Pansy: June 2006 Archives

In the comments box below, in my post Time To Tell A Story (I'm Still Judgemental), a woman named "Jane" tells a story that many years ago, she too was an unmarried pregnant 16-year old:

If you were a woman of my generation and became pregnant as a teen (I, too, was 16), your baby was taken away without you ever seeing or holding him or her. You had no "choice" to "give" your baby up for adoption. Your baby was taken, you were told to shut up and never say a word about it and act like it never happened, and you were treated like a pariah by your family forever. This was standard operating procedure for Catholic homes for "unwed mothers".

And that's why I'm pro-choice.

Because I know what it is not to have a choice.

A debate between she and I followed because of my lack of understanding what being pro-choice has to do with the circumstances of the adoption. During that debate, Jane states:

The reason you say what you say about knowing your child is still alive and with a family and how it's one big Hallmark Channel three-hanky Movie of the Week is because you had a choice. I wonder how you'd feel if you'd never been allowed to lay eyes on your child or hold your child? You would see that family as the enemy. As thieves who stole your child and destroyed you in order to snatch undeserved happiness for themselves.

Her words made me unearth some thoughts about my experience, and made me think my story was somewhat incomplete.
This is all very strange to me, because like I mentioned in one of the comments I haven't really talked about this in 15 years, and I don't know what is compelling me to talk about it now. Like I said, I have not kept it a deep dark secret or anything. But I certainly don't advertise it and I try hard not to think about it. Part of me thinks that I have tried to be this good, Catholic mother, and good, Catholic mothers do not have stories about getting pregnant out-of-wedlock at 15. The other part is much of these events are too painful to dwell on, and dwelling does nothing to help me get by day to day.
Lately, another part of is starting to understand that this series of events really affected why I feel and do so many of things I do today.

Fact is, in my retelling of the story, I did not mean to gloss over adopting out a child as easy because it was right and we all were so happy in the end. I was not happy in the end, but I think I made the best choice for my son, and that keeps me refelcting on it in a positive light rather than a negative one.

After I delivered my son, I got to spend three days with him at the hospital. Up until that point of my short life, they were some of the happiest I ever felt. Every friend I had came to visit me and see the baby. I had never been uncomfortable around babies because at the time my brothers were 5, 3 and 1. Baby care was second nature to me. I had a hard time listening to mothers education sessions between nurses and new Moms in other rooms as they taught the ladies how to change and burp babies. I remember wondering if the lady in the next room who was having a hard time of grasping the concept of changing a diaper without sticking the tapes to the baby knew what a blessing it was to go to a hospital, have a baby and bring that baby home. For her, the hospital stay was the start of her new life with her child and for me it was the end. I would have given anything to be in her position.

After I handed my baby over to his foster mother and went home, I never knew the an emptiness like I felt then. I was in a painful place that nothing, or anyone could make better. This was a true first for me. Things that were big deals to me before, like going out to breakfast were nothing.

I could have taken 6 weeks off of school, but I think I opted to go back 2 or 3 weeks later to keep busy. Life was spacey and weird. Everyone at school were still teenage high school students, and so was I, but I wasn't. People were mulling around about proms, games, and "OH-MY-GOSH did you hear about such and such?" I could no longer relate. I think this started a trend of cynacism that has stuck with me.

I tried to get back into the groove, and I did to some extent, but from then on, I felt like I was in a separate reality or something. I couldn't relate to anyone around me, and they could not relate to me.
I wanted to talk to people desperately about what happened, but no one wanted to talk to me about it. I remember I was working at the supermarket and a woman on my line, her husband recently died and she was telling me about her loss and her personal feelings, and I was a complete stranger. I thought she felt the same I did when I gave my son up, the need for someone to listen to you for whatever reason people need that. Well, that was how I felt at first, but no one wanted to talk about it. Everyone said "well that is done, just get on with your life" or "people don't talk about that kind of thing", so I swallowed it all real hard (and here we at least 15 years later).

