"Yesteryear" by Caro Claire Burke

I finally picked up "Yesteryear" by Caro Claire Burke, one of this year's "buzz" books, after hearing a lot about it on. I've always liked time travel novels, and this promised to be one  -- or, at least, to contain a time travel element as part of the storyline.  

Natalie Heller Mills is a "tradwife," raising five homeschooled children (and pregnant with #6) in a rustic home (which is nevertheless equipped with all the modern conveniences) on a ranch known as "Yesteryear" in rural southern Idaho. She's married to Caleb, the rather hapless youngest son of a powerful U.S. senator who has presidential ambitions. 

She's also a highly successful social media influencer, who employs a producer as well as two nannies/teachers for her children, so that she can focus on being in front of the camera. She's clearly modelled on Hannah Neeleman of Ballerina Farm and other social media tradwife influencers,  with echoes of Tara Westover's "Educated" (setting in the mountains of rural southern Idaho, Ivy League scholarship, fundamentalist religious upbringing, etc. -- although in Natalie's case, the denomination is unspecified).  

On the surface, Natalie's life seems idyllic. But it quickly becomes evident that she's seething with rage and insecurity, as she tells us (in a first-person narrative) about her life, her family, and how she got to this level of fame and fortune.    

Then one morning, Natalie wakes up and abruptly finds herself somehow transported back to the year 1855 (!) -- actually living the traditional back-to-the-land life she's represented.  The story pivots back and forth between the story of Natalie's marriage to Caleb and how she became an "influencer," and the bewildering world she now finds herself in, with a husband she calls "Old Caleb" and four children, who are familiar in some ways and not at all in others. 

It didn't take me long to realize I disliked Natalie -- a lot. She didn't improve much over the course of the book -- although I felt a certain amount of sympathy at her bewildered and terrified reaction to waking up in 1855. I'm not sure any of us would have reacted any differently! (Still, there was a bit of schadenfreude, watching her having to practice/live what she preached...!). 

But an unlikeable heroine is not necessarily a deal-breaker for me in a book. It was an interesting premise, if not always smoothly executed, and it sure kept me turning the pages. I'd heard there was a twist ending, and a little about what it involved. But even so... let's just say I did not expect what ultimately unfolded!

ALI/CNBC note:  Obviously, this is NOT an entirely "safe" read for us, given the subject matter...!  Notably, there's a home birth described near the end of the book that I found difficult to read. 

4 stars.  

This was Book #23 read to date in 2026 (and Book #5 finished in August), bringing me to 57% of  my 2026 Goodreads Reading Challenge goal of 40 books. I am (for the moment, anyway...!) 2 books behind pace to meet my goal.  :(  You can find reviews of all my books read to date in 2026 tagged as "2026 books."  

New year, new grief

(**CONTENT WARNING:  Sudden death;  some graphic details.**)

My first experience with death came when I was about 4 years old. We'd briefly had a puppy, Honey -- the only dog we ever had -- who proved to be more of a handful than my parents had bargained for. We'd rehomed her with my grandparents on their farm, who loved animals -- but she was run over by a car, a few months later.  :(  

I vividly remember sobbing in my mother's arms when she told me Honey was gone, and how she tried to comfort me by telling me that Honey was in heaven now, and that the streets of heaven were paved with gold.  I asked Mom if there would be lots of bones in Heaven for Honey to chew on, and other dogs to play with, and she said she thought so, and that made me feel a little better.  

Who is going to make me feel better now? 

My mom collapsed and died at home, late in the afternoon of Thursday, Jan. 1st (New Year's Day), just a few days shy of her 85th birthday. 

We got here on Dec. 21st, and had a nice Christmas together, Dh & I set up and decorated the tree (and Mom thanked me and complimented me on it at least twice).  My sister & I did much of the food prep, cooking & cleanup (with contributions from Dad, who still fries the fish on Christmas Eve, carves the turkey and monitors the progress of the potatos & veggies.  :) 

Mom has complained about her sinuses for as long as I can remember, and she's always been a night owl.  Since she retired, about 20 years ago, she has prowled around the house for half the night, every night (shuffling around with her cane, these last few years) -- and then languished in bed until at least noon (and often much later). But she was up early the day after Boxing Day, I think, complaining that she'd had a "terrible night." My sister & I took turns bringing her tea and toast in bed, and noticed she had a horrible rattling cough in her chest. She hadn't had either a covid shot this fall or a flu shot (hadn't had one since she worked in the school).  After a couple of days of this, my sister threatened to take her to the doctor if she wasn't feeling at least a little better the next day. The next day she WAS feeling a little better (but still not eating a whole lot), but still spent most of her time in bed. She didn't play cards with us on New Year's Eve, or stay up till midnight, I think? 

Weirdly, she was up at 7:30 AM when I got up on New Year's Day (!). She sat in an easy chair in the living room for a while and I brought her tea and toast while she watched the Rose Bowl Parade. She dozed on & off through the day, then asked for a glass of Coke and a chocolate chip cookie (! -- that was my mom...!). I managed to persuade her to have a bowl of cereal and a glass of apple juice instead, and got those for her. My sister & her partner had to work the next day and left to head back into the city shortly after 4 PM. Mom hobbled upstairs to the bathroom and was washing up while I checked the supper situation. 

We'd used up most of the Christmas leftovers, the fridge was pretty bare, and most stores and restaurants in town were closed for the holiday. It was looking pretty bleak (and my hungry dh was NOT HAPPY), but then I remembered we'd frozen some of the leftover fish we'd had on Christmas Eve. There was enough left for a couple of pieces each for the four of us. I asked my dad how about that along with some baked potatos & veggies for dinner? and he thought that was fine, but said, "Ask Mom." 

The door to the bathroom was closed, I knocked and went in, and asked her about the fish, and for the first time in days, she kind of perked up and seemed interested in food. So I closed the door and headed back downstairs to the pantry in the utility room on the ground floor at the far end of the house. I was picking out some potatos to bake when I heard a loud THUMP.  Dh yelled at me that it came from upstairs and that I should check on my mom.   

I went upstairs and knocked on the closed bathroom door.  

No response. 

I opened the door -- and saw my mother's legs, on the floor (partly blocking the doorway). 

I pushed the door open -- and my mom was laying on the floor.  

There was no blood, but her eyes were open, staring vacantly. I screamed and called to her (over and over) and squeezed her hand -- but there was absolutely no response, no flicker of recognition. There might have been a slight movement of her chest at first, but it was soon gone. She let out one long, raspy breath, and then, nothing. Dh & my dad came upstairs. My poor dad took one look at her, started crying, and retreated to his chair in the living room.  

I yelled to dh to call 911, and he did. He put the operator on speakerphone and she coached me through CPR while we waited for the police and paramedics to arrive (which took a while, as they serve a large rural area)... but I knew in my heart she was already gone.  :(  Dh also called my sister (on my cellphone) and told them to come back quickly (they were almost to the city by then).  The police arrived first (three guys in three separate cars, one after the other) and then the ambulance, and they worked on her for a while but could not revive her. It is likely just as well.  Mom was already so frustrated by her poor physical condition and limitations. She would not have wanted to linger in a life that was less than the one she was already living.  

I had to tell my sister when she arrived that Mom was gone. (She later told me they'd had to park out on the street because of all the cars in the driveway, and that every house in the bay had its lights on with neighbours looking out the windows... she called it "the perp walk"...!)  

Dad asked me to call the minister at Mom's church, and she rushed over. The EMTs had laid Mom on the floor of the room where dh & I were staying (!), and covered her up with an afghan, but I could see the top of her hair sticking out the top, and her foot out the bottom. I took the minister up there and she prayed over Mom with dh & I present. When she was done, I pulled the afghan down a little, but I could see Mom's eyes were still open, so I pulled it back up again. I watched as the undertakers wheeled her body, in a black bag, out of the house, and watched as their van (not a traditional hearse, thank goodness) pulled out of the driveway with Mom for the last time.  

Dh & I were supposed to return home on Sunday, Jan. 4th. We immediately made plans to rebook our flights (and were able to do it relatively easily online, albeit at a cost of $400 more than what we'd already paid for our already-expensive tickets...!), and will now be heading home this weekend instead -- two weeks later than originally scheduled. By the time we get back, we'll have been away an entire month!  BIL has been checking on our apartment, starting the car to keep the battery alive, collecting the mail and watering my one poor surviving plant. 

