One sunny day in 1997, I was taking a walk with my friend. She told me that she heard Ellen Degeneres was going to come out of the closet, and that she was going to make the main character on her show a lesbian. I was 24, and had been out for 3 years already. I pretty much knew Ellen was a lesbian (duh!) but I was surprised by the latest rumors about her TV show. I told my friend that I doubted that would happen. In fact, I told her that I didn't think a show about a lesbian starring an out lesbian would happen "in my lifetime." Of course, I was incredibly incredibly wrong. My laughable myopic statement was uttered just over a decade ago, but it seems like a lifetime. Out t.v and movie characters and public figures are commonplace. States legalized gay marriage. And, yes, our President-Elect explicitly included gay folk in his historic acceptance speech.
And yet.
So many of us had our celebration on Tuesday take a sadder tone when we learned the news of Prop 8. Lovely and I watched the returns, the speeches, the incredibly moving images of people dancing in Chicago, Kenya, Spellman College, Ebenezer Baptist church. We cheered, cried, and drank champagne. When Obama talked about what changes his daughters might see in America if they lived to be 106, I thought of my own daughter. She was nestled in Lovely's lap, wearing an Obama onesie, oblivious to the fact that her country had been changed forever. She slept through my happiest moment as an American. Then Lovely left the room and I checked the Prop 8 news. Not good. Terrible. I decided not to tell Lovely, who worked her ass off fighting an anti-gay amendment in our Home State in 2004, only to be crushed. I wanted her to continue to savor this night of hope and feeling included in something wonderful. She walked up to me and I tried to close the computer browser. But she looked at me and said "I just looked up the same thing in the other room."
I tried to focus on Obama and what it meant. I still celebrated all day Wednesday and felt jubilant, especially when seeing pictures of the First Family. I struggled with the idea that I might be missing the bigger picture of the election since it was "my' group that was screwed. But you can't totally shake it when a majority of people vote to take away your rights, the rights of people you love, and the rights of a community you call your own. I hurt for my friends in California. I thought of Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon and what the people in California were saying about their beautiful inspiring marriage. It is hard to feel excited about inclusion when you are excluded. It is difficult to feel hope when yours dashed in state after state. It is nearly impossible to feel giddy about progress when you see a major step back.
So many people have remarked that Obama's win was something they would never see in their lifetime. How moving it is to hear the stories of people who toiled in the civil rights movement talk about what this election means to them. They talked about how impossible and far off this moment once seemed. They mentioned scars, pain, and losses.
As I despair about Prop 8 and what it means to my family, I'm going to try to keep these heroes in mind. To keep my eyes on the prize. To remember my conversation about Ellen and how change can come sooner than we think. To think about what beautiful and amazing changes my daughter will see if she lives to be 106. To hope it doesn't take that long. To work for it, even when victory seems impossible and far off.
Deep in my heart, I do believe, we will overcome. Someday.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Salad in My Bra, Crying over Spilt Milk and Other Nursing Disasters
Believe me when I tell you that if I was more tech savvy or had more time I would've somehow made the theme from Jaws play when you read this post.
My lil Sunshine is 5 weeks old and doing very well. We've been doing a lot of learning, she and I.
Nursing has been the hardest thing for us to master. I am baffled as to why something that seems perfectly designed by nature has been so tricky for the two of us.
The rough patch started on day one, when the nurse threatened to take my baby to NICU if I didn't feed her formula or if some blood sugar number didn't go from 48 to "above 50." So already I was scared something was wrong with me, my milk, the baby. I quickly realized that I couldn't do many of the nursing positions people recommended because for several days I could not sit up or re-position my body due to the tailbone injury I sustained in labor. (I am looking forward to telling sunshine one day how I busted my ass birthing her) I kept nursing and it hurt. Every nursing guide in the world will tell you that if breastfeeding hurts, you are doing it wrong. Too which I wanted to yell "No freakin kidding!" I could not get it right. My nipples were raw and my heart hurt too from seeing my little baby at my breasts, wailing in frustration.