Four villains! From the trailer, looks like
1. Venom
2.Green Goblin
3. Sandman
4. ???

Could it Lizard Man? They showed him in the last movie (the one-armed professor, "smart but lazy"). Or does John Jamieson hire the Scorpion to get back at Peter Parker?
I'm on pins and needles!

HT: The World IMHO via The Curt Jester

As you can see from the article, the war on contraception is more a war for common sense:

The New York Times joined the fray with a May 7 article titled "The War on Contraception.” Feminists point to several elements of the so-called war:

# The Food and Drug Administration has refused to approve the open sale of the morning-after pill in pharmacies.

# The administration has promoted abstinence as the chief way of avoiding pregnancy.

# Health insurers are reportedly under mounting pressure not to cover the morning-after pill.

# Four states – Arkansas, Georgia, Mississippi, and South Dakota – have approved laws allowing pharmacists to refuse to sell birth control pills.

Sometimes I wonder, what are they really fighting for?

I went to the diabetes clinic today and I lost three pounds since Thursday. I am also feeling much better since being on the hypoglycemic/diabetic diet.

My father-in-law and mother-in-law continue to lecture my husband that we need to put the kids in school so I can go to work, and we need to stop having children. Now mind you, they have no reason to give us this unsolicited advice, meaning they do not give us any money, let alone even Christmas gifts. They do not visit. My father-in-law has never even paid child support. My mother-in-law likes to have live-in boyfriends who stole thousands of dollars of my husbands childhood collectibles he had stored in her basement to sell for drugs.

Soooo, would it be totally innappropriate next time they give unsolcitited advice to shut them up say:

to my father-in-law: "why don't you marry your live-in girlfriend and stop shacking up like you are twenty already, pay something towards the support of your only child, and then we will consider moral and economic advice from you,"

to my mother-in-law: "why don't you stop sleeping around with drug addicts who steal from us, stop getting your car repoed, and then we will consider moral and economic advice from you,"

Granted, I know, you can't really say the child support thing as my husband is a grown man. But I love the way people comment and scrutinize our lives when their own lives have much more to scrutinize...and we wouldn't dream of getting into their business as much as they do ours.

Abortion is always a hot topic, especially in the blogosphere. What I am seeing more and more are pro-choicers coming to pro-life blogs and offering their two cents. I find this intriguing as I never had much interest in going to a pro-choice blog to debate in the comments section. I also find the debate interesting, and yet also nerve wracking. The part I find nerve wracking is that to many pro-choicers, we "anti-choicers" are let's see, racist, we never have a grip on reality and see the big picture, we are constantly trying to force are religion on people, and spend all our energy in trying to "trick" women into keeping their babies by lying, oh and of course none of us care about children or any social justice issues. They know this for a fact because they came to all our houses one by one, asked our opinions on the variety of social justice issues and proved that not a single one of us has ever done anything involving any other issue.
What really bugs me though, is this nonsense about "shaming", "conning", and "manipulating" women into having abortions keeping their babies. I think the Planned Parenthood urban legend email is a good example of this bizarre stereotype. Growing up, I had many friends who had abortions, and behind almost every abortion was in the very least manipulative boyfriend.

Now I am going to tell my story. This has been on my mind a lot lately after putting it in the farthest reaches of memory for many years. I am not sure why. I just read an almost identical account two days ago and thought it was a sign of some sort, plus a few other strange coincidences here and there.I have also been kind of feeling like since I avoid large parts of myself, I do not blog about issues that are on my mind because then I might have to reveal things about myself I would rather not. I actually told this story in the comments box at Generations for Life, when someone asked me a question. I figured if I put it in the comments box there, maybe I should retell it here.

Dawn Eden posts a somewhat confusing story about a teenager who becomes pregnant in high school, and cannot play basketball, but wants to return to basketball, and at first the school won't let her, but then they do...the story is a bit long.
I commented. My comments, along with a few others were picked up by Jill of Feministe as heartless condemnation against teen mothers or people who have sex something like that.

