a real miscarriage happening this way.
How do we dispel these misconceptions? Will miscarriage always be a dirty word, signifying some misdeed on the part of the woman? We have so much awareness for other issues. I think it's time for the myths about infertility and miscarriage to go the way of the black and white TV.
Anyone thinking of a book or movie to add?
1. Downton Abbey - I love this British TV show set in pre-WWI England. It's such an awesome show, yet they had to insert a stupid scene that ran like a bad soap opera plot twist. Lady of the house has all daughters, she gets pregnant, they are hoping it's a male heir, a maid gets jealous, she doesn't help the lady out of the bathtub, lady slips and falls, and ... miscarriage. This is so completely ridiculous. What we know from studies is that miscarriages are caused by a range of factors that DO NOT include slipping 12 inches. Maybe you'd pull a hamstring. Whatever.
2. The Help - A fantastic book. Really, I look forward to the movie. But why is the woman who has repeat miscarriages also the socially inept, slutty blonde who locks herself in the bathroom? The woman who has miscarriages is never portrayed as the put-together high achiever. This is bigotry. This is the definition of being unaware.
3. The Hunger Games - Another fabulous book. In book two, they concoct a fake pregnancy for main character Katniss. When she isn't preggo months later, they say she miscarried due to stress. This answer is given and accepted time and time again as a reason for miscarriage. Studies have shown that the number of miscarriages HAVE NOT gone up during wars and other severely stressful times. Miscarriages are due to chromosomal abnormalities and other problems in the body. In my mind, the generic cause of "stress" is a veiled attempt to blame the woman for the miscarriage.
4. Gone with the Wind - She falls down the staircase and has a miscarriage? Maaaaaybe this is possible. If you're severely injured, which she did not appear to be in her giant, plush robe. I've never heard of a real miscarriage happening this way.
How do we dispel these misconceptions? Will miscarriage always be a dirty word, signifying some misdeed on the part of the woman? We have so much awareness for other issues. I think it's time for the myths about infertility and miscarriage to go the way of the black and white TV.
Anyone thinking of a book or movie to add?
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Cheeseburger and a Baby Pls
I've been all over the place in the past few weeks. Sometimes I feel fine! Thank you! Sometimes I feel certifiable. Let me tell you about one of the latter times.
So there's this normal-seeming guy at work. He's one of those people who got married recently and had a baby right away. Pretty much every time I've run into him in the last year he has asked the same question:
"So.... are you guys thinking about having kids soon?"
I've demurred several times. Finally after my second miscarriage I said something like:
"I just had a miscarriage."
So he's like, "Oh. I have a book for you to read."
Weeks and months went by and I never heard any more about the book. I figured I had already read it, since there are approximately 2.7 books about miscarriage in the world.
Suddenly, last week, he drops by my office to give me a book called Supernatural Childbirth.
Omg, you guys.
Here are some of the claims in the book:
- all you need to do is pray and you are GUARANTEED children by God
- if you're having problems conceiving you are not praying enough
- God doesn't want you to have miscarriages, and if you're having them it's Satan, and you haven't prayed enough
- you can pray for AND God will grant you a pain-free delivery
- all birth defects are caused by Satan, and you just didn't pray enough
- women are cursed by Satan from back in the Garden of Eden
- you can select the gender, eye color, and hair color of your future child with prayer
The author claims that she was once declared infertile and then she prayed her way out of it. Now she has 4 healthy children! (Of course she gave no actual details of her supposed infertility.)
The book is full of testimonials about people who read her book and listened to her tape. They are like, "I had two miscarriages and then I started listening to your tape EVERY DAY. Now I have a beautiful baby boy!"
I wanted to shred the book to bits (might still do) and scream at this Jackie Mize for espousing complete bull shit (might still do).
But on the whole, it just makes me sad. I'm deeply saddened by this book and for the women who are desperately trying to pray their way out of tragic fertility problems that are completely out of their control.