The next week went by in a blur. I was getting just 3-5 hours of sleep a night (it's gotten a little better since then).  I was EXHAUSTED.  (I even took a couple of afternoon naps. I RARELY take naps!)  Endless phone calls and messages to make and take, kind neighbours dropping by to offer condolences and food. At one point we had something like 6 or 8 dozen buns in the house (!), many of them homemade. (Gotta love small towns...!)  We ate some, put some in the freezer, gave some to Parents' Neighbours' Daughter (PND), and my sister and her partner took some home as well. 

Notably, one of my best friends from high school showed up at the door on Sunday afternoon, after driving an hour-plus from her home, bearing a couple of containers of lasagna and cannelloni from a deli in the city, as well as homemade banana bread (which was delicious).  She stayed for half an hour to chat and then drove home again.  And one of my dad's former coworkers brought over an entire dinner one night -- a big chunk of excellent roast beef, mashed potatos, gravy, veggies, homemade buns, and a dessert called Harvest Cake with thick caramel icing that was absolutely fabulous.  (My sister remarked that this woman missed her calling;  she should be a chef instead of a realtor, lol.)  My sister took home some of the leftovers, but there was still enough for another dinner for dh, Dad & me, as well as meat for sandwiches for lunch for a couple of days too.  

I could only make so many of those kinds of calls in a day. I called my mom's childhood best friend/matron of honour and her cousin/surrogate big sister (also my godmother), back to back, and that just about finished me off.  They both already knew from other people, but I still felt that I should call them, and they were still very emotional calls. Eventually, I asked my dad & sister if it was okay to just post something to social media, and did.  I felt badly that some people found out that way, but by then we'd made funeral arrangements, and wanted to get the word out to as many people as possible, as quickly as possible.  

And, yes, we had a funeral to arrange. Dad asked the funeral director if he could come to the house, and he said of course (again, gotta love small towns...).  That was a marathon 2-3 hour session.  Dad wanted to get the funeral over with as quickly as possible.  The medical examiner did not think an autopsy was required, but she did ask if they could take Mom to the city to be tested for flu & covid. That would have delayed the funeral by a few more days, so Dad decided no. So we will never know exactly what happened.

Mom was cremated (the funeral home in town has its own crematorium). My sister & I picked out a nice outfit for her to wear (although we chose not to see her again), and dh & I picked out an urn for her ashes. My sister has taken it home with her, but we will pick a plot or niche at the local cemetery in the spring for her and Dad, and have a private family internment ceremony then, when the weather is nicer.  The funeral was Jan. 8th, one week after Mom died.  I did not think I had the time or the emotional bandwidth to write and give a eulogy or to organize a photo slide show (and my sister thought pictures would upset Dad more than he already was), so we left most of the service to the minister, and she said some nice things about Mom herself.  

I did write the obituary that appeared on the funeral home website and in several newspapers. On an ALI (adoption/loss/infertility) note, you can bet I made sure that "granddaughter Kathleen  (Katie)" was mentioned.  On another ALI note, one of my mom's cousins offered to send me some photos. I told her photos are always welcomed -- but I was rather taken aback when she emailed me a zip file -- labelled with my mom's name, but in addition to photos she'd taken of my mom, there were photos of her parents and family, including her little grandson.  Needless to say, I did NOT need to see photos of someone else's grandchild (and/or the reminder that my mother never had any living grandchildren, not will I have them myself), especially just then...! 

Being Christmastime, and winter ( = iffy weather/driving conditions), and lots of illness going around, plus the issues with the border right now (and many Americans not having passports), we were missing a few people who might otherwise have come to the funeral.  But there were still 75 names in the guest book, and probably about 100 in all. My aunt/dad's youngest sister came out from the city with her oldest son (my cousin), and a couple of my other cousins on my dad's side, many of whom I hadn't seen in years.  My mom's cousin's daughter made the trip over the border from their hometown in northwestern Minnesota. My sister's best friend since junior high came from the city -- I hadn't seen HER in at least 30 years. And I was absolutely floored when Mom's childhood best friend walked into the church hall after the service with her husband!  They came all the way from South Dakota to be with us. Our neighbours/best friends from childhood were unable to come, because their sister/aunt's funeral was the same date & time (!) in the city, but the middle sister and her husband took a slight detour en route home and stopped here for about an hour to visit. I hadn't seen her in about 10 years, and that made a hard day better.   

My sister and her partner returned to the city this week. Dh & I have been keeping Dad company, playing cards every night, doing jigsaw puzzles, etc.  Making sure he's eating.  Poor Dad.  :(  They bickered endlessly -- but 65 years of marriage is 65 years of marriage, you know?  We're pretty confident that he can manage most things by himself, short term, anyway -- he's slowed down a lot in the last year or so, but he's generally in better shape than Mom was, and he has some really wonderful neighbours who look out for him/them regularly as it is --but (much to our relief) he is planning to put the house up for sale within the next year, and find something smaller/easier to keep up, likely within one of the local seniors housing developments. 

Needless to say, dh & I will be back here a few more times than usual over the next year, helping him out, and helping my sister and her partner with the huge cleanout that will be necessary before a move takes place.  We've already started:  Dad asked us to put away Mom's personal things, which we did right away.  Then we spent a couple of afternoons emptying out the night table and sorting through the contents, as well as some of the contents of the drawers and closet in the room where I sleep when I'm here.  There were LOTS of books, and we packed the best into a box and took it to the local library to donate to their sale table.  We also gathered up all of Mom's coats and jackets from three or four different closets around the house (Mom collected coats & jackets like some women collect shoes & purses...!) and took them to the local thrift store. I also emptied out Mom's drawers in the bathroom vanity, and tossed a LOT of stuff from there. (Umpteen half-used tubes of lipstick and cover stick... eye drops, nasal spray, ancient tubes of Benadryl cream, etc. etc.). (Not just one, not two, but FOUR almost-empty bottles of Jergens body lotion, anyone??)  We want to go through her closets and make at least an initial cull of her clothes, before I leave.  

Monday was my birthday -- my 65th birthday. (I am now officially a senior citizen!!  and I will be receiving my first Old Age Security payment from the federal government next month!... eeeekkkkk....)  I keep saying that one of these days, I'm going to spend my birthday on a beach somewhere. I thought for sure I'd do it for my 60th, but that was during covid, when everything was shut down and no one was going anywhere.  Obviously this birthday wasn't it either.  It wasn't the birthday I wanted or imagined -- but this is where I need to be right now. It was, as you can imagine, a pretty low key day. My dad did not remember!! -- and I told dh not to remind him. I knew he'd feel bad about it.  Of course he remembered today -- Mom had written it on the calendar that sits beside the telephone. I told him I didn't feel in a party mood anyway, we had more important things on our mind, and that dh will take me out for dinner or something when we get back home.  I did get some lovely messages via text, email and social media, and my friend who stopped by to see us after the funeral -- who will turn 65 later this year -- called me and we talked for an hour.    

Back to the opening of this post:  Mom told me when I was little that the streets of heaven are paved with gold.  In my mind, I've decided that if there is a heaven, it looks a whole lot like my Grandma's kitchen (only a whole lot bigger) -- and Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, my uncle (who died in 2024) and all the aunts, uncles and cousins we've lost are all gathered around the kitchen table, laughing and talking and drinking coffee from a pot that's endlessly percolating on the stove, just like they used to when I was growing up.  And they're just waiting for the rest of us to join them.  

That gives me some comfort. 

As I said in my 2025 Year in Review post, "Life is short, and tomorrow is not promised. I am more and more aware of this with each passing year."  

Hug the people you love;  tell them what they mean to you, spend that time with them.  You will never regret it. 

*** *** *** 

So that is why I have not been present here lately. Not a great start to 2026.  :(  We've been busy since we got here on Dec. 21st -- I don't think I even opened my laptop until a few days after Christmas! -- and obviously our stay here has been longer and more eventful than we had planned.  I do intend to publish my Year in Books soon, and possibly my Year in Blogging (both drafts in progress). I'd already started drafting a "Right Now" post for early January;  I'll probably combine that and do a double post for December/January in early February. 

