"Never give up"?

Thanks to S. at Misconceptions About Conception for highlighting this article. Although it's about cancer treatment (& overtreatment), I found a lot of parallels with infertility (not for the first time & not for the last, I'm sure).

Once again, I was reminded of Barbara Ehrenreich's book, Bright-Sided, which I recently blogged about. There's a chapter in the book about positive thinking and medicine. Ehrenreich first began thinking about this subject when she was diagnosed with breast cancer some years ago.

Sample passage from the article:

The American way is "never giving up, hoping for a miracle," said Dr. Porter Storey, a former hospice medical director who is executive vice president of the hospice group that Morrison heads.

"We use sports metaphors and war metaphors all the time. We talk about never giving up and it's not over till the fat lady sings .... glorifying people who fought to their very last breath," when instead we should be helping them accept death as an inevitable part of life, he said.

Sound familiar?

Fertility clinics are great at offering us all the latest in infertility treatments & protocols -- moving us along the conveyor belt from clomid to IUIs to IVF to donor gametes to surrogacy -- offering us different drugs or different protocols when one option doesn't work. And most of us going through treatment are only too happy to grasp at whatever straws they can offer us next to hang onto.

However, clinics (and even support groups) aren't so great when it comes to helping us know when, perhaps, the time has come to say "enough" -- & supporting us through the transition from treatment to adoption or (especially) childfree living.

Thoughts?

#400!

400 posts in less than three years -- not bad, eh? : )

Article: "Motherhood: the new oppression"

Margaret Wente, one of my favourite columnists at The Globe & Mail, had a recent piece titled "Motherhood: the new oppression." A provocative title, and I'm sure some people are outraged (haven't dared to read the comments yet). (I wonder whether any of them have pointed out that Wente herself has no children? & how dare she comment on that which she does not know, etc. etc….) I know some people find her infuriating (at one point a few years back, she had the entire province of Newfoundland pissed off at her), but I usually enjoy her humour, her calm practicality & her sometimes contrarian point of view. 

I found myself nodding as I read the motherhood column. Wente starts out by describing her own childhood, & how, by today's strict standards, her own mother was a lousy parent. (Mine too, it would seem.) In an age of "helicopter parenting," she writers, "The obligations of responsible mothering have been ratcheted way up." And she's not just talking about the constant monitoring of Junior's grades, friends, after-school activities & playdates. (Or, as I read in a recent New York Times article, cyberbullying, which has ratcheted up traditional bullying tactics to a considerable degree.) 

Wente writes:

"Once upon a time, the conveniences of modern life (processed foods, Lysol spray, disposable diapers, clothes dryers, polyester sheets) liberated women like my mother from their chains. But now, their granddaughters are clamoring to clap the shackles on again. Someone’s got to mash the organic applesauce, hang the diapers out to dry, and breastfeed the kid. No matter how enlightened the parental units, that someone will generally be Mom. 

"It seems to me that if you had deliberately devised a plot to oppress women, it couldn’t get more diabolical than this. Highly educated, progressive and enlightened mothers don’t need men to oppress them. They’re perfectly capable of oppressing themselves! 

"...it occurs to me that the high moral bar we’ve set for modern motherhood is a tremendous deterrent to motherhood itself. Any thoughtful woman would have to think twice, thrice, or three times thrice before committing to a task with such demanding standards. Can you blame them for deciding not to? If we want to raise the birth rate, perhaps we need to lower the bar."

She has a point. You know, as much as I wanted children, I have to admit -- at times, I find myself relieved that I didn't. I know parenting is hard work, but yes, the bar these days does seem to be set incredibly high. 

I grew up in a much more laissez-faire time when it came to parenting -- & I didn't/don't feel in the least bit deprived. Which means I'm more than a little taken aback by some of the stories I hear, in the media & from parents I know. 

I can remember dh's cousin's wife telling me, several years ago, when her daughters were in about Grades 7 & 5, that she thought that maybe -- MAYBE -- the time had come to allow her kids walk to school without her. But ONLY if they went with the two next-door neighbour boys -- and ONLY if they promised to go the long way around & avoid the shortcut through the park, where the local teenagers hang out. (The "long way around" is just a few short blocks -- 5, maybe 10 minutes from their house. ) 

This seemed somewhat bizarre to me. I guess I didn't realize how few kids these days actually walk to school, nevermind unescorted by an adult, even if they do live just a few blocks away. (No wonder childhood obesity rates are skyrocketing.) 