It makes me sad that stereotypes about woman and infertility persist because of books like this one.
It makes me sad that my coworker would own and PASS ON a book like this.
It's sad and pathetic that this woman looks at her 4 healthy children and says, "I did this. Me and my amazing faith."
How narrow-minded. How sacrilegious. How pathetic.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Casey Anthony: Why Couldn't She Be Infertile?
Anyone following the Casey Anthony trial? Her web of lies is just despicable, and the evidence clearly shows that she did it. In addition to whatever sentence is handed down, I think she should be put in a room with a group of infertiles, who will then have the opportunity to say whatever they want to her for a few hours. I would have a string of profanities for sure....
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Not Preggo Over Here
Everyone around me is pregnant. Like, everyone. Even my infertile friends. Anyone out there still not pregnant?! I'm telling myself every female creature on the earth is pregnant, so that I don't feel kicked in the teeth upon every announcement.
love,
ed
Thursday, May 12, 2011
5 Ways to Get out of a Funk
My birthday and Mother's Day really put me in a funk. I'm bummed out and crying at Subaru commercials. You know the one where the mom is taking her gaggle of boys to their little hockey game? Cue tears. Anyway, this is how I'm getting out of my funk.
5. Buy stuff. One of the oldest tricks in the book. I bought a new dress from Banana Republic for an event we have on Saturday.
4. Put clothes on. Brush hair. Put makeup on. Just do it. Everything is better with good hair.
3. Join an infertility group. Mine is through RESOLVE. It's lovely.
2. Invest in friendships that help. Ditch friendships that don't.
1. Bootcamp. I've written before about the benefits of spinning. I'm changing it up by doing bootcamp twice a week. It is scientifically impossible to be grumpy in the hours after this insane workout.
Let me know if you have any more tips.
5. Buy stuff. One of the oldest tricks in the book. I bought a new dress from Banana Republic for an event we have on Saturday.
4. Put clothes on. Brush hair. Put makeup on. Just do it. Everything is better with good hair.
3. Join an infertility group. Mine is through RESOLVE. It's lovely.
2. Invest in friendships that help. Ditch friendships that don't.
1. Bootcamp. I've written before about the benefits of spinning. I'm changing it up by doing bootcamp twice a week. It is scientifically impossible to be grumpy in the hours after this insane workout.
Let me know if you have any more tips.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Part 3
Take a break from world news, sit back, and relax because here is the third and final installment of my Q & A with Pastor Elise Erikson Barrett, author of What Was Lost. We definitely saved the best for last.
You interviewed many women who experienced miscarriages for the book. What surprised you the most in your research?
This is especially interesting given your blog's topic, but there were so many women who just loved hearing some of the comments that made me want to go ballistic. The "God needed little angels in heaven" one was supremely comforting to some beautiful, lovely, bright, sincere women I interviewed. I wanted to say, "Are you KIDDING me?" but instead, I had to discipline myself to say, "Okay, this comment made me crazy, but this other woman is a terrific human being and she found comfort in this (appalling) comment. Why? What was comforting about it? What sort of underlying truth or hope did she sense in this?"
In your role as a pastor how to you see miscarriage affecting your congregation or the people who come to you for pastoral care?
You know, it tends to marginalize this whole group of people. Congregations tend to make a big deal out of welcoming children - and according to Jesus, this is right on. But there is often no acknowledgment of or space for people who are childless, particularly those who desire children greatly and have experienced pregnancy losses.
So you have this whole public narrative that sounds like, "Children's Sabbath is this week! Come to children's choir! Here's a baptism! Easter Egg hunt at the Smith's house! Family Festival on Wednesday night!" And these announcements and events just batter the ears and hearts of people who have lost babies. I've heard of people skipping Sundays when they know there's going to be a baptism or infant dedication; it's just too painful. And it's hard for people to find a place to process their grief, especially if they find themselves in a Sunday school class or Bible study group with a lot of young parents who, reasonably enough, mostly talk about their children.
