All That Matters Is- You Have A Healthy Baby

"Well," patting her on the hand "all that matters is- you have a healthy baby."

I watch her deflate. Her courage sags away from her. It was scary to tell the truth. Now she feels ashamed. She agrees out of embarrassment.

No! I want to say.

NO! That is not "all that matters".  Because a healthy mom matters too.

Sometimes we wear our scars on the outside. But sometimes the scars are hidden, and no less deep.

Sometimes our scars are in our sense of violation. When our body is not treated as our own.
Sometimes it is our sense of powerlessness. When our voice is ignored or mocked.
Sometimes it is in primal fear. When our lives hang in the balance and no one is giving any answers.
Sometimes it is in the rip of our mother's heart. When our baby is taken away and no one will tell us why.
Sometimes it is in our desperate loneliness. When we enter the gates of deep, dark, reckoning. And we do it without support. Utterly alone.

The scars we wear on the inside are just as real.
The health of a mother matters just as much.

A healthy baby isn't all that matters.

I am here. I hear you. I see you. I acknowledge your scars both seen and unseen. You matter to me mama. You matter to me.

Tell your stories mamas. Your pain is real. Your trauma is real.

My Theory Of Everything (Motherhood)

Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time, women learned about the ancient traditions of motherhood through experience. The age gap between mother and child was short: generations were compact. Extended families dwelled together, weaving mother and child, niece and cousin, until a tapestry of women all coexisted along the life span.

There were no retirement communities, no preschools. Babies bounced on old knees. Aunts were both sisters and mothers. To look from the outside, one would not easily know the dividing lines between each family. Who belonged to whom? They all belonged to each other.

By the time a girl became a woman, and then a mother, she had all the benefit of this multi-generational school of life. Since the time she was born, she had seen people pregnant, give birth, raise children, grow old and die. The lifespan was a continuum on display at every moment. Life, and its traditions, were mapped out in living color.

When her time came to give birth, she would do so in the manner of her people. She would know every part of this rite of passage- having witnessed it countless times. She would be surrounded by her fellow women, each one having experience, wisdom, and strength to share.

Her baby would be no mystery to her, having cared for her siblings, nieces, nephews and cousins her entire life. What to do when baby cries? How to feed baby? How to hold baby? How to get baby to sleep?... she would have learned by watching and doing. She would have learned at the feet of the eldest woman of her family. She would have learned by tradition.

…. Times have changed. In many ways, they have changed for the better. Modern medicine, institutions of education, women’s equality, birth control… all these things have meant dramatic change for the lifespan of a woman.

No longer do we share our daily lives with our elders, learning from their wisdom. Modern medicine has meant that the elderly live much longer- but they do so in separation. And when they die, they die without grandchildren at their feet.

We benefit from schools. Widespread literacy is a wonderful accomplishment. It has meant equality and opportunity like the world has never before seen. But it also means we do not learn at the side of our mothers. We do not take in their instruction through observation.

Women now get a choice over their life’s path. They can delay parenthood, or avoid it altogether. They can pursue any goal they choose. This also means that when a woman chooses to be a mom her mother is often older; and her friends in a different life stage.

No longer do we share our homes. We move cross-country. We work sun up to sun down. We go to organized events. We park and close our garages. Our children play behind fences.

Some changes are for the better. Some are not.

What does this mean?

When a woman chooses to become a parent, she suddenly realizes what is missing. Classes, and doctor visits, and books, and websites must suddenly make up for a lifetime of lost learning. Childbirth educators, obstetricians, doulas, lactation consultants, pediatricians… all struggle to fill in the gap. The missing tradition. The missing roots. The missing support. The missing narrative. The missing mothering.

And while there is a plethora of information out there, there is an absence of connection. It feels like a generation of women flying “solo”, flying blind.

For you see, even if you are lucky enough to replace the “tribe” from above with one of your own making (through friendships)… you will soon learn that there are many dividing lines now. Natural birth or medicated? Breast or bottle? Co-sleeping or crib? Cry-it-out or attachment-parenting? Ferber or Sears? Stroller or Ergo? Preschool or homeschool or unschool? Work-outside-the-home or stay-at-home? The list is endless.