I told her, "I walked six blocks. To kindergarten. By myself, usually. Across a highway." & got a disbelieving stare. Of course, I hastened to add, this was smalltown Saskatchewan in the 1960s. (Yes, I am dating myself here, horribly.) Everybody walked to school then, unless they lived in the country & had to be bussed. Even though most of our moms didn't work then, nobody drove us anywhere, unless maybe it was pouring rain or blizzarding outside (& in that case, school was probably cancelled anyway).

I didn't tell her about how my sister, our best friend & I used to take a picnic lunch & head to the playground a few blocks away for the afternoon. By ourselves. We were all no older than 8 at the time. 

Or about how, when I was a bit older, I used to ride my bike by myself all over town. I never told my mother where I was going (I probably didn't know, I just wanted to ride around) & she never asked. She knew I'd be home for dinner. 

Needless to say, I am incredibly thankful that I grew up at the time & in the places that I did. We had so much more freedom than even the kids in those small towns today probably have. I find myself feeling kind of sorry for them sometimes. 

Maybe if I'd had kids right away after we got married, I would have escaped the recent helicopter phenomenon -- or at least had more energy to cope with it all, lol. Had Katie made it here as scheduled, she'd be 11, almost 12 years old, & we'd be right in the thick of things. And yes, I'm sure I would have found a way to cope, somehow (you do what you gotta do...) -- but honestly? I don't think I could measure up to the standards that seem to be required of today's parents. I get tired just reading about it all. 

A woman I work with is constantly on the phone with her nanny, organizing her daughter's activities. She's enrolled in gymnastics, dance & drama, plus a few other things I probably haven't thought of here. Not to mention scheduling play dates. 

The kid is not even two yet.

It takes guts to buck the trend & face down the disapproval of other parents. One of my friends has, to some extent. For many years, she asked her kids each year -- did they want to enroll in soccer? Hockey? Gymnastics? They weren't interested in doing anything after school, other than hanging out at home or with their friends. And, aside from swimming lessons (a cottage owner who's afraid of the water herself, she has insisted that her children learn to swim), she hasn't forced them to do anything they didn't really want to do. Eventually, they did find their own interests -- the daughter takes piano lessons & was accepted into a performing arts school; her son is playing ball this summer. But she admits, she used to get a lot of weird looks from other parents when they asked her what activities her kids were involved in. 

I'm not sure what the answer is. But yes, sometimes it feels good to remind myself: it's not my problem.

Australia's new PM is a childless/free woman

The Toronto Star has been running profiles of the G-20 leaders this week, in connection with the G-8/G-20 conferences now under way. Today's featured leader is Julia Gillard, the new prime minister of Australia, who (gasp!) is unmarried & childless -- by choice!! Interesting article, & worth a read if you're interested in Australian politics or women in politics generally -- but here's a few excerpts that set my childless teeth on edge:

"Progressives celebrated Gillard’s selection, and her pro-choice stance, while conservatives deplored that she is Godless, husbandless and childless. Which is nothing new. Gillard, 48, has long been attacked by the Liberal opposition (in Australia, Liberals are the main right-wing party) for not starting a family. One Liberal senator said she was unfit for leadership because she is “deliberately barren.’’ A Liberal frontbencher claimed she couldn’t “understand the way parents think’’ because she has no children. Even her sexual orientation has been questioned, despite former romantic links to a union official as well as a fellow politician, and her current four-year relationship to hairstylist Tim Mathieson."

QUOTE: ''Women are not breeding machines, you know.'' —Gillard’s 81-year-old father, John, on the slights his daughter has endured for being single and childless in public life.

Book: "Confessions of a Prairie Bitch" by Alison Arngrim

I was/am a Laura Ingalls Wilder/"Little House on the Prairie" fan. More so of the books than the TV series, I think, but let's just say I grew up on both.

I scooped up Melissa Gilbert's memoir, "Prairie Tale," when it came out last year (it's now available in paperback). I have a weakness for gossipy Hollywood biographies & Melissa's didn't disappoint -- lots of name dropping & juicy details on everything from her cocaine use to how she found her first husband having sex with a hooker on their sofa; how she got pregnant with Rob Lowe's baby, decided to have an abortion but had a miscarriage before going through with it; and the premature birth of her son Michael (named after Michael Landon).

