I joined a new Beta site this past week. Darren Rowse, over at ProBlogger recommended checking it out.
I received my official invite last night and spent the morning playing with it. It’s a neat site, allows you to aggregate content from across the web, social sites, and beyond into a neat “zeen” (that’s hipster for magazine, I think).
I produced a Zeen focused on “Celebrating Postpartum Voices” this morning. The theme is “A Retrospective of Postpartum Voices of the Week.”
It’s been awhile since I’ve done this but this past week, I read a post worthy of being highlighted as Postpartum Voice of the week. In fact, it’s inspired me to dive back into blogging here – I’ll be somewhat changing direction but it’ll still have the same Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorder focus. More about that in an upcoming post though. For now, I want to simply highlight this very deserving post.
Kate Sluiter blogs over at Sluiter Nation and has been doing so for 5 years now. Her writing is amazing regardless of the topic but when it comes to her experience with Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders, it’s phenomenal. Kate is an open book, bravely sharing her experience after the birth of her first son, during her pregnancy with her second son, and now, after the birth of her second son.
Last week, Kate hit publish on a post entitled “heavy alphabet soup.”
It’s a MUST READ for any parent with or married to a partner with mental health issues. She is brutally honest, transparent, courageous, and personable in this post.
My favourite part of the post is here:
“I still feel very angry that I have to deal with this at all. I don’t want it. Any of it. I don’t want to be on meds, not because I don’t want to be better, but because I don’t want to have all these letters.
I know they don’t define me. But they are part of who I am. They are part of my biological make up. They are chemical imbalances in my brain.”
Amen, Kate.
In writing these two paragraphs, especially the last one, she clarifies something very important – mental illness/letters do not define us. They are a part of us yes, but they absolutely do not define us.
Go. Read her post, “heavy alphabet soup.” Leave her some love.
We begin to wear a label at birth. Before birth, actually, if an ultrasound reveals our gender.
Boy. Girl.
Our first label determines what colour clothing our parents buy for us, whether or not we play with dolls or trucks, whether we play football or take high tea with stuffed animals, you get the idea.
Then there’s school.
Gifted. Not gifted.
Let’s not forget all the labels leveled upon us by our well-meaning and not-so-well-meaning classmates.
Slut. Four-eyes. Dork. Dweeb. Jerk. Moron. Faggot. Fat. Ugly. Cheater. Bastard.
Gorgeous. Wonderful. Fabulous. Bright. Intelligent. Honest. Promising. Compassionate.
We, as humans, crave labels. It’s what helps our world make sense.
Girl. Sister. Woman. Girlfriend. Fiance. Wife. Ex-Wife. Aunt. Artist. Writer. Mental Health Advocate. Multiple episode PPD Survivor. Christian. Music fanatic. Bacon fanatic. Football fanatic. F1 Fanatic. MotoGP Fanatic.
The above labels have described me, somewhat, at various points in my life. Sure, there are several other labels I’ve worn over the years but I choose not to claim them anymore. Some labels just never felt completely comfortable yet they were tossed in my direction anyway, and I was forced to wear them, much like Ralphie was forced to wear that horrendous Pink Rabbit costume in A Christmas Story.
One of the biggest labels tossed my way was that of “Co-dependent.” It jumped in my lap at my first meeting with my ex-husband at our Recovery group. He’d just admitted to an narcotics addiction and we were scrambling to save our marriage. According to the Recovery group we chose, any spouse of a recovering addict is automatically a “co-dependent.”
Why?
It felt like a wool sweater, to be honest. Itchy, uncomfortable, and impossible to ignore even once the fabric was removed from my skin.
Had I really become a co-dependent? Is that what my life had been reduced to while I wasn’t watching? How could I be a co-dependent when, in all honesty, I truly had NO IDEA the extent of his use? Was I still responsible for his behaviour? Had I enabled it? Condoned it? How could I have enabled or condoned it if I was unaware? Did his lack of control truly feed a need within me to be the “strong” and “responsible” one?
Yet, there I sat. In a single group of combined women, addicts and “recovering” co-dependents, forced to introduce myself as a “grateful believer in Jesus Christ and a recovering co-dependent” if I chose to speak at a meeting.
I cringed EVERY TIME I SPOKE THOSE WORDS, “Recovering co-dependent.” Denial? Maybe.