One breast got engorged and it really hurt. Sunshine couldn't latch on that side at all. The lactation consultant told me to put cabbage on it if that happened so I did. So I walked around for a couple of days with cabbage on my breast. My sister asked if I left like biblical Eve, but I told her I felt like goblaki. (My mother is Polish and prefers we use this term instead of "stuffed cabbage). I also had the fun of having other people push on my breast so that we could leak milk into a bottle. Luckily my body modesty was destroyed giving birth to Sunshine. If we pushed for an hour or so, we could get an ounce of milk to feed to her. When Lovely Partner accidentally kicked over some of the expressed breast milk, I cried. All that effort, dribbling on the floor. We tried to use the mechanical breast pump, but it came with its own set of problems and haunted me with a strange rhythmic noise that I swear sounded like "John McCain Sarah Palin John McCain Sarah Palin."
The worst part was the look on Sunshine's face as she was placed on me to be nursed. Her face would be beet red. Her mouth would be open as if screaming. Her little head would sort of bang against me and I imagined her thinking "Stop this now!" or "I hate you!" When we couldn't get any milk and I was scared I was starving her, we tried a bit of formula--in a bottle. That didn't help. (I later read that women thinking they are starving their babies is a main reason they quit breastfeeding). Sunshine still had trouble latching and then I did my Internet research and saw how a bottle can cause "nipple confusion." I felt like a complete idiot for not researching breastfeeding before, you know, having a baby. In extremely bad planning, I was collecting articles on making creative meals for toddlers instead. Finally I found some articles on curing nipple confusion. I bought special ice packs for breasts with holes where the nipples are. I realized my teeth were hurting from gritting them when she latched on. While she napped I dreaded the next time she would need to eat.
But, everyone kept telling me that it usually gets easier to nurse, so I kept trying. It did get easier, little by little. I put away the cabbage and started using my special boob ice packs less and less. My sunshine is a smart cookie and she started figuring out some things about nursing. I must've learned something too, though I don't remember how or when. The coolest part (besides knowing that I am successfully feeding my baby) is when we do get it right. Sometimes, she even grabs my finger with her little hand and grips it tight when she is nursing. Even though I know I am projecting, I like to tell myself this is her way of encouraging me and saying "Come on Mom, we can do this!"
I think that I like to reflect on the whole experience of learning to breastfeed because it helps me remember that there is a learning curve to a lot of this mothering stuff. Even if it doesn't come natural to me, I can still try to improve.
My lil Sunshine is 5 weeks old and doing very well. We've been doing a lot of learning, she and I.
Nursing has been the hardest thing for us to master. I am baffled as to why something that seems perfectly designed by nature has been so tricky for the two of us.
The rough patch started on day one, when the nurse threatened to take my baby to NICU if I didn't feed her formula or if some blood sugar number didn't go from 48 to "above 50." So already I was scared something was wrong with me, my milk, the baby. I quickly realized that I couldn't do many of the nursing positions people recommended because for several days I could not sit up or re-position my body due to the tailbone injury I sustained in labor. (I am looking forward to telling sunshine one day how I busted my ass birthing her) I kept nursing and it hurt. Every nursing guide in the world will tell you that if breastfeeding hurts, you are doing it wrong. Too which I wanted to yell "No freakin kidding!" I could not get it right. My nipples were raw and my heart hurt too from seeing my little baby at my breasts, wailing in frustration.
One breast got engorged and it really hurt. Sunshine couldn't latch on that side at all. The lactation consultant told me to put cabbage on it if that happened so I did. So I walked around for a couple of days with cabbage on my breast. My sister asked if I left like biblical Eve, but I told her I felt like goblaki. (My mother is Polish and prefers we use this term instead of "stuffed cabbage). I also had the fun of having other people push on my breast so that we could leak milk into a bottle. Luckily my body modesty was destroyed giving birth to Sunshine. If we pushed for an hour or so, we could get an ounce of milk to feed to her. When Lovely Partner accidentally kicked over some of the expressed breast milk, I cried. All that effort, dribbling on the floor. We tried to use the mechanical breast pump, but it came with its own set of problems and haunted me with a strange rhythmic noise that I swear sounded like "John McCain Sarah Palin John McCain Sarah Palin."