One more thing:  my family has played Kinsmen Jackpot TV Bingo (from Winnipeg) for more than 50 years now, at least since I was a teenager.  My parents have continued to play every Saturday night, and whenever I'm here, Dad will buy extra cards & I'll play along with them. We had cards for last Saturday's game -- and I WON.  The initial jackpot was $60,000+;  after 50 numbers it dropped to a guaranteed $10,000. Which doesn't mean that I/we will get $10,000 -- there's usually several winners every week, and they had already declared at least one by the time we managed to get through on their phone line. Last night, we learned there were 24 winners, which means we'll each get somewhere in the vicinity of $400+.  It's not $10,000, but it's something!  (Either Mom was pulling some strings, wherever she is now -- or she's really pissed off that I won the minute she left the picture, and she missed it all.  ;)  ) 

A few odds & ends for the weekend

• Goodness knows IVF (and the entire fertility industry) is far from perfect, and could use some better regulation/oversight -- but over the past 45+ years, IVF has nevertheless brought a lot of children (and a lot of joy) to families who desperately want them -- including Washington Post columnist David Von Drehle, who recounts his family's personal experiences with the procedure in "The perverse zealotry of the anti-IVF movement." (Gift link.)  Subhead: "If they knew what patients endured, antiabortion extremists might learn more about caring for unborn babies."  
• On the same front, from Jill Filipovic:  "Why You Should Care About Southern Baptists and IVF." (Subhead:  "They are a bellwether for where Evangelicals are headed. And they're coming for fertility medicine.")  
• Stirrup Queens is an adult! -- Mel is marking 18 (!!) years of blogging and building the online ALI (adoption/loss/infertility) community.  :)  I've been reading her almost that long, and I know I owe her a lot -- I'll bet many of you do too.  Go offer her congratulations on this milestone. 
• Lesley Pyne is wrapping up her blog, after 11 years, 225 posts and a book! Go wish her well and thank her for everything she's contributed to our community. 
• The elections in the U.K. got Sarah at Apricot Lane Coaching thinking about what a party platform that recognized single/childless people might look like, which led her to write "A Manifesto for the Childless Not By Choice." (She's got my vote -- I loved it!)  

Odds & ends

• It's World Childless Week!  And there's tons of great content posted already for today's topic, "Our Stories."  Head over, dive in, check out the upcoming webinars scheduled for the rest of the week, and show your support!  
• It's LGN's first day of school!  (junior kindergarten)  Dh & I were constantly refreshing our Instagram feeds this morning, looking for photos (lol) -- and Older Nephew and his wife did not disappoint, posting some shortly after dropoff. :)  
• Dh texted Older Nephew as soon as we knew school was out to ask him how it went. The teacher said he had a good day, and LGN reported he had a lot of fun!  Yay!  :)  
• On the other side of the coin:  An oldie but goodie from the archives of Life, Almost, about surviving back-to-school week when infertility and loss are part of your story. Sample passage: 

In the first week in September, the online chorus from mums of ‘please don’t get any bigger!’ and ‘where has my baby gone?’ seems to get louder. It’s unfair of me, perhaps, but I find these declamations hard to hear and even harder to sympathise with. They hurt, frankly, when your doorway is empty.




• While sitting in the waiting room of a bloodwork lab last week, I noticed a poster on the wall that said "Learn more about your baby's health..." Except that, at first glance, I took it to read "your baby's death."  Only a loss mom, right?? 
• Do you live in the Bay Area of California and suffer from endometriosis?  Right now, diagnosis takes close to a decade and requires surgery -- but a company called Endometrics is currently recruiting volunteers to beta test a new, faster, non-invasive diagnostic test. They are also planning a clinical pilot with several clinics in the Bay Area. More details at the link above, as well as here! 
• Lori Lavender Luz is co-hosting a discussion of "The Giver" by Lois Lowry, though the lens of adoption, on Thursday, Sept. 28th. Details here! 
• This piece on surrogacy in Canada by Alison Motluk is long but a worthwhile and eye-opening/sobering read.   
• I recently learned about a (relatively) new Christian organization/ministry based in Ottawa, offering support for infertile and childless couples. Here's their website (which I will add to the list of resources on this blog), and here's an article from this time last year about it. 
• This New York Times article has nothing to do with pregnancy loss -- it's about a group of people whose family members died in a plane crash, 50 years ago, and the long-term effects of their loss -- but I found it incredibly moving. (Gift link.) 
• I started laughing when I read this First Person essay in the Globe & Mail: "I became a Torontonian accidentally. It's not so bad after all." (Gift link.) Let's just say I can relate! (and you might have to be Canadian to truly appreciate this one!). I'd share it on Facebook -- if I could share it (no thank you, Meta...  :p ) -- partly as an explanation to all the people back "home" (out west) who raise their eyebrows and ask me skeptically, "So, how do you like it in TORONTO?" (knowing they'll never believe me anyway if I tell them I like it just fine), and also to explain to non-Canadians why TROC (the rest of Canada) disdains this city (and why I find myself defending it, despite its flaws).  Both viewpoints are represented in the comments. 
• As a subscriber to the New York Times's morning newsletter, I've been getting invitations to play the weekly Flashback quiz, where you're asked to place a series of historical events in the correct order. I haven't kept track of my scores from week to week, but so far, I've been doing pretty well! 
• I recently learned that Connie Schultz (an Ohio journalist I've followed on Facebook for a while now -- who also happens to be the wife of Ohio Senator Sherrod Brown) has a new Substack newsletter. I immediately subscribed (for free, although I love her writing so much that I'm considering shelling out for a paid subscription) and happily spent a couple of hours perusing the archives. One of her early posts -- "Single Mothering, Still" -- struck a chord.  Obviously, I've never been a single mother, but if you read this excerpt (or follow the link to read the whole thing), I think you'll understand:  

Recently, a reader chastised me for continuing to refer to my single mother days. “Your kids are grown, and you need to grow up, too. It’s all behind you now.”   

I responded with a question, but I already knew the answer. That reader has never been a single parent.

There is no erasing who I was for a decade of my life, just as my daughter can never stop being the girl who was raised by a single mother...  

My daughter and I had a different life from the one I had imagined before she was born. It was a good life, she has assured me, no matter how many times I stumbled.

Churches, community & childlessness

Jessica Grose, who writes about parenting, families and relationships for the New York Times, has recently been exploring why Americans are moving away from organized religion. The fifth and final installment in her series, published June 28th, is about "What Churches Offer That ‘Nones’ Still Long For" -- i.e., "the ready-made supportive community that churchgoers can access."  She points out that secular communities seldom offer the same level of support to their members that churches/temples/mosques can and often do. 

This is the passage that I found especially interesting (and relevant, as a childless woman)(boldfaced emphasis mine)(and while Canada is not quite as religious a society as the U.S. is, I think the same statements largely apply here too):  

As the authors of “The Great Dechurching: Who’s Leaving, Why Are They Going and What Will It Take to Bring Them Back?,” all of whom are pastors, write:

In our opinion, America is largely built for a specific type of person. If you belong to a nuclear family, graduate from college, and have children after marriage, America’s institutions tend to work better for you. If you get off that track (or never started on it), the U.S. is a more difficult place in which to thrive.

They go on to say that church culture can feel unwelcoming and even shaming to people who are struggling financially or have family structures outside of the model they describe. What’s more, they write:

Modern American churches are financially incentivized to target the wealthy and create a space where those on track feel comfortable. Biblical hospitality, though, is so much more than just throwing money at a problem, and the net result is that the average American church is not truly hospitable to the less fortunate, making them feel like outsiders in our midst.

Many readers who replied to my query mentioned leaving churches that rejected them during their divorces. Others talked about being constantly hit up for money they couldn’t afford to donate.

I’d like to see faith communities do a better job of including people who aren’t on that, if you will, ordained track. Not because I think people need to be religious to live good lives — I don’t believe that — but because almost everyone needs community to flourish. As the Harvard political scientist Robert Putnam, whom I spoke to for this series and who wrote “Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community,” has been preaching for decades, increasing social isolation is bad for all of us.