…And we fight, and we pick labels, and we blame, and we polarize ….

… And we substitute judgment and righteous indignation for inner knowing…

Because what we’re trying to capture here, what we’re desperately seeking: is the wisdom of generations. The wisdom of a wise grandma with a wink. The wisdom of sisters, aunts, mothers and friends who will wipe your brow and whisper “You can do this, you have the strength of a million women behind you”.

So I want to say, whether you know it or not, whether you feel it or not: 

You have the strength of a million women behind you.

Find the women in your life who will tell you that. Cling to them. Forget the rest.

Photo Credit: B℮n via Compfight cc
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Photo Credit: Quique Mañas via Compfight cc
Photo Credit: Matilde B. via Compfight cc

When I Need To Kick A Little Butt

I have a good luck charm.

Okay, don't laugh at me. I realize that this might sound ridiculous. And for the record... I don't really believe it brings me good luck in the traditional sense. But this one article is my "go-to" whenever I need to remember that I'm a part of something bigger than myself. Whenever I need to remember that I have a cheering section behind me. Whenever I need a little extra feisty edge.

Are you ready? Here it is:

 

In case you can't see it (let's face it, my photography isn't particularly stunning). Its a small gold necklace with the letter "M" in fancy script on the front. The "M" stands for Marie: my grandmother's name, my great-grandmother's name, and my middle name. This necklace has been around for at least 100 years, and I get to have it for no good reason- except the name I was given at birth. How cool for me? (Sorry, Sis!)

My grandmother who wore this necklace was a feisty wartime bride who lived out most of her young motherhood in foreign countries where she didn't speak the language or know a soul. And she did it while never forgetting her lipstick or her pearls I'm certain. Now, don't go feeling sorry for her. She wouldn't appreciate it. Marie was a strong individual (who was an acquired taste) that would judge our presidents by their first lady (I like to think of it as feminist of her).

She once walked up to a stranger with a Washington DC license plate which read: "Taxation Without Representation" and said to him: "I don't think you all should have the vote. You have the nicest and cleanest streets already."

I mean really, what do you say to that?

She believed children were to be seen and not heard (that included her own grandchildren). And she also wore Estee Lauder faithfully every day of her life. When she died, there were TUBS of the stuff in her refrigerator. Why she bought in such bulk, I don't know. But that was her in an nutshell: expensive face cream bought in bulk, gold jewelry and fancy hair with a simple button-down collared shirt. She was quite a lady.

And so, when I need to remember that her blood runs through my veins, I wear this necklace. (Oh okay, and sometimes I wear it because it matches my outfit.) But I always think about her when I put it on: my namesake.

And mostly what I contemplate (for half a second while getting ready, because, really: moms don't have a lot of prettifying time) is that part of growing up is looking at your ancestry with all their flaws. Really knowing their warts and seeing them for what they are... and then loving the good of them, and honoring it in yourself.

And then I stop being so deep, and look at the clock, and realize I'm running late for the office again.

Wishing you roots that run deep,

Krysta

Adolescence... ah where to begin

Teenagers. Few words generate such a collective knowing sigh.

Whether you're a future, present or past parent of a teen- you can understand the sentiment. A time in life when freedom and limitation fight for position. A time when self-reliance and mooching don't seem to notice their own contradictions. And the hormones... yes, the hormones.

As part of my practice, I work a great deal with teens.  From this experience, I've gathered several conclusions and tips. I'd like to share a few with you. In no particular order:


The Proper Care and Feeding of Your Teen.... Part 1 (Part II is here)!

I find that what is most helpful for parents, is to recall the history of us as a people. I'm not talking about "the good ol' days". I mean human history. Since the dawn of humanity, teens have ruled. Depending on the era, thirty was considered "grandparent age" and anything beyond that qualified you for impending death. Not only were teens the parents; they were the warriors, the leaders, the hunters, the foragers. In other words, nature made sure that teens were (above all else)- hormonal, aggressive and passionate. It made sense that with the peak of fertility (and likely parenthood) teens would also be fiercely independent, strong-willed, and full of hubris. This ensured our survival as a species.