The worst part was the look on Sunshine's face as she was placed on me to be nursed. Her face would be beet red. Her mouth would be open as if screaming. Her little head would sort of bang against me and I imagined her thinking "Stop this now!" or "I hate you!" When we couldn't get any milk and I was scared I was starving her, we tried a bit of formula--in a bottle. That didn't help. (I later read that women thinking they are starving their babies is a main reason they quit breastfeeding). Sunshine still had trouble latching and then I did my Internet research and saw how a bottle can cause "nipple confusion." I felt like a complete idiot for not researching breastfeeding before, you know, having a baby. In extremely bad planning, I was collecting articles on making creative meals for toddlers instead. Finally I found some articles on curing nipple confusion. I bought special ice packs for breasts with holes where the nipples are. I realized my teeth were hurting from gritting them when she latched on. While she napped I dreaded the next time she would need to eat.
But, everyone kept telling me that it usually gets easier to nurse, so I kept trying. It did get easier, little by little. I put away the cabbage and started using my special boob ice packs less and less. My sunshine is a smart cookie and she started figuring out some things about nursing. I must've learned something too, though I don't remember how or when. The coolest part (besides knowing that I am successfully feeding my baby) is when we do get it right. Sometimes, she even grabs my finger with her little hand and grips it tight when she is nursing. Even though I know I am projecting, I like to tell myself this is her way of encouraging me and saying "Come on Mom, we can do this!"
I think that I like to reflect on the whole experience of learning to breastfeed because it helps me remember that there is a learning curve to a lot of this mothering stuff. Even if it doesn't come natural to me, I can still try to improve.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Birth Story (Long)
Even though I was thinking about her birth every second of every day, Sunshine's arrival still managed to surprise me. On Friday the 27th (one day past due date), I cleaned up my office at work. I told everyone "maybe I will see you Monday." And that night, I started to feel.....weird. I told Lovely "I feel like I am...hatching something."
On September 28th, I woke up at 530 and went to the bathroom, as I did for the whole pregnancy. I laid back down and within minutes I felt my water break. This was completely unambigious. It was a flood. I gently woke Lovely and said "my water broke" She said "Are you sure?'' and I laughed. I stood up and water just kept flowing. It seemed hillarious, somehow. We had been reassuring people for months "Normally labor doesn't start with a dramatic water breaking like in the movies" I felt fine. We called my family (who live 5 hours away) and Happy Doula, who told us to rest and eat. We wanted to labor at home as long as possible, and I thought it was great timing to go into labor on Saturday morning. We started organizing our things and I read political blogs, calmly. Once Lovely took the dog to day care and to pick up baked goods for the nurses, I started to feel contractions. It was most similar to stomachaches. I wrote down the times of contractions and thought "this isn't too bad." I assumed I would have a really long labor since it was my first birth and my Mom had a 50 hour labor.
These are the times I recorded for contractions, which don't even make sense:6:33, 650? (erased), 7;06, 7;38 (minor), 7:46, 7:50, 8;03, 8:14, 838, 8:36" Everything started to blur together and I didn't know when they were starting and ending.
Lovely had returned and I told her to call Happy Doula, since contractions were increasing and I was feeling in pain. I started to do all the things they said women often do in labor, like pound tables, pace around the room, open and shut cupboards. Happy Doula arrived and watched me carefully. I couldn't tell where contractions were starting and ending. I started to feel like I would vomit. I asked the doula "How was your dance competition?" and when she started to tell me I said something overly formal like "I beg your pardon, please excuse me" and I went into the bathroom. Doula gave me a towel soaked in peppermint oil which I clutched for dear life. I have no idea why this helped me so much, but peppermint is now the smell of birth for me. We drove to the hospital, and I wasn't crying but it was close. It felt like the drive took forever.
Lovely parked the car and Happy Doula and I took the long walk to Ob triage. The nurse looked at me and I said "Hello, I am in labor" They got me on a bed immediately but my body was spazzing out. I was clutching the peppermint towel like it was my lifeline. They asked if I wanted an epidural and I said yes. (I was open-minded about epidurals in birth plan, and everything was happening so fast, I barely thought about it) Lovely arrived and the doctor said I was at 6cm. I threw up. (I can't describe labor pain, except to say it takes over your entire body, as if an energy force was squeezing you down to get the last bit of toothpaste out of you) They wheeled me up to Labor and Delivery and I remember thinking that the breeze of moving fast felt so nice. But then I was crying, or yelling. The pain kept intensifying. At one point I looked at Lovely and said "Please help me" and she almost cried. Immediately after the epidural, the doctor said I was "complete, 10 cm" and everyone in the room got ready, as if a baby would fall out any second. I couldn't believe my contractions had started only a few hours ago and already I was at 10cm!