I commented because I had a lot of experience with knowing pregnant teens as a teen and young adult. My high school had one policy to not stigmatize, my husband's high school had a different policy. Frankly I am not sure what is better, and a study on the issue would be interesting. However, I feel kind of strongly that getting pregnant is a choice, and not a great choice as a teen. I have known girls who have had abortions, many who had their children. Of the ones who had their children, I have known two groups ones whose parents let them struggle a bit with the consequences, and ones whose parents pretty much became a parent to their grandchildren to allow their children to continue on the same path. Many are still in the same relationship ruts many years later. (By the way, I realize I am out of the realm of the story of the girl and basketball and her scholarship. Each scenario is different. These are some thoughts on the issue in general.)

I started to blog about an example someone in our family, but decided against it. I was not sure how to do so without sounding incredibly frustrated and well, "judgemental".

More and more, the American opinion about sex is becoming that sex is simply fun like playing Monopoly. Those of us who equate sex with things like reproduction, love and bonding,respect for ourselves or others, or sexually transmitted diseases are out of it, judgemental, cold, or a number of other things that means out-of-touch with reality. I find this so baffling because regardless of your morals, nature is still nature. If you are holding a ball and let go, it will fall to the floor. If you have sex, you have a chance of getting pregnant, that is not old fashioned stigma. If you have a child, that child will change things in your life. That child will need care, food, clothing, love and nurturing. That is what is, not outdated opinion. That is just why people have parents. It seems like there is a notion that if you keep yelling enough times that these facts are not true, and you insult the people enough who believe in these facts, you can alter reality. I suppose it works a bit. It seemed to me there was a time when mothers would rather die than see harm come to her child, now 1,300,000 mothers a year pay to have their children killed. Still trying to change terms of nature is an injustice.

It is not a favor to teenage girls to keep saying "sex is ok as long as you have a condom" over and over again (although it might be to some teenage boys who want sex without commitment). It is not about hating girls, being unrealistic, or having some desire to point fingers and throw stones. It is about working for a fulfilling, happy life,loving relationships, and giving your offspring as stable environments as possible. Being used by a boy is not fun, and I repeatedly get frustrated for all the sex ed that is out there, no one talks about the emotional side, and the reason for the emotional side is to keep married couples together and bonded. Having children too young regardless if you decide to keep the child, abort, or put that child up for adoption is hard. And STDs can make people very sick, with perhaps permanent side effects and even kill.

Since we have dissassociated sex with reproduction, it is then that girls who turn up pregnant are kind of like "I didn't see that coming", not girls who are used to seeing traditional marriage=families, marriage=families over and over again. (Of course again, the myth is that traditional family roles means that we never teach our children anything about sex and tell them babies come from storks. Whatever.)Why has this become such a common place taboo? Morals aside, I am baffled by the logic (or lack thereof) of it. I am so tired of seeing girls in dreadful, depressing dramas with their "baby daddies". I am tired of seeing children without fathers. I am so sad that this has become the norm, and this is just what people do. I know I am preaching to the choir, but I am so tired and frustrated. I know so many people I would like to see better for.

The Sear's Guy came while I was at the doctors. He stayed 5 minutes (he did fix the dryer) and charged $118. Life!

I actually really wouldn't care if he came today earlier or later, except I have to go to the diabetes clinic at 3. It seems since my last OB appointment last week, I...gained...n.i.n.e pounds. Oh the shame. I knew I gained weight because the reflection in the mirror was looking a bit less like me, and a bit more like Miss Piggy.

I have been having trouble with hypoglycemia (syncope, sweats, seeing stars) and in order to preempt that, I stuff my face. I will eat a bit of cereal and still almost pass out, then add a few pieces of celery to no avail, then add a cookie or whatever I can quickly stuff in my face. This happens a few times a day. The doctor decided to send me to the diabetes clinic nurtitionist to learn how to eat with hypoglycemia. I started whining "I feel so bad, I used to be a personal trainer..." She said to me "I know you know how to eat right, but it is really hard when you do not feel well. You need to be a patient now, not a caregiver." She was right. I don't know at all how to transfer any eating common sense into "please don't pass out now..."