Maybe I was co-dependent and so far gone the label was like dunking my head in cold water, thus explaining the uncomfortable nature of even discussing the possibility.
But, I think, what bothered me, was that without even knowing my story, without hearing anything about how we landed in group, I had a label affixed to my soul, a label I then felt forced to use for the remainder of my time there.
What if, what if we refused to label others without hearing their story first? What if, even then, after hearing their story, we still refused to label others and instead allowed them to choose their own labels? Eventually we grow up and are able to dress ourselves, right? Why can’t we also label ourselves if we so choose?
People with mental illness are not crazy. They’re simply people who face more daily challenges than the rest of us.
People with cancer or any other illness/physical ailment? The same.
Your skin colour is different than mine? You’re still a person, right?
Gay? Still a person.
A bigot? Still a person.
Buddhist? Still a person.
Christian? Still a person.
Muslim? Still a person.
Breastfeed? Still a person.
Formula feed? Still a person.
Parent? STILL A PERSON.
Not a parent? STILL A PERSON.
Bottom line?
People are people.
We are not our gender, our sexual preference, our colour, our experiences, our talents, our gifts, our illnesses. WE.ARE.PEOPLE.
You are me and I am you.
End of story.
My goal is not only to live…but to do so unlabeled.
I dare you to do the same.
I’ve been quiet this summer, save for a few posts here and there.
As I’ve blogged before, there has been a lot of change flowing through my life lately.
I’m still running #PPDChat but increasingly quiet on Facebook and Twitter as well. I haven’t had a video chat in what feels like weeks. Between visits with my kids, falling in love, and re-defining myself (again), there’s been a lot of time spent in my head and focusing on what’s really important to me these days – actually LIVING life.
In the dust though, I’ve been ignoring this place, this blog which kept me sane during my pregnancy with my third child and has allowed so many women to feel supported and less alone as they too navigate the trails of Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders.
I’m silent here because I’m not sure what to say in this space right now. I know that working with women through the Postpartum period is something I want to continue doing. But right now, I’m not sure how to fill this space, how to speak about Postpartum Mood Disorders when my experience and understanding of my experience has literally been redefined over a lot of internal re-evaluation over this past year.
Sure, I can discuss the latest news, issues, etc, but that’s what Katherine Stone over at Postpartum Progress is best at and I certainly don’t want to duplicate her work. What I do here is my thing – it’s filled with heart, compassion, understanding, and my goal is to put forth the feeling of the comfort of reading a letter from a girlfriend who GETS WHERE YOU ARE and can assure you that there’s a light at the end of your tunnel. I freeze when I don’t feel as if I am writing with all of my heart. I freeze if I am not giving things my all. I know what it’s like to not get support and don’t want to give you anything but my very best. Because when you’re hurting and lost in the vortex of a Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorder, you deserve NOTHING BUT THE BEST COMPASSION I CAN GIVE YOU.
Right now, as I let the dust settle (again), in my life, I hope you’ll be patient and understanding. Know you can find me on Twitter. Or if you aren’t on Twitter, go follow my FB page and drop me a message there. Or email me. It may take me longer to get back to you via email though, so please be patient.
My words are somewhere out there, my passion is still burning deep inside me. It just needs a vacation as the scaffolding and remodeling continues within.
Here’s to looking forward to a grand re-opening and here’s to hoping that it’s right around the corner.
Starting a family is no small decision. Expected or unexpected pregnancy involve major decisions and choices. How will you parent? How will you care for the child? Who will be the primary caregiver? Will you share responsibility equally? Attachment parenting? Extended breastfeeding? No breastfeeding? There are so many decisions to be made once a child enters your relationship. These decisions affect family dynamics and should not be made independently of your partner. They should be thoroughly discussed and mutually agreed upon. One of you may end up having to compromise but ultimately, you must do what is best for your child within your personal parenting philosophy, hopefully with a partner who sees along the same lines.
Parents these days have a bevy of knowledgeable resources available to help with their decisions regarding parenting. Pediatricians, lactation consultants, other parents, and just about everyone on the planet.
We all love to chime in on how others parent, don’t we? Especially with the explosion of social media. Judgment runs amok when a parent asks even the most innocent of questions.