I thought at this point the baby would come right away, even before noon! Everything was happening so fast. And so I pushed my hardest, thinking that each push would be the one that worked. My sister came in the room and I laughed. It seemed so surreal that she would walk in while I was pushing a baby out. I was feeling so much better after the epidural though-- I felt like myself again. Then my Mom arrived and I called her in. This meant the doula had to leave since we reached our max of support people. Having my Mom there wasn't in the plan, but when she walked in I smiled and said "Hi Mumma" and I was glad she was there. It suddenly seemed appropriate for me. My team of nurses and doctors kept encouraging me to push. My Mom said I almost broke her hand when I was pushing. Lovely said that it was amazing. One of the nurses kept yelling "goooooooo mommmmmmy!" Everyone kept saying, "You are doing great!" which I found funny, because I didn't feel like I was doing anything---my body had taken over me completely. Lovely told me that she could see the baby's head, and that our baby had brown hair. My biggest fear in labor what was that I would be scared for my baby, but I actually wasn't. They kept giving me the numbers of her heartbeat, and I just felt like she was doing okay, and that things were going they way they were supposed to.
Alas, after two hours of hearing how "close" the baby was and being invited to feel her head, I started to get tired. I noticed the doctor's conferring with one another quietly. One doctor mentioned an epistiotomy and Lovely and I were like "Not crazy about that idea." I kept pushing. Doctors kept conferring. Lovely went over and listened to the doctor's explanation of why the epi was a good idea. The doctor said to me "This is not about the baby's health, the baby is fine, it is you that I am concerned with" (This is the opposite of what I expected doctors to say) Apparently, the doctor felt that given my,um, size and the baby's size and position, the perenium/rectum was going to tear completely soon. I don't know if this is BS, or something they always say. They did seem genuinely concerned. They didn't seem to be trying to scare me about the baby, which I appreciated. And finally, I said "Okay, take her out" So that was my 8 hour labor, which ended at 1:46 p.m.
Within a minute, the cuts were made, and a baby was on my chest. I wish I could see all of this better with my mind's eye, but I think I was in shock. Lovely said that the baby looked peaceful coming out. The doctors took her (not following birth plan, aaargh!) and started doing the tests on her under the warmer. I yelled out questions "What does she look like?" "What is the agpar?" "Tell me about my baby!" "Does she look like me?" The nurse yelled out "10 lbs, 9 oz" and everyone in the room gasped! I could see Lovely crying happily over the baby. I became irritated with the doctor stitching me up and asked for the baby. Everything felt surreal and distant I'm sad that I was practically disassociated during this time period, I started casually talking to Happy Doula about her kids. I thought about how medicalized the birth was, and I was ambivalent and somewhat embarrassed about how it all played out. I did feel badly that I didn't have the extreme high and rush of maternal feelings that some women talk about after labor. There was some highs, but these moments waiting for her were a low.
Finally, after about 25 long minutes they brought Sunshine to me. I said "Oh my baby, I missed you so much." Everybody probably thought I meant the I missed her the 25 minutes she was being poked and prodded. I meant that I missed her all the years I spent waiting for her. And I swear to fucking god she looked right at me like she knew me and was surprised to see me there.
On September 28th, I woke up at 530 and went to the bathroom, as I did for the whole pregnancy. I laid back down and within minutes I felt my water break. This was completely unambigious. It was a flood. I gently woke Lovely and said "my water broke" She said "Are you sure?'' and I laughed. I stood up and water just kept flowing. It seemed hillarious, somehow. We had been reassuring people for months "Normally labor doesn't start with a dramatic water breaking like in the movies" I felt fine. We called my family (who live 5 hours away) and Happy Doula, who told us to rest and eat. We wanted to labor at home as long as possible, and I thought it was great timing to go into labor on Saturday morning. We started organizing our things and I read political blogs, calmly. Once Lovely took the dog to day care and to pick up baked goods for the nurses, I started to feel contractions. It was most similar to stomachaches. I wrote down the times of contractions and thought "this isn't too bad." I assumed I would have a really long labor since it was my first birth and my Mom had a 50 hour labor.