Frankly, I know nothing about eating to prevent hypoglycemia. So I have to go, and the Sears guy is supposed to be here. Life!

He was supposed to come last Wednesday between 8-5 (yes, fo' ra-yel, between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m.). At about 3.45 p.m. after sitting around waiting all day for the Sears guy, we get a phone call that he was running late, and will not be able to come until next Tuesday. Not later, not tomorrow, another week! I was like "Lady, I have five kids and dryer!" I didn't say that, but I was most certainly thinking it!

My husband was annoyed, so we went to look at new dryers. Our budget really was not as large as I liked if we had planned on the purchase, and if I bought a new dryer, I want an upgrade. I want a front loading job (and washer) that can handle my king size quilts, not another version of what I have already, so I opted to wait until we got the older one fixed.

You know, there is a spiritual lesson in this that God seems to love teaching me a lot (I get it, I do-see I'm even blogging it Lord). We really count on Him to make all the little everyday stuff work as well as it does so we can function almost normally. I remember one morning my husband lost the car keys in the snow, but he could not find them because he had to leave before sun up. I was amazed how such a little thing like a key really changed the course of the day.

Today Mr. Sears Dryer Fixer is supposed to come between 8 and noon. I have a doctor's appoinment at 8.45, so I might not be here when he comes. Aside from wanting my dryer fixed, I have this thing about having strange people (actually, maybe "strange" is not the word because he could be perfectly normal and nice), but you know, outsiders in my house. It always makes me uneasy. I never feel like the house is as clean it should, I have to be like polite, and I am always hoping Fastolph doesn't do something horrible and dangerous so I don't have to start screaming at him in front of people. One time he started randomly hammering nails into the walls out of the blue when the um, landlord was here. Honestly, he never did that before.

This Mary Kay lady keeps calling and I keep putting her off for the same reasons. Also, since I am a fat, lazy, pregnant lady, the house really is not as clean as I like at all. She won't seem to take "no" for an answer. I could never be a pushy sales person.If a pregnant lady said "I have morning sickness and don't want to clean my house" I would be like "OK". I never make any money and sales stuff.

I am going to go do something constructive. I got up 45 minutes ago to do my work-out, and here I am blogging. I'm going to gain 500 pounds with this baby.

This commercial is a dramatization of my toddlers and their older sister.

This cracks me up because the mannerisms are exactly like my children.

Is there any reason why I have to put clothes on my 19-month old (besides a diaper), when the temps are in the 80s to 90s, we are not going anywhwere and no one is coming over?

There is yet another horrific child abuse story in the local paper today. Skip it if you like, it's depressing, but at least the child in this story is alive and being cared for now. I am sure any mother can relate to the dread when you read these accounts that the child is the same age as one of your children. The story then becomes more real because you know what a child that age feels. These babies are mostly baffled because they have no concept of why this happening to them.

I am often left with a sense of I could have done something, which of course is not ridiculous. If I could have, I would have.

There is one part of this sad story that seems to be a common thread in so many of these sad stories:

Police said all three children were abused, but Munoz administered the most violent punishment to Xctasy because she wasn't his child and because he was angry that Hernandez had recently been with another man.

Dawn Eden recently posted an excerpt from her new book The Thrill of the Chaste. She also linked to some of the responses to her book. Many of the comments range from outrage to outrageous. (I actually can only link to Dawn's site, and anyone can feel free to follow the links. This is PG blog).

I am both baffled and even scared. I am baffled because Amazon sells like over ten thousand books or something. I am sure that nine thousand books of those books are books that hold no interest for me or even of subject matter I completely agree with. You probably will not see me buying a book on a person's first hand account of how Kabbalah gave them peace and happiness, nor will you see me dishing it here. I could care less. But let's say I did decide to blog about it-you will not see 700 hundred comments (yeah right, like I get that much traffic to begin with so maybe I should say "if Mark Shea reviewed it...") with nasty comments about the writer's name and very personal practices. You will just see like 20 comments like "yawn, that's silly" or "that's why I'm Catholic".