“Other men — me, for example — might be driven to engage in something even worse: sexless fidelity. Mine crystallized in Central Park one evening, while watching my wife sit under a tree with my older son, a five-and-a-half-year-old young man with a full set of teeth and chores, stretched out to roughly the size of a foal, suckling. By the time they strolled back to me and my already-nursed toddler son on the picnic blanket, I had lost my appetite — and not just for the smoked salmon. There are some things in life most men cannot share with first-graders, and two of them used to be called breasts. Now, my first grader called them boobalies, and history is written by the victors.”
Breastfeeding is recommended for at least two years or beyond by WHO, exclusive nursing for the first 6 months with complementary foods added until two years. Now, the WHO code implies “beyond” is solely between the mother and child. While I don’t think Daly’s threat of infidelity based upon his wife’s choice of extended breastfeeding is kosher, I understand where he’s coming from.
A family, when a father is present, is not just a mother and child. All too often, the father’s needs and desires are often thrown out the window. He doesn’t matter and should shut up if he so much as voices any disagreement to how his wife chooses to raise their children, run the household, or anything else.
It’s not about who wears the pants in the relationship. Feminism doesn’t mean we get to make decisions without our partner. it means we are equal to them, not above them. Isn’t that what we fought for? Not to be beneath men? So why should they be beneath us and suddenly not matter? Where’s the victory in that?
Granted, women HAVE run things in the home and the childcare realm for quite some time. But more and more, men are involving themselves in these situations. Stay at home dads are increasing in number.
Sex is also an important aspect of a relationship. It’s how we’re intimate with our partners. It’s nurturing, releases hormones, stress, and brings us closer. Yes, intimacy IS possible without sex. However; intimacy is NOT possible without communication.
That’s where I believe this issue with Daly and his wife has broken down – at the communication level.
Clearly he’s not happy about his wife’s extended breastfeeding to the point of losing his appetite. Whether he’s actually considering infidelity or not is up in the air – he may just be using that as an example. I know that when I was breastfeeding, I was not terribly keen on my husband playing with my breasts. When I’m breastfeeding, my breasts are functional, not sexual.
What many men miss is that breasts are primarily designed to be functional, not sexual. Yes, breasts are visually appealing and nipple stimulation does provide sexual pleasure for many women, but ultimately, the breast is phenomenally designed to create and make milk to feed infants, a process which starts during pregnancy.
At the end of his piece, Daly states:
“I say that the foundation of the parent-child bond is the parent-parent bond. Unlike the baby chicken or the fertilized egg conundrum, partnership precedes parenthood. That’s how you got into this position to begin with: by attracting a man who liked what he saw, and wanted to see more of what even the scientists researching extended breast-feeding call mammaries, not Mommaries.”
Daly is right but he’s also wrong. The parent-parent bond IS important to the development of a child. But many successful children are raised by single parents. We’re specifically discussing a partnership here though so we’ll address this aspect. This goes back to what I stated earlier – when you decide to have a child, how that child is fed should be a mutually agreed upon decision. Granted, that doesn’t always happen as life does not occur in a vacuum. But Daly himself states that he SUPPORTS his wife’s choice to breastfeed their sons, thereby accepting the flashing of “mommaries” instead of the “mammaries” which allegedly attracted him to his wife in the first place.
Attraction should be comprised of several things –not just appearance and physical attributes– it should include intellectual capability, sense of humor, communication skills, compassion, etc. There’s a reason eHarmony is so successful –they don’t just toss the physical at you. (not a sponsored mention.)
Physical fades. It changes. Your spouse/partner may have medical conditions (mental or physical) which impede sexual interaction. What then? If you don’t have any other basis for attraction to your spouse/partner, you’re screwed, and not in the way you desire. But is that justification for infidelity?
No.
Daly and his wife need to have a discussion about the state of their relationship because for now, I have a feeling he’s going to see a lot more of the “mommaries” than the “mammaries” if he fails to vocalize his feelings about his wife’s extended breastfeeding of their sons.
You could argue that extended breastfeeding has amazing benefits – nurturing, intellectual, etc. But you could also argue, as Daly does, extended breastfeeding impinges on the sexual relationship and therefore the intimacy of the parent-parent bond.
Here’s the thing – if your parent-parent bond relies solely on sexual interaction and seeing her “mammaries” instead of her “mommaries”? Your relationship may not have the best foundation.
Communication. THAT’S where intimacy starts. Daly should give it a shot.