These are the times I recorded for contractions, which don't even make sense:6:33, 650? (erased), 7;06, 7;38 (minor), 7:46, 7:50, 8;03, 8:14, 838, 8:36" Everything started to blur together and I didn't know when they were starting and ending.
Lovely had returned and I told her to call Happy Doula, since contractions were increasing and I was feeling in pain. I started to do all the things they said women often do in labor, like pound tables, pace around the room, open and shut cupboards. Happy Doula arrived and watched me carefully. I couldn't tell where contractions were starting and ending. I started to feel like I would vomit. I asked the doula "How was your dance competition?" and when she started to tell me I said something overly formal like "I beg your pardon, please excuse me" and I went into the bathroom. Doula gave me a towel soaked in peppermint oil which I clutched for dear life. I have no idea why this helped me so much, but peppermint is now the smell of birth for me. We drove to the hospital, and I wasn't crying but it was close. It felt like the drive took forever.
Lovely parked the car and Happy Doula and I took the long walk to Ob triage. The nurse looked at me and I said "Hello, I am in labor" They got me on a bed immediately but my body was spazzing out. I was clutching the peppermint towel like it was my lifeline. They asked if I wanted an epidural and I said yes. (I was open-minded about epidurals in birth plan, and everything was happening so fast, I barely thought about it) Lovely arrived and the doctor said I was at 6cm. I threw up. (I can't describe labor pain, except to say it takes over your entire body, as if an energy force was squeezing you down to get the last bit of toothpaste out of you) They wheeled me up to Labor and Delivery and I remember thinking that the breeze of moving fast felt so nice. But then I was crying, or yelling. The pain kept intensifying. At one point I looked at Lovely and said "Please help me" and she almost cried. Immediately after the epidural, the doctor said I was "complete, 10 cm" and everyone in the room got ready, as if a baby would fall out any second. I couldn't believe my contractions had started only a few hours ago and already I was at 10cm!
I thought at this point the baby would come right away, even before noon! Everything was happening so fast. And so I pushed my hardest, thinking that each push would be the one that worked. My sister came in the room and I laughed. It seemed so surreal that she would walk in while I was pushing a baby out. I was feeling so much better after the epidural though-- I felt like myself again. Then my Mom arrived and I called her in. This meant the doula had to leave since we reached our max of support people. Having my Mom there wasn't in the plan, but when she walked in I smiled and said "Hi Mumma" and I was glad she was there. It suddenly seemed appropriate for me. My team of nurses and doctors kept encouraging me to push. My Mom said I almost broke her hand when I was pushing. Lovely said that it was amazing. One of the nurses kept yelling "goooooooo mommmmmmy!" Everyone kept saying, "You are doing great!" which I found funny, because I didn't feel like I was doing anything---my body had taken over me completely. Lovely told me that she could see the baby's head, and that our baby had brown hair. My biggest fear in labor what was that I would be scared for my baby, but I actually wasn't. They kept giving me the numbers of her heartbeat, and I just felt like she was doing okay, and that things were going they way they were supposed to.
Alas, after two hours of hearing how "close" the baby was and being invited to feel her head, I started to get tired. I noticed the doctor's conferring with one another quietly. One doctor mentioned an epistiotomy and Lovely and I were like "Not crazy about that idea." I kept pushing. Doctors kept conferring. Lovely went over and listened to the doctor's explanation of why the epi was a good idea. The doctor said to me "This is not about the baby's health, the baby is fine, it is you that I am concerned with" (This is the opposite of what I expected doctors to say) Apparently, the doctor felt that given my,um, size and the baby's size and position, the perenium/rectum was going to tear completely soon. I don't know if this is BS, or something they always say. They did seem genuinely concerned. They didn't seem to be trying to scare me about the baby, which I appreciated. And finally, I said "Okay, take her out" So that was my 8 hour labor, which ended at 1:46 p.m.