As Carson Curtis, 36, who lives in Arizona, wrote about missing a general sense of community from attending church, “Being socially atomized is hard on the spirit.”

I've written on this blog about my own struggles with/ambivalence about religion and faith over the past 25 years, as I also grappled with pregnancy loss and permanent involuntary childlessness.  Dh & I have never been especially religious (especially in an organized religion/church sense), but we thought it was important for our children to have some grounding in basic religious/Biblical knowledge, and so we started going to church regularly when we started seriously thinking about starting a family.  And the church and its rituals did provide us with some comfort and kindness in the aftermath of our daughter's stillbirth.  

But as time went on, and the women who had been pregnant at the same time as me showed up in the pews with their adorable babies in tow -- and then a second, and sometimes a third! -- while I struggled with infertility treatments, it became harder and harder to face Sunday mornings. Churches can be wonderful, welcoming places with lots of programming and activities geared towards children and families -- but they're not so great when you don't fit that particular mold. (Some denominations/congregations, of course, are better/worse/more or less welcoming than others.)  I know I'm not the only infertile/childless woman who has felt this way!    

Of course, church isn't the only place where childless/free people can feel like the odd ones out. We're not plugged into those other communities/networks that parents have regular access to and take for granted -- kids' schools and parent/teacher organizations, their sports teams and other extracurricular activities. I see friends on Facebook regularly posting photos of themselves out for dinner with the "soccer moms" and "dance moms" that they've met and formed friendships with through their kids' activities. I have no such "mom friends" to socialize with, even on a superficial level. 

Since moving here seven years ago, I've sometimes mused about going back to church -- not so much because I'm feeling a spiritual void, but -- yes -- for the community aspects -- to meet people and make some connections, build my network a little. I haven't done it -- yet. I guess I like my lazy Sunday mornings too much...! But it's something I've considered. 

Grose is optimistic:  

After talking to readers searching for fresh answers to life’s eternal questions, I believe that there is potential for new kinds of meaningful, lasting communities to be created in the coming years that have nothing to do with organized religion as we know it. I’m eager to see what comes next, because I believe that out of this evolution, Americans can create something nurturing that is also suited to modern life.

Let's hope so...! 

World Childless Week, Day Five: "It's All in God's Plan"

It's Day Five of World Childless Week, and today's theme tackles the thorny issue of religion. 

Comments referring to religion easily fall off the tongues of strangers, friends and family without consideration of who they are addressing or how their comments may be received. Have you been upset, shocked or angered by the ignorance and cruelty of a religious based comment and how did you deal with the conversation? 

Why do you feel remarks touching on religion are inappropriate? 

Some personal religious background:  I was brought up Anglican/Episcopal, although we attended the United Church of Canada during the five years when we lived in a town with no Anglican congregation, and I attended Catechism classes with my best friend there, who was Catholic. As an adult, my church attendance has been sporadic. We joined an Anglican congregation when we were hoping to start a family, because we agreed that our children should learn something about God and faith and the Bible -- if only because the Bible is the basis for so much of our literature and other cultural touchstones. You miss out on an awful lot if you don't know your Bible stories and verses...!  

The parish we attended was lovely and supportive in the aftermath of our daughter's stillbirth -- we held a small family funeral service there -- but as time went on, and the women in the pews who had been pregnant at the same time as me returned with their babies to baptize -- and then a second, and a third -- it got harder and harder to remain. At the same time, encouraged by the then-minister, the congregation began taking on a more American-style fundamentalist/evangelical flavour, which made both of us increasingly uncomfortable, and we gradually drifted away and stopped going. We have yet to attend a service locally since we moved here six years ago. 

These days, I'm mostly ambivalent about church attendance, and religion generally. I believe Jesus (who, by the way, had no children...!) had the right ideas about how people should treat each other, and think it's sad that so many churches and so-called Christians have strayed so far from those core messages. I take some comfort in the ritual and liturgy and hymns of my youth (some of which I can still sing by heart) -- but I do not believe it's necessary to attend church regularly to be a good Christian, or a good human being. I don't believe any one religion or denomination (and certainly no one person) has all the answers. 

The pronatalism inherent in so many religions and denominations is an obvious and painful problem for many childless/free people.  "Be fruitful and multiply," we are told. The stories of Sarah and Hannah and Elizabeth are hammered into our heads -- barren women whose faith was ultimately rewarded with a child. 

I don't know why some people get babies they don't want and others desperately want babies they never get. I don't know why my daughter didn't get to stay with me. I don't know why I was never able to have another child. "God needed an angel," some would tell me. "It's all in God's plan." (Like that's supposed to make me feel better??) "She's in a better place." (Better than being with me & her dad??)  "Everything happens for a reason... we'll find out, someday." 

Well, vague promises of "someday" aren't good enough for me. What reason could possibly be good enough to justify taking my child from me??  The God I believe in (to the extent that I believe in God) would never deliberately do that, to me or any other parent. 

As I've often said: if there is a God and a heaven, and I get there someday, He & I are going to have a very lonnnnnnggggggg talk....!   

After our daughter was stillborn, someone recommended the book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" to me -- by Harold Kushner, a Jewish rabbi who lost his son. It's been a long time since I read it, but I do remember I found it tremendously comforting. 

Most of my posts on this subject have been tagged "religion/faith" -- although you might find a couple under "WTF?" and "people are idiots," lol. 

Check out today's content on the WCW site, including community members' contributions (new ones being added every 15 minutes throughout the day) and a free, live webinar at 2 p.m. Eastern Time hosted by Stephanie Phillips and featuring four childless women with diverse religious backgrounds. This webinar will be recorded and uploaded to the Day Five page for anyone who cannot make the live event. 

Here we go again...

By now many of you will have seen Pope Francis's recent comments about the "selfishness" of childless people, particularly those who choose pets over babies. (And for those of us who have not been able to have the children we wanted, he suggests we... just adopt. Yep -- we got "bingoed" by the Pope!)  

I suppose it's par for the course for the head of an institution that has long tried to dictate its members' reproductive lives and has a vested interest in promoting large families (one way to grow your customer base!).  And it's not the first time he's called out childless people for their "selfishness." 

But it's disappointing nevertheless. I thought he was a little more modern and a little less dogmatic than some of his predecessors;  I guess I was wrong...  (He once famously said "Who am I to judge?" about gay people... obviously his reluctance to pass judgment doesn't extend to us...?!).  

Already Jill Filipovic (who is childfree by choice) has penned a wonderful rebuttal that points out that "Actually, Maybe it's Selfish to Have a Child." A few sample quotes: 

• "...why are those without children the only ones accused of being self-involved? Why aren’t we talking about how deeply selfish it is to bring a child — or multiple children — into a world that already cannot sustain its 7 billion inhabitants?" 
• "Why does that reality — that most people enter parenthood for primarily self-interested reasons — trigger such anger?  And could pressing this particular button perhaps encourage a little more consideration for the many people who do not have children by choice or circumstance, and are often told that we’re selfish for not reproducing? Could it maybe push us toward a more thoughtful conversation on reproduction and self-interest?" 
• "It’s also worth noting here that while parents invest a lot of time into their kids and into organizations that are kid-adjacent, people without kids give a whole lot of their time and money to good works that don’t directly benefit members of their own immediate families. Having a child does not transform someone from selfish to selfless; it just transforms them into a selfish person raising a kid."
• "To put a finer point on it: it doesn’t actually matter if the choice to have children, or the choice to forgo them, is a selfish one. “Why have kids?” is an interesting question to explore, and it’s unfortunately one that typically merits the most pat of answers. But maybe the reality is that people’s reproductive lives are complicated and the concept of “choice” doesn’t really capture the full picture; that parenting well requires huge amounts of personal sacrifice but perhaps women shouldn’t be expected to sacrifice quite so much; and that treating one’s parental status as somehow reflective of a person’s character or moral worthiness is extremely silly."

(There's also this somewhat satirical piece from The Cut, with this delicious headline: "Childless Man Says Not Having Kids Is ‘Selfish’."  :)  ) 

"The Child Catchers" by Kathryn Joyce

I had just finished reading "American Baby" (reviewed here) when another adoption-related book caught my eye -- recommended in a Jan. 13th post by Nora McInerny (of the podcast "Terrible Thanks for Asking") on her borealisbooks Instagram account. 