Now Alison Arngrim, better known as every schoolgirl's nightmare Nellie Oleson, is telling her own version of the "Little House" story -- "Confessions of a Prairie Bitch: How I Survived Nellie Oleson and Learned to Love Being Hated." And it's a doozy. Not so much her revelations about "Little House," perhaps, but the stories from her personal life. Perhaps even more so than Melissa Gilbert, Alison has a lot to confess, & does so with breathtaking openness & brutal honesty -- as well as humour & wit.

I had no idea that:

• her parents were both actors (AND they were Canadian!!);
• her father was gay;
• her mother was the voice of Gumby, Casper the Ghost & Sweet Polly Purebred in the "Underdog" cartoons (all staples of my childhood viewing);
• nevertheless, they were so broke at times that her father resorted to stealing tips off the tables at a restaurant in order to buy groceries so they could eat;
• her older brother Stefan was also a child actor, & was in "Land of the Giants," another fondly remembered series from my childhood;
• he also beat & raped Alison from the time she was 6 years old.

This has the makings of a horrific story -- and it is, in some respects. But it's also a fun read that frequently had me laughing out loud. I knew that Alison had become a standup comedian in the years after "Little House," and her sense of humour -- obviously well honed as a defense mechanism -- shines throughout the book. She gives full credit to Nellie for giving her a safe outlet for acting out all the pain, anger & frustration she felt during her bizarre childhood.

There's something else that Alison has struggled with. When I picked up the book, I read on the jacket that Alison "lives in Los Angeles with her husband." It suddenly occurred to me that I had never heard anything about her having children. I wondered it that would be mentioned in the book. There is exactly one sentence, toward the very end, that explains a lot (p.266):

"As if my mother's death wasn't depressing enough, after a couple of years of trying to have a baby with Bob to no avail, the doctors had officially informed me that the chances of my producing a child through the usual means were essentially slim to none."

But then she adds:

"Yet despite all these circumstances, I was strangely happy on my fortieth. Not exactly dance-in-the-streets happy, but I knew things could be worse, and I felt grateful for all I had."

Later, on page 294, she notes:

"I always manage to find ways to be happy, even when things are awful. It's more than just a "well, the show must go on" attitude. I just always see the humour in situations, no matter how dark. My husband says I'm the only person he knows who can figure out how to have fun doing absolutely anything... I am just ridiculously, stupidly happy. I am often cheerful to the point of being annoying as hell. I don't know if this is a sign of good mental health or recovery, or if it means I've finally snapped and just gone the rest of the way to completely batshit crazy."

One of the things that Alison believes contributes to her happiness is her volunteerism & activism -- first on behalf of AIDS patients (prompted by her friendship with actor Steve Tracy, who played her TV husband Percival & later died of AIDS) and then on behalf of victims of child abuse.

I think there's a lesson in there for those of us struggling to find purpose & meaning in a childless life. I wish she had given us more of her thoughts on infertility & childless living, but I suppose she & her editors felt the book already had enough drama & personal confession in it. In a way, she communicates a lot with just that one sentence, and in the way that she has lived her life, finding her own way to happiness, despite everything she has dealt with. Even if you weren't a huge "Little House" fan, I think you will enjoy this book. I did!

One of those days....

• Day 3 of G-20 week. Woke up this morning to hear that the bomb squad was searching a house in a very nice area of Toronto (!) & that it was "G-20 related."
• When we got to work, we heard there was a scare on the subway (which turned out to be nothing).
• More police & security officers, everywhere.
• About 1:45 p.m., I was sitting at my desk when I felt an odd sort of vibration/swaying sensation. My first thought was "explosion" -- but there wasn't really any sound. People started popping out of their cubicles saying, "Did you feel that?" A few minutes later, we learned it was an earthquake. We later learned it was at least 5.0 on the Richter scale, centred north of Ottawa. It's not the first earthquake I've been in since moving to southern Ontario 25+ years ago, but it's the first time I've been in one at work. Growing up on the Prairies sure doesn't prepare you for these things...!
• I heard from a friend in Ottawa that their offices were being evacuated but no such luck here. We did get an e-mail from security, assuring us that our data centres were unaffected. As Archie Bunker used to say, "Whoop-dee-doo." :p
• Went downstairs to get a tea, passed by two pregnant women en route, had one standing in line ahead of me & one in the line beside me. It just seemed par for the course...!
• On the train ride home, I got to listen to two idiots not only going through the crossword puzzle together -- loudly-- but the guy was actually SINGING some of the clues to his girlfriend. (!!)
• I get to work from home tomorrow & Friday; however, dh still has to go into the city. Protest activity is expected to escalate over the next few days. We didn't ask for this (whose bright idea was it...??), & I can't wait for it to be over. I haven't slept well all week.