Within a minute, the cuts were made, and a baby was on my chest. I wish I could see all of this better with my mind's eye, but I think I was in shock. Lovely said that the baby looked peaceful coming out. The doctors took her (not following birth plan, aaargh!) and started doing the tests on her under the warmer. I yelled out questions "What does she look like?" "What is the agpar?" "Tell me about my baby!" "Does she look like me?" The nurse yelled out "10 lbs, 9 oz" and everyone in the room gasped! I could see Lovely crying happily over the baby. I became irritated with the doctor stitching me up and asked for the baby. Everything felt surreal and distant I'm sad that I was practically disassociated during this time period, I started casually talking to Happy Doula about her kids. I thought about how medicalized the birth was, and I was ambivalent and somewhat embarrassed about how it all played out. I did feel badly that I didn't have the extreme high and rush of maternal feelings that some women talk about after labor. There was some highs, but these moments waiting for her were a low.
Finally, after about 25 long minutes they brought Sunshine to me. I said "Oh my baby, I missed you so much." Everybody probably thought I meant the I missed her the 25 minutes she was being poked and prodded. I meant that I missed her all the years I spent waiting for her. And I swear to fucking god she looked right at me like she knew me and was surprised to see me there.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Let the Sunshine In
I'm happy to report that our healthy 10 lbs 9 oz, 22 inches long (?!?!?) baby girl was born on Saturday September 27th. She is beautiful (I'm biased) and doing wonderfully. (I myself will need a ....recovery period, although no C-Section.) Birth story soon as I am able!
Thanks everyone for your well wishes!
If you like name and picture info, email me at Sodapop1939ATYa.ho.ho.com.
She is our Sunshine!
Thanks everyone for your well wishes!
If you like name and picture info, email me at Sodapop1939ATYa.ho.ho.com.
She is our Sunshine!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Let's get this Show on the road
So now I fall into the category of "people who start dilating but take a while to go into labor." I'm still pregnant. My due date is on Thursday. I had high hopes of watching Friday's Presidential Debates with her on my blue couch at home. Not sure that is gonna happen!
I had some bloody show on Friday, which made labor seem so imminent. We even coincidently rented "Best in Show" that night which seemed like it could be a funny part of the labor story: Best in Bloody Show. But now its Tuesday night and I am not having even Braxton Hicks contractions.
It is a bizarre feeling to not know what day your life will change. Will it be tomorrow? Will it be in two weeks? Before or after we finish this loaf of bread? In September or October? Each night I go to sleep wondering if I will go into labor that night.
Lovely Partner took me for a walk for spicy food tonight. She wants to get this show on the road too!
I had some bloody show on Friday, which made labor seem so imminent. We even coincidently rented "Best in Show" that night which seemed like it could be a funny part of the labor story: Best in Bloody Show. But now its Tuesday night and I am not having even Braxton Hicks contractions.
It is a bizarre feeling to not know what day your life will change. Will it be tomorrow? Will it be in two weeks? Before or after we finish this loaf of bread? In September or October? Each night I go to sleep wondering if I will go into labor that night.
Lovely Partner took me for a walk for spicy food tonight. She wants to get this show on the road too!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Drop On By
Normally my blog has a lot of angst and worry, but today I felt...happy. I guess this is kind of a warning to readers who might not be in the mood.
I'm nuts for musicals and today the song going through my head (and out my throat if no ones around) is "Something's Coming," which Tony sings at the begining of West Side Story. Most appropriate is the lines "There is something due any day now" and "Come on, deliver, to meeeee." Granted, WSS doesn't have the happiest of endings but that song is full of anticipation and optimism and it makes me cheerful to hear it.
What had me singing this song today was my doctor's appointment (38 weeks) when I found out the baby has dropped and I am dilated. Only 1.5cm, but still. A girl has got to start somewhere. A baby, getting ready to be born.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu7sRdRrm_w
I'm nuts for musicals and today the song going through my head (and out my throat if no ones around) is "Something's Coming," which Tony sings at the begining of West Side Story. Most appropriate is the lines "There is something due any day now" and "Come on, deliver, to meeeee." Granted, WSS doesn't have the happiest of endings but that song is full of anticipation and optimism and it makes me cheerful to hear it.
What had me singing this song today was my doctor's appointment (38 weeks) when I found out the baby has dropped and I am dilated. Only 1.5cm, but still. A girl has got to start somewhere. A baby, getting ready to be born.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu7sRdRrm_w
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Conversation That Wasn't
The other day, my cousin told me that she told her 6 year old that my partner and I were married. Technically, we are not married and haven't had any ceremonies, but I understand she was trying to validate our relationship by calling it that. Her 6 year old was aghast and said "But then the baby will have two Moms?!" To which she replied, "Isn't that great?!" My cousin was trying to have a teachable moment with her kid, which I appreciated. (Not that I love hearing the "people, including children, will think you are a freak" stories as a general rule).