It took me longer to get through "The Child Catchers: Rescue, Trafficking, and the New Gospel of Adoption" by Kathryn Joyce than my 24-hour speed read of "American Baby" -- it's a longer book, with an incredible level of detail to wade through -- but it was still an absorbing read and a solid work of investigative reporting. Joyce examines how Christian churches -- mostly Protestant evangelical denominations, but also Catholics and Mormons -- have become a driving force behind the rise in both domestic and international adoptions. Adoptive families now include not just infertile couples, but families who already have biological children but feel "called" to add to their families by adopting one or more (sometimes many) children. 

There are several key reasons why adoption has become a popular cause in Christian churches, which Joyce expands on throughout the book. First, there's the idea that adoptive relationships mirror the relationship we have with God (God has "adopted" all of us as his children).  Second, adoption has become a big part of anti-abortion politics (Christians urge women to put their babies up for adoption instead of having abortions, so perhaps they should adopt some of them themselves?). Finally, adoption is seen as a means of fulfilling "the Great Commission" -- the Biblical mandate that Christians spread the Gospel (which commands them to care for widows & orphans). Effectively, Christians see themselves as "saving" the children they adopt twice -- first, from a life of poverty and neglect, and second from a life without God. 

Unfortunately, increased interest in/demand for adoption has led to supply issues, and increased pressure to find more and more babies and children to adopt.  Fewer children are available for adoption in North America today (because of better/easily available birth control and safe and legal abortions, as well as reduced stigma around single motherhood) -- but mothers at home and abroad (Joyce details past and present adoption programs in South Korea, Guatemala, Haiti, Ethiopia and Liberia, among others) are (still) being pressured into relinquishing their children for adoption, often without knowing exactly what they are agreeing to. 

The numbers of "orphans" supposedly needing homes varies wildly, depending on which sources you consult and how you define "orphan." (Some suggest that any fatherless child might be deemed an orphan -- i.e., single mothers are, by definition, unsuitable parents.)  Joyce makes the case that many children being adopted from abroad are not "true" orphans:  many have living parents, siblings, and/or other relatives who might care for them -- some of whom believe their children are being given the opportunity to attend school in the States and will return to them in a few years' time. While many families are sincere in their desire to adopt, and many children are happy with their new families, there have also been failed adoptions and cases of physical and sexual abuse. This has given rise to some interesting new movements among adoptees and birth mothers to reconnect adoptees with their birth families and cultures, and to influence adoption policy. 

If you're interested in the subject of adoption -- or telling childless/infertile women like me that we should "just adopt" -- you need to read this book.  (It was published in 2013, and I find myself wondering how much -- or how little -- has changed in the years since then?)  I consider myself fairly well read on the topic, but this was still an eye-opener for me in many respects. 

4 stars on Goodreads.  

This was Book #6 read to date in 2021 (and Book #1 finished in February), bringing me to 17% of my 2021 Goodreads Reading Challenge goal of 36 books. I am (for the moment, anyway...!) 3 books ahead of schedule. :)  You can find reviews of all my books read to date in 2021 tagged as "2021 books." 

"God Land" by Lyz Lenz

Before I downloaded & read my last book, "Belabored" by Lyz Lenz (reviewed here), I had already purchased a copy of Lenz's previous/first book, "God Land: A Story of Faith, Loss, and Renewal in Middle America." I don't remember where I first heard about it, or Lenz (Twitter, maybe?), but there was good buzz around it and, after reading & liking "Belabored," I decided "God Land" would be my next read. 

The small, declining Midwestern towns Lenz writes about here -- in Minnesota, Iowa, the Dakotas -- are familiar territory to me. I'm Canadian, but my great-great grandparents were early settlers in the northwest corner of Minnesota in the late 1870s. The family prospered;  Great-Great Grandfather was known locally as "Squire."  But by the early days of the Great Depression, my great-grandfather (their son) lost first his wife and then his farm. Several of his older children found work (and then spouses) in Iowa, along the Mississippi River, and many of their descendants still live in Iowa today. Great-Grandfather moved the younger children "into town," including my teenaged grandfather. 

That's where my mother was born, and where I spent much of my childhood summers. It's the seat of a rural, agriculture-based county, and even when I was a child in the 1960s and 1970s, it was still a bustling, Mayberry/Norman Rockwell kind of place, where everyone knew everyone, including me & my sister ("those little girls from Canada") -- where the stores stayed open late on Thursday nights and cars lined the main street, where the county fair was the highlight of the summer and maybe even the year, where neighbours regularly dropped by for coffee & my grandmother's home-baked goodies, and where my cousins, friends, sister & I were free to roam so long as we were home for supper. It was almost exclusively white and Scandinavian, with the seasonal exception of the migrant Mexican workers who arrived every summer to work in the sugar beet fields outside of town.  

By the time I went to university in the late 1980s, the town was already starting to decline. The sign as you entered town read "population 1,497" for years and years;  these days, it's under 1,000. There are gaps on the main street where stores used to be, and many of the buildings that remain have long been empty. The pretty, wood-panelled, century-old Episcopalian church my grandparents attended and were buried from disbanded its dwindling congregation a few years ago, and the building was sold to a breakaway group from the local Lutheran church, which split over the issue of LGBTQ ministers.   

(I digress...) 

*** *** *** 

Lenz was born in Texas and brought up in a conservative, evangelical Christian family, who moved to South Dakota and then Minnesota when she was a teenager. Even then, she questioned and chafed against the restrictions of her faith, dying her hair and wearing T-shirts with Marxist slogans.  In Iowa, she & her conservative, evangelical Christian husband went from church to church (and even started their own at one point), searching for a home where they both felt welcomed. Lenz finally found comfort in a liberal Lutheran congregation with a female pastor and a rainbow LGBTQ flag hanging in the entry -- but it proved to be the breaking point in her marriage when her husband refused to attend with her. All this happened just as the 2016 election was taking place (she voted for Clinton, he voted for Trump), tearing apart the country as well as Lenz's family. 

This book intertwines Lenz's personal story with a look at the state of faith in Middle America, and Midwest culture itself.  Lenz visits congregations that have survived despite the odds against them, and some that haven't -- small country churches, multicultural congregations and suburban megachurches. She attends a training session for new pastors serving rural communities, where there's lots of talk about guns (and she wonders why nobody has yet designed a similar course to explain urban living to rural residents). She writes about how many churches marginalize women, LGBTQ people, people of colour & of other faiths. She explores the connection between religion and sports.  And much more. 

It's not a long read (about 170-180 pages, depending on which edition you have) -- I finished it in a little over 24 hours. My enjoyment of the book was marred only by the typos I spotted. It does tend to be episodic -- I suspect some (much?) of the material was probably repurposed from articles Lenz wrote for other publications. 

(ALI note: I also winced when Lenz wrote about using her children as a way to connect to the other women at a pastor training session dinner. What would someone like me do in the same situation??:) 

I feel both at home and wildly out of place. I'm the journalist, not a pastor and not even married to one and at this point, not married for much longer. No one knows what to say to me. But I have kids, so I talk about them. The funny bon mots about my children are the safest conversational currency I have. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have them to help set people at ease and bridge the divide that they already feel just knowing that I'm a woman alone with an occupation. There is welcome, but there is also an unspoken reserve, and I spend a lot of time trying to put people at ease with my presence. (Chapter 9, "Bridging the Divide")

But overall, I really like Lenz's writing. Lots of books over the past four years have attempted to explain the red/blue divide in America and the psyche of the Trump voter -- e.g., "Hillbilly Elegy," "White Working Class," "Strangers in Their Own Land"....  This one should be added to the reading lists. It's not a comprehensive text by any means, but it's a compelling read, with lots of food for thought. 

Four stars on Goodreads 

This was Book #30 read to date in 2020 (Book #6 finished in August), bringing me to 100%!! of my 2020 Goodreads Reading Challenge goal of 30 books. I have now completed my challenge for the year, and am (for the moment, anyway...!) 12 (!) books ahead of schedule. :) (I guess I finally found my COVID reading mojo, lol -- and anything I read after this will be gravy.)  ;)  

You can find reviews of all my books read to date in 2020 tagged as "2020 books." 