I am scared a bit, because I get glimpses here and there of how crazy the world is. But for the most part, I try to surround myself with like-minded people and keep myself sheltered. It's protectttive because who wants their choices dished all the time? Family does enough of that. I often forget that people simply don't think the way I do. I mean I know they don't, but I always thought deep down inside they did, but are often blindsided by things like adolescence or other American delbilitating illnesses. So to me, if I were not Catholic, when a woman writes a book about saving yourself for a man to commit himself to you seems to me a book about a person making an extraordinary effort for something they truly want, not something to be met with obscenities.

But you know,I think what I find disturbing is just that. I was raised that you simply don't disagree with obscenities or below the belt remarks. If you disgree, you do so with a point: "Oh but I really do think avocados taste good, and would love some with dinner,"
not: "You jerk, you don't like avocados because you're just stupid because you have no taste buds! By the way, your name sounds silly on top of that!"

How, oh how am I going to raise children in this culture? I ask that of myself so much, maybe I should rename my blog that.

On Friday I had a doctor's appointment. For reasons that are unknown, not only do I have the usual morning sickness, but when I eat a meal, I get sweaty, rapid heart beats and greatly fatigued that I immediately go to bed and sleep. When I called the doctor and said these are MS symptoms I never had before, they asked me to come in. The midwife deduced that I am hypoglycemic, and needed to eat smaller meals more frequently. I said that I understand hypoglycemia and am used to the symptoms when I don't eat, but when I eat? She just shrugged and gave me a script for an anti-nausea medicine (which is actually a anti-histamine).
Afterwards, she said let's listen to the baby's heartbeat. She could not find a heartbeat, which sent me into an instant panic because the last time that happened it was 11 years ago, and an ultrasound determined the baby had died. So I went for an ultrasound and I was so relived to find out the problem was the little bugger just wouldn't sit still. I was certain I would relive another miscarriage. But there he was kicking up against the walls and propelling himself backwards with his little feet.

Oh yeah, I said "he" because it looks like another boy. And "he" will probably be five years old before his father and I agree on yet one more boy's name.

In the meantime, I am still getting sweaty and sick when I eat.

A friend's father passed away. His name is Gary Flansburg.

I wanted to look up something on Black Genocide.org, but I didn't know the web address off the top of my head. I Googled "Maragret Sanger's Negro Project", and the first result was a page in the Planned Parenthood site called "The Truth About Margaret Sanger". I of course saw the irony because the "truth" will of course be followed by a number of lies.

To my surprise, the first quotes they had of Margaret Sanger to convince us that she was not a racist (who did not believe birth control should be used to lessen the black population remember) in my opinion revealed the opposite sentiment:

In a letter to philanthropist Albert Lasker, from whom she hoped to raise funds for the project, Sanger wrote that she wanted to help

a group notoriously underprivileged and handicapped to a
large measure by a 'caste' system that operates as an
added weight upon their efforts to get a fair share
of the better things in life. To give them the means of helping
themselves is perhaps the richest gift of all. We believe
birth control knowledge brought to this group, is the most
direct, constructive aid that can be given them to improve
their immediate situation (Sanger, 1939, July).

So, what are the "better things in life?" Men being able to sleep around without commitment? Being married and not having children with the person you love? If she was so worried about black people having "the better things in life", why didn't she hand out free gift certificates to Macy's, fine restaurants, scholarships, or Cadillacs? OK, maybe some of my choices are over the top, but I am not sure what she is talking about. Does she mean "better things" like necessities, or luxuries? If it's necessities, maybe providing those instead of birth control would be of better help.