I started trying to name as many of these kinds of silent, secret grief burdens as I could in pastoral prayers and sermons -- pregnancy loss, but also infertility, mental illness, dementia, Alzheimer's -- the burdens of loss people lug around in silence because they're ashamed and don't know how to bring them to their community of faith or their God. Just allowing those kinds of losses to slip into the public narrative seemed to break the seal for some people and give them a reason to contact a pastor for pastoral counseling, or just to acknowledge that they were struggling and needed prayer.
Many of my readers have emailed me to say that a certain comment made by a friend or family member has driven a permanent wedge between them. How can we try to heal these relationships without minimizing our grief?
It's so hard. I think that occasionally, the relationship was already either not all that deep or troubled to start with, and the response to the pregnancy loss seemed to nail the coffin shut, or to shake into dust something that was already lifeless. I think in other cases the relationship is important and worth preserving... which in some ways is more difficult than being estranged from your second cousin whom you only saw twice a year anyway.
You typically have at least two options, it seems to me. One is to say nothing, to let time soften your anger against that person, and eventually to come to a place where you can allow the relationship to function more or less normally, with that place of hurt covered over but still very much a part of your feelings toward the person. This can actually be the best way to go IF you have other people with whom you are processing the grief well and IF there is no possible way that you can help the person understand that what they said was hurtful. (It might apply, for example, if you have a great-grandmother who lost everyone she loved in the second World War and had two miscarriages herself, and functioned for the rest of her life by "keeping a stiff upper lip." Her worldview is almost certainly not going to change, and it may be more pain for you than it's worth to try, but by saying nothing more to her, you may find that the edges of whatever she said are smoothed over with time and grace and love.)
The second option is to approach that person and explain how they've hurt you, why what they said hurt, and to tell them a way to restore the relationship. This is certainly both more scriptural and more likely to bring deep healing to the relationship. It's also more awkward, more difficult, and more liable to explode on you. But if it's a relationship that matters to you, it's worth the risk. I think that you have to be very clear with yourself both about why the comment hurt and what you hope will come of any confrontation, so you can be clear about those things with the other person.
So, instead of, "I think you owe me an apology for what you said," you might try saying something like, "Mom, I love you, and that's why I feel like I need to talk to you. When you said, 'Think of all the money you'll save!' after John and I lost our baby, it felt to me like you didn't understand how much we were hurting. I think you wanted to help us find something positive about the situation, but it really just felt hurtful and dismissive. What I need instead is for you to just understand how sad we are, and to take this loss seriously, because we do. Maybe you would be willing to come to the memorial service our pastor is having for us at our home next week. And I have a book/blog/article about miscarriage that I was hoping you might be willing to read and then we can talk again. Would you be willing to do that?"
Sometimes it can be better to do this in a letter, particularly if the person is someone who may get defensive and lash out to protect her/himself in a face-to-face situation. You do, of course, have to be prepared to be hurt again. But nothing worthwhile -- not babies, not marriages, not relationships -- comes without an attendant vulnerability and risk.
God bless you, both you who are writing and you who are reading this blog, and may God hold and uphold you in this risky, painful, beautiful life we share.
You interviewed many women who experienced miscarriages for the book. What surprised you the most in your research?
This is especially interesting given your blog's topic, but there were so many women who just loved hearing some of the comments that made me want to go ballistic. The "God needed little angels in heaven" one was supremely comforting to some beautiful, lovely, bright, sincere women I interviewed. I wanted to say, "Are you KIDDING me?" but instead, I had to discipline myself to say, "Okay, this comment made me crazy, but this other woman is a terrific human being and she found comfort in this (appalling) comment. Why? What was comforting about it? What sort of underlying truth or hope did she sense in this?"
In your role as a pastor how to you see miscarriage affecting your congregation or the people who come to you for pastoral care?