Later, I relayed the story to my Mom, sister, and sister-in law. I told it in a humorous lighthearted way. I wasn't that upset by a 6 year old's confusion on the issue.
To my shock, my Mom said "Why would she tell such a young kid that?" I felt like I was kicked in the stomach. My Mom had some rough years when I came out but in general is practically at PFLAG Mom status at this point. She also has expressed nothing but excitement and support about upcoming kid.
All I could muster as a response was "Why wouldn't she tell him, MY baby is going to know." Then I dropped it. We were at a family party after all, and my family is not the type to argue in public. There was an uncomfortable silence and my SIL cocked an eyebrow like she was shocked my Mom woud say that. (Sweetly, she spend the whole next day saying validating comments about me and partner's relationship)
But, then I went to my sister's house and cried and cried. I couldn't believe my Mom was suggesting my relationship with my partner should be hidden. The fact that it was implied it should be hidden from a small child made it even worse. Talk about feeling freakish.
My sister tried to comfort me and told me how mad she was at what my Mom said. And I kept crying.
I thought about the baby and how I didn't want her to deal with the idea that she should be ashamed of her family. I got a sense of how upsetting subtle comments could be to me, and her. Of course, I knew the baby would experience homophobia in her life, but I didn't think about how it could come from loving well-meaning family members as well.
My Mom called that night and asked my sister how things were going. I am pretty sure that she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Since then, she also has made some extra LGBT family friendly gestures like giving us a rainbow themed children's book. My Mom and I haven't talked about the conversation that wasn't yet, which I know doesn't say much about my adult communication skills. I'm still planning too.
I am honestly surprised by how upset I was. But the thing that struck me the most was how oddly maternal I felt about the baby. It is the closest I have come to experiencing the protective Mother Lion"Don't you DARE hurt my child" sensibility I have heard about. I know it sounds bizarre, but pregnancy has been so surreal/unreal that I am strangely comforted to know that I might, someday, think and feel like I would want a parent to think and feel.
Later, I relayed the story to my Mom, sister, and sister-in law. I told it in a humorous lighthearted way. I wasn't that upset by a 6 year old's confusion on the issue.
To my shock, my Mom said "Why would she tell such a young kid that?" I felt like I was kicked in the stomach. My Mom had some rough years when I came out but in general is practically at PFLAG Mom status at this point. She also has expressed nothing but excitement and support about upcoming kid.
All I could muster as a response was "Why wouldn't she tell him, MY baby is going to know." Then I dropped it. We were at a family party after all, and my family is not the type to argue in public. There was an uncomfortable silence and my SIL cocked an eyebrow like she was shocked my Mom woud say that. (Sweetly, she spend the whole next day saying validating comments about me and partner's relationship)
But, then I went to my sister's house and cried and cried. I couldn't believe my Mom was suggesting my relationship with my partner should be hidden. The fact that it was implied it should be hidden from a small child made it even worse. Talk about feeling freakish.
My sister tried to comfort me and told me how mad she was at what my Mom said. And I kept crying.
I thought about the baby and how I didn't want her to deal with the idea that she should be ashamed of her family. I got a sense of how upsetting subtle comments could be to me, and her. Of course, I knew the baby would experience homophobia in her life, but I didn't think about how it could come from loving well-meaning family members as well.
My Mom called that night and asked my sister how things were going. I am pretty sure that she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Since then, she also has made some extra LGBT family friendly gestures like giving us a rainbow themed children's book. My Mom and I haven't talked about the conversation that wasn't yet, which I know doesn't say much about my adult communication skills. I'm still planning too.
I am honestly surprised by how upset I was. But the thing that struck me the most was how oddly maternal I felt about the baby. It is the closest I have come to experiencing the protective Mother Lion"Don't you DARE hurt my child" sensibility I have heard about. I know it sounds bizarre, but pregnancy has been so surreal/unreal that I am strangely comforted to know that I might, someday, think and feel like I would want a parent to think and feel.
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