"The Home for Unwanted Girls" by Joanna Goodman

"Another tragic one??" one of the women at the last meeting of my library book club commented, as we flipped through our copies of the next month's selection.

Yep.

Most of our book club's picks over the past year have dealt with some pretty heavy (even depressing) material.  "The Home for Unwanted Girls" by Joanna Goodman fits this description. It could be categorized as an ALI (adoption/loss/infertility) read, in part -- adoption, grief and loss (including pregnancy loss) are among its themes. It is also based on a true and shameful chapter in Quebecois/Canadian history -- one I knew nothing about before reading this book.

The title of Hugh MacLennan's 1945 novel, "Two Solitudes,"  has become a metaphor for the historically troubled relationship between English and French Canadians, and their social and cultural isolation from each other.  This tension forms the backdrop for "The Home for Unwanted Girls." The story is set in 1950s Quebec, which was ruled, iron hand in iron hand, by longtime Premier Maurice Duplessis and the Catholic church.

Our heroine, Maggie Hughes, is the oldest daughter of a mixed marriage between her French-Catholic mother and Anglo-Protestant father. As a teenager, she raises the ire of her parents when she falls in love with Gabriel Phenix -- a poor French boy who lives and works on the neighbouring farm -- and then becomes pregnant.  Maggie is ordered to never see Gabriel again.  When their daughter Elodie is born, the baby is whisked away to be adopted, and Maggie is told to forget about her.

But she can't. She and Gabriel marry other people, but Maggie never gives up hope that she will find her daughter someday. Meanwhile, Elodie grows up in a church-run orphanage, hoping that someday her mother will come to find her. The story shifts back & forth between Maggie & Elodie's stories.

I knew about some of the abuses that have been uncovered in church-run institutions, but I'd never heard of the particular brand of horror that little Elodie endures. Because of a new law that provides more funding to psychiatric hospitals than to orphanages, Quebec's orphanages are converted into psychiatric hospitals -- a move that enriches both the provincial government and the Catholic church. Elodie and thousands of other young "orphans" are declared mentally ill. Their education abruptly ends, and they are forced to help the nuns care for the other residents.

This is one of those books I'm not sure I would have picked up without the book club.  It was sad and sometimes downright grim, detailing the abuse these children suffered. There were a couple of subplots (one involving Maggie's father and Gabriel's sister, and another involving Maggie's uncle) that felt superfluous & didn't really contribute much to the book overall.  But it did keep me turning the pages (particularly once Elodie's story started unfolding) to find out what happened next and how it would all turn out. I shed tears in the final few chapters.

Three (3) stars on Goodreads -- 3.5, if I could assign half-stars.

*** *** ***

Sample ALI-related passage (marked with a post-it note):  Maggie -- who recently had her third miscarriage, post-Elodie -- is having coffee with her old school friend, Audrey, currently pregnant with her third child.

"Listen," [Audrey] says, "Before we get into things, how are you coping, Mags?"  

Maggie tips her head. "Coping?"  

"I know you're having a hell of a time getting pregnant," Audrey says, her voice turning sympathetic. She lowers her voice and whispers, "The miscarriages."  

Maggie flicks her ashes into the ashtray. "Where did you hear that?" she asks.  

"Oh, you know Dunham," she says. "Violet, I think."  

"I've had a tubal washing," Maggie tells her. "The prognosis is good."  

Audrey is obviously rooting for Maggie to get on the baby bandwagon. People seem to have so much invested in a married woman getting pregnant within the accepted timeline. It troubles them when it doesn't happen, as though some universally agreed upon contract has been tampered with or disturbed. Maggie can actually feel the unspoken championing of her success at fertility, the simultaneous panic if she were to fail. (pp. 163-164) 

This was book #42 that I have read in 2019 to date, bringing me to 175% (!) of my 2019 Goodreads Reading Challenge goal of 24 books.  I have completed my challenge for the year -- currently 18 books beyond my  goal -- and I have surpassed my reading total for 2018 by 15 books.  :)

#MicroblogMondays: Visitors

Dh, BIL, SIL & I went to see FIL on Saturday, and to extend our condolences to dh & BIL's stepsister & stepbrothers who (as I wrote earlier) lost their own father suddenly last week.

FIL was in bed the entire time we were there -- & it looks like that's where he's going to be spending most of his time now. :(  He didn't have his teeth in, which made it difficult to understand him (even if you understood Italian, which is what he's mostly speaking now), but SIL managed to get the gist of most of what he was trying to say. She, stepSIL & I propped him up with pillows and he looked more like himself then -- although he is so painfully, horribly thin. :(  He's not eating much again. But he still loves his espresso coffee. ;)  He seemed to recognize us all (he doesn't always). His breathing is good (even though his one lung is completely collapsed), his heart rate & blood pressure are normal. He even sang for us a little, which brought tears to my eyes.

Whether it's his dementia, the drugs he's been taking, or... something else... FIL has been seeing people lately who aren't actually in the room. In fact, a lot of the people he's been claiming to see (his one sister and her husband, for example) are... ummmm.... dead. He saw stepSIL's father... the night he died. BEFORE they found out he was dead.

At one point, SIL told me he was asking her who "the girl" was. "You mean (stepSIL)?" she said. No, not stepSIL. A young girl. SIL shrugged. "Maybe he's thinking of (his grandsons'/our nephews' wives)?" she said to me.

It struck me then:  he was asking about a young girl.  Say, about 20 years old, maybe??

Was it possible he was talking about his only granddaughter? MY daughter?? Who was stillborn 20 years ago, next week??  Was she there, watching over her nonno, waiting for when he could join her & nonna?

We'll never know for sure (in this life, anyway)... but it's comforting to think so. (I find it comforting, anyway...)

(I didn't say anything to SIL... but I told dh when we got home.)

You can find more of this week's #MicroblogMondays posts here. 

Seriously??!!

I saw this on Pinterest.

My jaw literally dropped. 

I have spent the past 20 years trying to rebuild my shattered life, after it became clear the life dh & I had originally planned was simply not going to happen. 

And yes, it's a pretty good life, when all is said and done. I wouldn't say it's better (or worse). Just different.

But you cannot -- CANNOT!! -- tell me that God "took my daughter away from me" -- first, because I don't believe God (at least, the God I believe in) would ever be so incredibly cruel as to deliberately "take away" my daughter from me -- and second because I could never, ever believe God had "something much better" in mind for me than to let me be a parent to my daughter and watch her grow up.

I mean, seriously??!!  SERIOUSLY??!!

Stuff like this crap is what gives religion a bad name... :p 

#MicroblogMondays: "The Handmaid's Tale" season finale

** CONTAINS SPOILERS** 

Last night was episode 10, the season finale of "The Handmaid's Tale" on Bravo Canada. It ended exactly as the book did -- and if that was the end of the series, I would have been satisfied. I rather liked the ambiguity of the book's ending -- that we were allowed to form our own opinion as to whether June/Offred stepped into the darkness, or into the light, as she herself put it.

That said, I am looking forward to the next season. Generally, I don't like it when movie or TV adaptations of a book I loved make significant changes or expand beyond the original material. But so far, that's worked pretty well for "The Handmaid's Tale." The fact that Margaret Atwood is a "consulting producer" on the show is a good sign, I think.

The relationship between June/Offred & Serena Joy, the Commander's wife, was at the centre of this episode.  As usual, I swung between feeling sorry for (& empathizing with) Serena Joy and yelling "YOU BITCH!!"  at her on the TV screen, lol.  When Fred told her "Go to your room" and she left -- but not before telling him Offred's baby was not his and knocking the Scrabble board & pieces off his desk -- I was cheering her on. (Although, as even she herself admitted, she helped write some of the rules that are now used to oppress her.)(The look on Fred's face when he hears that Warren's wife asked for the harshest punishment for his extracurricular activities with Janine was priceless. You could almost hear him thinking, "Uh oh...")  I could even understand her hurt over discovering that Fred had been taking Offred on "outings" beyond the monthly "ceremony" (although it didn't seem fair to take it out on Offred as she did).