Father's Day

Since I shared an old photo of my mom, sister & I on Mother's Day, I thought I'd do the same for Father's Day. This photo was taken in the early/mid-1960s,when I was about 4. I'm on the right & my sister is on the left, holding our one & only puppy, Honey. (This is one of only two photos we have of her.) She proved too much of a handful (the dog -- not my sister -- although she has proved to be a handful in her own right over the years, lol) & we took her to my grandparents' farm on our next visit there -- where she was run over by a car some months later. :(

It was my first encounter with death. I remember my mother holding me as I cried & cried. She told me that Honey was in heaven. I asked if there would be lots of bones for Honey to eat there, & dogs for her to play with, and she assured me yes. That made me feel better.

*** *** ***

My dad was typical of many dads of my generation, I think. He worked hard, long hours, to provide for our family. (He still works -- albeit part-time now -- even though he's almost 71. I don't think he'd know what to do with himself otherwise.) But he was a fun dad too -- wrestling on the living room floor with me & my sister, building tents with us out of TV trays, blankets & sofa cushions, making popcorn for us on Sunday nights to eat while we watched Ed Sullivan, taking us to the general store in our PJs to buy us Revels (chocolate-covered ice cream bars). My mother was the disciplinarian, & her rants & threats were something we were used to. My dad seldom got angry with us -- but when he did, man, was that effective.

My dad had an emotional side that I only became aware of as I grew up. I had never witnessed him crying until his own mother passed away, when I was 14. It was (& still is) the worst thing in the world for me to witness. The day after my wedding, my new husband & I were preparing to leave my parents' house to return to the city, & from there head off on our honeymoon, & then to our new life in Toronto. Saying goodbye to my parents, my dad broke down in tears. It startled me. It hadn't really hit me until that moment that I was really leaving home for good.

When our daughter -- his first and only grandchild -- was stillborn, he couldn't even speak to me on the phone. My mother flew to be with us & was there when I delivered our Katie, & helped us plan the funeral. Dad arrived a few days later, as they had originally planned for their holidays. In the interim, he played in a golf tournament that he takes part in every year. Initially, I was a little peeved -- was a golf tournament more important than his granddaughter?? On second thought, though, I realized maybe that was the best thing for him to be doing at that point.

One of the hardest things about Katie's funeral was seeing my dad standing by her niche at the cemetery, his shoulders heaving, wiping his eyes.

We're not a family that says it out loud a lot. We tend to submerge our true feelings behind layers of sarcasm & wisecracks.

But I love you, Daddy. You're the best. : )

*** *** ***

The Toronto Star profiled four fathers-to-be in today's paper, talking about what kind of fathers they want to be, their hopes & plans for the future (trips already in the works to see grandparents and go to Hawaii in December, plans to celebrate both Jewish & Christian holidays, etc.). I guess it's the dead baby mama in me (still), but I couldn't help but wonder at the supreme confidence of both the fathers and the paper in running such a story.

I wish them all well and I hope all their plans come to fruition.

*** *** ***

I left today's agenda entirely up to dh. We saw his dad last night, & visited our Katie at the cemetery (he thought it would be too sad to go there today). We thought about going to see "Toy Story 3," but kiddie movie on Father's Day (not to mention opening weekend) sounded like a recipe for disaster, so we've decided to wait a few weeks for that. We went out briefly to our favourite megabookstore but have otherwise spent the day lazing around the house. (I've even let him have the computer for awhile, lol.)

I think we both need it. We're gearing up for what may be a difficult & stressful week, (absolutely no) thanks to the G-20 meeting a few blocks away from where we work. Potential havoc may be played with our commute, particularly as the week wears on. We've been advised to carry food & water with us -- but not to drink TOO much, since most of the washrooms on board the trains may be locked for security reasons. Wonderful. :p

Wish us luck...!!