Fast-forward to our present day. Not only are teens NOT in charge, they are still living under the rule of parents. Not only are they NOT the warriors, they aren't even the drivers (for a while). Not only are they NOT the parents, they are told they ought not to be having sex at all. There is nothing to hunt and gather, there are no fires to stoke, there are no civilizations to pillage or protect. There are simply endless hours of school, malls, and (of course) sleeping. At a time when they are the most virile and agitated, they are told to do precisely the opposite: "sit still. take notes. be obedient. do what I say."

Now I for one am thankful that the average life expectancy is longer. I am thankful that adolescents no longer call the shots and I can expect to live peacefully to a ripe old age. I am also thankful that we encourage our teens to explore their own identities during their teen years. We give them a break from the stresses of adulthood for a little longer. We encourage parenthood to start only after the hubris of youth has died down- and I think that's good for society and for individual development.

But you can see how this is a recipe for discontent, right? You can see how adolescent angst would rear its ugly head. So what's a parent to do when they have a caveman teenager in gentler, calmer times?

I'm so glad you asked! I have ideas! :)

Point 1: Give your teen a purpose.
Remember, teens were built to be the movers and shakers of society. They were made to create (and destroy) civilizations. Their energy has been an asset to human history... until now. So its up to you as the parent, to help that energy finds its own use. In other words: wear them out!

For some teens this will be an after school job. For others, it's extra curricular programs. For still others, its pitching in more with the running of the household. Each situation is unique to your teen and family. But what is universally true is that they need purpose (just like we do).

It is my belief that human energy cannot be created or destroyed. It is simply re-routed. I believe a great deal of turmoil in the home is due to misplaced teen energy. If a teen has no purpose, no meaning to their existence (at a time when nature made sure they would crave it), what is s/he to do with that useless feeling? Get angry? Mopey? Agitated? Depressed? Yup, and a whole lot more. So put that energy to work somewhere meaningful, and drain the conflict out of your home!

I counsel teens, sometimes for long periods of time. You know what happens every year (like clockwork)? I lose clients around the time school lets out for the summer. It's a typical ebb and flow of my industry. Family vacations have some to do with it, and unpredictable schedules. But it also has to do with the fact that parents and teens start telling me "everything is fine", we're doing great!

Guess what happens every September? My office is flooded with phone calls of frantic teens and their parents, reporting that the remainder of the summer was a disaster. The honeymoon period of catching up on their sleep is quickly replaced by the melancholy of boredom. So with summer just starting, now is the time to preemptively help you and your teen, by finding a purpose for them and their time. It's good for you both!

... check back later... next time I'll talk about what one single thing may be to blame for teen attitude, obesity, ADHD and a host of other medical issues we see in teens today....

ETA- Part II can be read here.

Hoping your summer is purposeful,
Krysta

What Do You Need?

     As I sit comfortably on the couch, I hear my toddler over the monitor: "Mama. Mom. Mom. Mum-mum. MAA!"

     He's supposed to be sleeping, but try telling him that. The irony is, he's been asking to do just that for hours. Poor little guy is overtired, and has been slumping in his stroller the better part of the afternoon. And if his glazed expression and irritability weren't clues enough, on his own impetus he literally stood up, turned off the tv and said "Night Night" to the room before walking to his bedroom. He left us giggling as we stared at his little back disappearing down the hall.

     So I know he needs sleep. I know he is overdue. It would seem that even he knows that. And yet here he is: "Mamma... MUM UM... MOM!" while he runs around his crib squealing and kicks the walls.

     And because I'm a therapist and get to think about things like this for a living, it makes me contemplate: why don't we take what we need when it's offered? Because this experience sure has me thinking it is a innate human characteristic.

     Like the addict who won't admit there's a problem and get treatment, or the combat vet who refused the VA's services, the dieter who turns down an accountability partner, or the person who tells you (with tears in their eyes) that everything is okay.... Why do we refuse what we so badly need? Why do we insist on proudly plowing ahead when what we really want is to sit, for one moment, and accept grace?

     Is it pride? Fear? Denial? I'm not sure. But what is clear to me: it is harder to admit and accept what we need, than not to. Which surprises me when I first think of it. But the more I contemplate it, it sounds about right.

Meanwhile, the monitor is finally quiet- thank you!


Wishing you grace and kindness in your life,

Krysta