But when she showed June/Offred her daughter -- while June/Offred was locked in the car, screaming & clawing at the windows -- able to look at, but not to touch or speak to her daughter -- and then cooly got back into the car & resumed her knitting with the threat, "As long as MY baby is OK, yours will be OK too"  -- she deserved every curse word that June hurled at her through the window (along with the ones I was shouting at the screen, lol). (That was something that went beyond the book material... I remember Serena Joy showing Offred a photo of Hannah, but not making any explicit threats.)

For me, one of the key lingering images from this episode was Serena Joy prostrating herself on the floor in front of Offred's developing pregnancy test, praying for a positive result. OK, I know many of us have prayed over a pee stick ourselves. ;)  But it brought home to me her desperation to have a child, and how high the stakes were. In a world where women are only valued for their fertility and their relationship to the men in their lives (if Serena Joy weren't married to the Commander, what would her status be in Gilead??), what else is there for her?  If you want to put it in the Biblical language used by Gileadeans (terminology??), it struck me that Serena (& Gilead) had made an idol (a false idol?) of fertility, of pregnancy (albeit not of the handmaids themselves, who were endowed with these powers & carrying these babies...), & was worshipping at its feet. Isn't that something of a sin itself?

I was also struck by the scene where Fred comes to Serena as she is setting up the bassinet in the nursery (already!! -- the pee stick is barely dry...) and promises her that once the baby is born and Offred is sent away to her next handmaid posting, "we'll be a family."  This is something that Janine shouted to Commander Warren as she teetered atop the bridge in the last episode: that he promised her they would take the baby & run away together and "be a family." In Gilead terms -- and in the minds of many today, still -- "family" equals man, woman & child (preferably children, plural). A couple alone is not considered a "real" family. A woman is not a "real" woman if she doesn't have a child.

Gilead may be a fictional creation -- but as Atwood said when she wrote it (30+ years ago!), everything in it has happened somewhere in the world at some point in history. And it's still happening today (more than ever, it seems, in some ways), even in North America.

This is beyond a "microblog" post, but it's what I'm thinking about today. ;) Have any of you been watching? Thoughts?  (Any Emmy nomination/award predictions?? -- I think there are quite a few deserving performances here, most especially Elisabeth Moss as June/Offred.)

You can find more of this week's #MicroblogMondays posts here. 

Odds & ends

• Little Girl Next Door -- my yardstick for how big Katie might have been, what she might have been doing, how she might be dressing, etc. etc. -- turns 12 very soon. For all intents & purposes, however, she is already looking & acting scarily like a teenager. I've noticed a big shift in attitude lately. Until just recently, whenever we'd see each other coming & going, she'd wave enthusiastically, yell out, "Hi Sam! Hi Lori!" and sometimes come over & regale us with longwinded chatter. During the recent March break, however, we saw her coming & going with her friends several times (cellphones in hand)(!!), & were lucky if we got a perfunctory nod. I had to laugh, though -- I saw them leaving one evening, tote bags & pillows in hand, obviously headed for a sleepover. For all their grownup airs, they both still had teddy bears sticking out of the back of their bags. ; )
• Speaking of 12-year-olds... dh & I have to attend a funeral visitation this weekend (nobody close, but a relative's inlaw). There will be lots of his relatives in attendance, including one of his cousins & his wife. The oldest of their two sons is 12 -- his mother was pregnant with him at the same time I was pregnant with Katie. Katie was stillborn in early August, he was born in late September, & Katie was due in mid-to-late November. Difficult as it sometimes is to hear about what he's doing in school, etc., I'm always thankful that (a) he's a boy & (b) his parents are often yelling at him. ; )
• Interesting article in the New York Times about the preference among some (mostly evangelical Protestant) religious congregations for married ministers. Preferably with stay -at-home wives (who presumably have lots of time & energy to spare to helping run the church -- free of charge, of course). And children, of course. How many great ministers are these congregations missing out on because of their insistence on conforming to a certain ideal?
• So many new people -- YOUNG people, most of them women in their early/mid-20s, unmarried -- have joined us at work in recent months. And each time I get talking to one of them, up pops the question: "Do you have any kids?" I just tell them no. Sometimes I'll add that I have two grown nephews. I can see that they are so eager for role models, for someone to tell them that it's possible to have it all -- marriage, motherhood, a career. I'm always sorry to disappoint them. Although (proud feminist though I am) I'm not entirely convinced that it IS possible to have it all -- all at once, anyway. (Which certainly doesn't mean we should stop trying.)
• I've been thinking a lot about work issues lately & the relationship between work and childless/free life (and MY childless/free life, specifically) -- fodder for a future post, perhaps....

"Compassion doesn't mean pity"

Dh & I have become huge fans of Bill Moyers' Journal on PBS. It's on Sunday mornings on our local PBS station, although I believe it's on Friday nights most other places. It features long, in-depth interviews with thoughtful, well-spoken guests that sometimes run for the entire hour -- something you'll never see on network television.

His guest this week was Karen Armstrong, a former British nun who has written extensively about religion and society. Her current project is the Charter for Compassion, a multi-faith project which recognizes and promotes the Golden Rule ("Do unto others") as a common thread running through all major world religions.

Right near the beginning of the interview, I sat up & grabbed for a pen to take notes when Armstrong said this:

"Compassion doesn't mean feeling sorry for people. It doesn't mean pity. It means putting yourself in the position of the other, learning about the other. Learning what's motivating the other, learning about their grievances."

How often have I said, or heard other bereaved parents or infertile couples say, "I don't want pity. I HATE feeling pity from others." What we all want, I think, is some genuine compassion -- to feel that someone is listening to us, at least trying to understand us and what we are dealing with. Being respectful of our experience. "Abiding with us," as Mel at Stirrup Queens has said.

Armstrong feels that compassion is sadly lacking in today's world, and is trying to do something about it. If only there were more such people!

You can read about Armstrong, watch a video of the program or read a transcript at Moyers' PBS site, here.

Questions from Mrs. Spit

Mrs. Spit was recently asked to answer five questions on her blog. Having answered them (in her usual thoughtful way), she then asked who wanted to be "interviewed" by her. I was one of the ones who signed up, and here are her questions to me (and my answers).

1. You work in banking, which is traditionally a man's world. How have you coped with this? Is it easier for younger women now?

I consider myself a writer (who happens to work for a bank), not so much a banker, per se. I work in the bank's public affairs/corporate communications department. I tell people that I really don't know a lot about any one part of the bank -- but I can probably tell you a little bit about a lot of different aspects of the business, and who you could contact to find out more.

My father was a branch banker for 30 years (with two different Canadian banks)(before switching to selling real estate at the age of 50), and I worked as a teller at a credit union one summer when I was in university (albeit in a pre-computer age when I had to handwrite pink debit & white credit slips for each transaction) -- so banks are places that I grew up around & feel comfortable with. You kind of absorb the atmosphere, like osmosis. ; )

My sister also worked for a bank for something like 17 years before they closed her unit & moved all the operations to Alberta, putting her & about 120 of her coworkers out of work. She now works for a credit union too. When we were growing up, we had to move every 3-5 years because of our dad's job, which we hated, & we swore up & down that we would never marry bankers. We now like to joke that, to paraphrase Gloria Steinem, we have become the men we didn't want to marry. : )

Traditionally, communications/PR has been a pink-collar environment, and my department has always been female-dominated -- although men have always held most of the senior positions, & there are more men working here generally than there once were. Most of my immediate coworkers were women for many years. Only in the last couple of years have I had male colleagues that I work with closely. (At one point, a few years back, I did notice that three of the most senior positions in my department at the time were held by men, all of whom had at least three children each & a stay-at-home wife. Hmmm. Kind of gave me pause. We've come a long way, but there's still a long way to go.)

But yes -- although women make up more than 70% of the employees, have made great strides in breaking into the executive ranks, and while Canadian banks are some of the more women-friendly employers around in terms of benefits, etc., it is stilll an industry where men tend to hold most of the power. When I first started working for the bank, almost 23 years ago, there were very few female executives. I think there was one, maybe two at the senior vice-president level, & that was it; that was as high as they went. Today, 7 out of the 21 members of the executive team (executive vice-president level & up) are women, several of whom have children. (It wasn't all that long ago, maybe 10 years ago, that I saw my very first pregnant female vice-president -- & I remember realizing that was a "first" and getting a little thrill out of it. ) But there are still areas of the bank that are very male dominated & testosterone-laden.