You know, it tends to marginalize this whole group of people. Congregations tend to make a big deal out of welcoming children - and according to Jesus, this is right on. But there is often no acknowledgment of or space for people who are childless, particularly those who desire children greatly and have experienced pregnancy losses.
So you have this whole public narrative that sounds like, "Children's Sabbath is this week! Come to children's choir! Here's a baptism! Easter Egg hunt at the Smith's house! Family Festival on Wednesday night!" And these announcements and events just batter the ears and hearts of people who have lost babies. I've heard of people skipping Sundays when they know there's going to be a baptism or infant dedication; it's just too painful. And it's hard for people to find a place to process their grief, especially if they find themselves in a Sunday school class or Bible study group with a lot of young parents who, reasonably enough, mostly talk about their children.
I started trying to name as many of these kinds of silent, secret grief burdens as I could in pastoral prayers and sermons -- pregnancy loss, but also infertility, mental illness, dementia, Alzheimer's -- the burdens of loss people lug around in silence because they're ashamed and don't know how to bring them to their community of faith or their God. Just allowing those kinds of losses to slip into the public narrative seemed to break the seal for some people and give them a reason to contact a pastor for pastoral counseling, or just to acknowledge that they were struggling and needed prayer.
Many of my readers have emailed me to say that a certain comment made by a friend or family member has driven a permanent wedge between them. How can we try to heal these relationships without minimizing our grief?
It's so hard. I think that occasionally, the relationship was already either not all that deep or troubled to start with, and the response to the pregnancy loss seemed to nail the coffin shut, or to shake into dust something that was already lifeless. I think in other cases the relationship is important and worth preserving... which in some ways is more difficult than being estranged from your second cousin whom you only saw twice a year anyway.
You typically have at least two options, it seems to me. One is to say nothing, to let time soften your anger against that person, and eventually to come to a place where you can allow the relationship to function more or less normally, with that place of hurt covered over but still very much a part of your feelings toward the person. This can actually be the best way to go IF you have other people with whom you are processing the grief well and IF there is no possible way that you can help the person understand that what they said was hurtful. (It might apply, for example, if you have a great-grandmother who lost everyone she loved in the second World War and had two miscarriages herself, and functioned for the rest of her life by "keeping a stiff upper lip." Her worldview is almost certainly not going to change, and it may be more pain for you than it's worth to try, but by saying nothing more to her, you may find that the edges of whatever she said are smoothed over with time and grace and love.)
The second option is to approach that person and explain how they've hurt you, why what they said hurt, and to tell them a way to restore the relationship. This is certainly both more scriptural and more likely to bring deep healing to the relationship. It's also more awkward, more difficult, and more liable to explode on you. But if it's a relationship that matters to you, it's worth the risk. I think that you have to be very clear with yourself both about why the comment hurt and what you hope will come of any confrontation, so you can be clear about those things with the other person.
So, instead of, "I think you owe me an apology for what you said," you might try saying something like, "Mom, I love you, and that's why I feel like I need to talk to you. When you said, 'Think of all the money you'll save!' after John and I lost our baby, it felt to me like you didn't understand how much we were hurting. I think you wanted to help us find something positive about the situation, but it really just felt hurtful and dismissive. What I need instead is for you to just understand how sad we are, and to take this loss seriously, because we do. Maybe you would be willing to come to the memorial service our pastor is having for us at our home next week. And I have a book/blog/article about miscarriage that I was hoping you might be willing to read and then we can talk again. Would you be willing to do that?"
Sometimes it can be better to do this in a letter, particularly if the person is someone who may get defensive and lash out to protect her/himself in a face-to-face situation. You do, of course, have to be prepared to be hurt again. But nothing worthwhile -- not babies, not marriages, not relationships -- comes without an attendant vulnerability and risk.
God bless you, both you who are writing and you who are reading this blog, and may God hold and uphold you in this risky, painful, beautiful life we share.
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