My mother was born in 1950, and grew up in the Sugar Hill section of Harlem (her clinic was in Harlem), and moved to St. Albens, Queens (home to Run DMC, Al Roker, James Brown, and if anyone read the book The Color of Water) as a teenager. The Harlem of her childhood, before the ravages of birth control (now the black community has an 80% out of wedlock birth rate) and drugs was a working class neighborhood where even though her mother worked, the neighbors kept tabs on the kids, because if they did anything amiss, their parents would be notified. Hers was a neighborhood with intact families, where girls attended finishing school and grew up to be debutantes, where my mother attended the first black private school (The Modern School), and her sister went on to be the first black woman to go to Bronx Science.A neighborhood regardless of your faith, when the Church bells rang at noon for the Angelus, everyone at least stopped if you were not Catholic. Sugar Hill is no longer like that, and I wonder what factors transpired to change it...

Anyway, my mother's family was working class, but like many of us, we don't realize there are much better things than having the bills paid, hugs from our family, and a fresh baked apple pie, until someone points out we are falling short materially. I hear no stories from her about what she didn't have, but lots of stories of her following her big brother around, buying a pickled pigs ear from the corner store for a nickel on the way to school (yuck), or Saturday night TV shows and her father fixing special Saturday night treats.

In 1942, she wrote again to Lasker, saying

I think it is magnificent that we are in on the ground floor,
helping Negroes to control their birth rate, to reduce their
high infant and maternal death rate, to maintain better
standards of health and living for those already born, and
to create better opportunities for those who will be born (Sanger, 1942).

This would almost sound OK except if she weren't racially motivated, why is her ambition not to help "people" (as opposed to "Negros") with their maternal and infant death rates period. End of story. If that is her goal, then that should be her goal. But those words are thrown in for good measure, in my opinion. Her main goal, because we are talking about "Planned Parenthood's" main goal in helping Negros control their birth rate.

When I hear people talk like this, I grab my kids and run.

Update:I found this from Annie Banno on the subect from like a month ago.

Yesterday my dryer decided to stop working. Do you know what a handicap that is? I have to do at least two loads a day, or else I feel like the Dirty Laundry House. And there is no clothes line happening outside with the rain, rain, and more rain.

The last load that managed to get done was my bedsheets. Oh how I love the first day of nice, fresh, clean bedsheets. My normal routine is to do everyone's sheets on Fridays-wash them and remake the beds, but I have been doing them whenever as I have not had the energy to make lots of beds in one day. But today I got around to our sheets.

Little Fredegar climbed into bed with me this evening, and at first I didn't know he had a piece of pie crust. When he fell alseep, I saw his little fist, and looked into it, and there was the pie crust piece. I threw it out, but must have missed some because I felt crumbs under him all night. Now let me tell you, there are few things worse feeling than that, such as: red ants biting your feet, throwing up, or a colonsocopy. It's up there. Not too mention it's just gross. I am often amazed how my kids don't automatically bring roaches (and oh so grateful to God).

I can't wash my sheets until the friggin' Sears repairman comes at the first available appointment-next Wednesday. Yes, I can vacuum the sheets, or wash stuff and take it the laundrymat or whatever, or something equally annoying. But annoying is the operative word here.

I hated that movie. My hating that movie has very little to do with my feelings towards the war. It was just such annoying, blatant, one-sided propaganda that was touted as a documentary, and was no such thing. I watched this movie because someone said that everyone should "educate themselves" and watch it regardless of your political affiliation. I couldn't finish it because it was such baloney. It's like when you see movies like this, if you were on the fence whether you like Bush, or are a fence sitter on the war, it makes you want to become a hard line republican just despite Michael Moore!

Sgt. Peter Damon, 33, a supporter of President George W. Bush and the Iraq war, claims Moore misused the footage to portray him "in a false light" and as "disagreeing with the president about the war effort and as disagreeing with the war effort itself."

"It was kind of almost like the enemy was using me for propaganda. What soldier wants to be involved in that?" Damon told CBS's local television news affiliate. "I didn't lose my arms over there to come back and be used as ammunition against my commander-in-chief."

I wonder how much money Michael Moore made from his "educational documentary", to misuse this man's quotes for his own agenda.