I can think of a few examples of sexism that I encountered, particularly early on in my career. Never anything too blatant, but stuff that makes the younger girls go "Oh my God..." whenever I tell the stories to them. For example -- I showed up for work one of those first few weeks wearing pants, & one of the older women took me aside & told me, "We don't wear pants here, dear. What if the Chairman saw you?" Well, what if he did?? This was 1986, not 1926. Still, I knuckled under & went shopping. (The same woman told me that, back in the 1960s, the most senior woman in the Personnel Department used to go around with a ruler & measure the girls' skirts. Anything too short & you got sent home to change.) Around the same time that I was pregnant, 11 years ago, the dress codes began to relax and "business casual" became acceptable. Aside from occasional hot, humid summer days when I will wear a dress or skirt (sans pantihose), I don't think I've been out of pants since then. Much nicer in our cold Canadian winters!! (not to mention more comfortable)

I was at a banquet once, in those early years, & speaking with one of the older senior executives. He said to another older male executive, as I stood there, "This little girl here..." I think I was 26 at the time. I smiled sweetly through clenched teeth. I decided that since he was almost old enough to be my grandfather, I would forgive him, but if anyone younger than my father ever referred to me as a "little girl," I would speak up. Fortunately, that has not happened.

And I remember being at a meeting (not that many years ago) where I made an observation, & nobody said anything. About 20 minutes later, a guy said almost exactly the same thing -- & everyone laughed & thought he was brilliant. I practically had to pick my jaw up off the table -- it was something straight out of a textbook on sexism in the workplace.

I have never been hugely ambitious -- so it's not like I have had to cope with jealous rages watching men advance into more senior positions that I was lusting after. I'm ambitious in the sense that I like my job, want to keep it : ) and want to do good work. But I never aspired to be a vice-president, or anything like that. Particularly when I knew I wanted a family -- and even since I abandoned that dream. I like working for myself; I have never wanted to be responsible for other people (besides which, I am a lousy delegator). I suppose some people without children throw themselves into their jobs, but I like having a life. I don't think I'm lazy, but I just don't want to have to put in the kinds of hours that are expected of someone in a more senior position than mine. It's not worth it to me. But I am happy to see women who ARE ambitious and DO want to advance up the ladder do so, and get credit where credit is due.

Well, that's a long & rambling answer. Did I actually answer the question?

2. You have written so eloquently about how you struggle that there will be no one left to remember you when you die, as Katie is already gone. Have you ever thought of ways to leave your mark on the world?

Wow, this is a tough one, and yes, it's something that I struggle with. I believe we leave our mark on the world through the people we touch, particularly our extended families. Nobody will know or remember you better than your own child, of course, but I have many relatives in our extended family that I remember with love, & I like to think that I will remembered in the same way by others as well.

I hope that our two nephews will remember dh & me fondly when we're gone (they'd better, since they're probably going to inherit everything, lol) -- although I often feel that they are closer to dh than they are to me. They have the scrapbooks I have made for them (& I plan to make more) . I'm going to do one of me & dh and someday I'd like to write a memoir of sorts, just to tell my own story for anyone who might be interested.

Dh & I have also often said that if we ever win the lottery, or accumulate any good sum of money, we would like to establish a memorial fund in Katie's name, & through that, give money to organizations that support bereaved parents & do research into the causes of pregnancy loss & infertility. That would be a great legacy to leave.

3. You have been such a kind and welcoming person to all Dead Baby Mum's. What is the hardest part about welcoming new dead baby mum's?

It's always hard to welcome a new person to the "club" -- a club that none of us asked to join. Sometimes when I listen to their stories, the rawness & freshness of their grief is overwhelming. It both transports me back in time & makes me realize how far I've come in my own journey. Probably the hardest part is knowing there's really not much that I (or anyone else) can do to help them, except listen. We each must find our own way on this new path we've been thrust upon.

It's also hard seeing the parents get younger & younger -- a sign that time is passing on, & I'm getting older. I'm starting to feel that age gap a little more often lately. We had a very young (barely out of high school) unmarried couple come to group once (young enough that they realistically could have been MY kids) who had had a miscarriage and were keen to try again. Their parents were not in favour of the idea. I didn't/couldn't say anything, of course, but privately, I agreed with the mother!!

Dh & I have actually been talking about winding down our facilitating role later this year. We've been doing it for almost 10 years now & we're thinking that maybe it's time to let someone else take over. I've enjoyed it (not sure that's quite the right word...!), and it's only two nights a month (plus a few phone calls before each meeting), but it does take a lot out of you. And perhaps it's time for some new perspectives -- for the group and for us.

4. What is your idea day.

Do you mean my "ideal" day? Money no object? Well, I wouldn't be at work. ; ) I would sleep in. Go to the spa & get pampered. Have lunch or maybe afternoon tea with a girlfriend at a nice restaurant & then spend the afternoon shopping. Meet dh for dinner, & then a movie or maybe a play afterwards. Ahhhh....

Of course, an ideal day could also involve sitting on the couch all afternoon with a cup of tea & a good book or stack of magazines. : ) I'm pretty easy to please.

5. You've talked about worshipping at an Anglican Church in times past, and how it was too painful to stay. If you could change how the church responded to you, and to Katie's death, what would you change?

Actually, the church responded very nicely to us after Katie's death. The assistant curate who conducted the funeral service was absolutely wonderful. The minister was away at a conference in England at the time but came to visit us at home after he returned.

The pain came from witnessing the typical, everyday (well, every Sunday) moments that would seem perfectly normal & acceptable to anyone else, like watching the children return to the service from Sunday School, witnessing baptisms, seeing parents all around us with young children, seeing women who had been pregnant at the same time as me come to church with their new babies... and then get pregnant again... and again... I'm not sure how you could change or control that.

To be completely honest, pain over babies was not the only reason we gradually stopped attending church. For one thing, let's say that we didn't entirely see eye to eye with our minister on certain matters, & weren't entirely comfortable with the direction he was taking the congregation in. I tend to lean to the traditional (which in the Anglican church has usually meant a middle-of-the-road, "live & let live" attitude), & often found myself checking to see that yes, we really were in an Anglican church.

For another -- we started attending church regularly in anticipation of starting a family. We'd had a little difficulty finding an Anglican minister to marry us -- my parents had just moved & the local Anglican minister was not keen to marry a couple that (a) he didn't know well (b) didn't regularly attend church (c) wouldn't be a regular member of his congregation after the wedding (which ticked off my mother, who is about as faithful an Anglican as they make them & had already been pitching in to help out at the church from the time she & Dad moved there). (We wound up getting married by the (female!) Anglican chaplain in the chapel at the university where we met.)

I knew I wanted my children to be baptized -- & I knew that most ministers would not baptize your child unless you had attended their church for awhile. And I wanted my children to go to Sunday School, to know something about God and get a basic knowledge of the Bible and its stories. (Religious considerations entirely aside, Biblical literacy is so important to a deeper understanding & appreciation of so much of our literature.) And I liked the idea of continuing the Anglican/Episcopal tradition in my family for yet another generation.

So we started attending church regularly. And we enjoyed it, & got a lot out of it. I enjoyed the liturgy, the old familiar hymns, the connection to my own childhood memories. I still do, anytime that I do go to church.

But when the baby was gone -- and as it became more apparent that there weren't going to be more babies -- that particular reason for attending church became moot. Suddenly, it didn't seem quite so vitally important anymore. And, as described above, it was sometimes painful to be there.

Plus -- I'll admit it -- we are lazy. : ) Weekdays we're up at 5 & into the office at 8, Saturdays we clean & run errands. Sunday is often the one day of the week we get to sleep in & laze around the house, watching the Sunday morning talk shows, reading the Sunday papers & having a big mug of tea.

It's easy to make an effort -- to will yourself to get up early on a Sunday morning, get dressed up & go to church when it's "for the kids." When it's just for yourself, it's easier to make excuses & let things slide.

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This has been fun. Anybody else have any questions for me? Post them here in the comments & I will answer them in a future post.

And (a la Mrs. Spit) would anyone like to answer some questions FROM me?