Becoming a mama means a lot of things, including losing the luxury of being free to do all those idiosyncratic things you did when you were alone before you had a baby. The whole concept of surveillance gets re imagined for parents, because having a baby suddenly means that you are responsible for watching a little person all the time. And that becomes normal, which makes everything you know about "privacy" shift. Or at least that's how I feel.
Before I was a mama, my partner would be at work for long shifts. Early in our relationship, the shifts were at times when I was home, so I got to laze about if I wanted, eat what I wanted (or skip dinner and eat ice cream!), read, watch TV, go to the park, go shopping, see friends - whatever I felt, I could do it without worrying about what anyone might think of how I was spending my time. As my pregnancy progressed, he changed his work schedule to mesh with mine more - we worked at the same times so we could see each other in the evenings and prepare for baby. I still could go home in the middle of the day and take a nap if I wanted, or watch TV, or take a sick day and have time to myself to recharge (or be sick - that would happen too!)
For a while after Henry was born, he slept in our room and we had audio monitors for when he was napping. Once he started pulling up and crawling in his crib, we turned to a video monitor to keep tabs on the active little guy. Somehow, since we always have to know he is safe when he is awake, knowing he is safe when he is asleep makes sense to me now. But, at the same time, I find myself feeling more surveilled as well - I don't get those times to myself to read in bed on a Saturday, or eat Lucky Charms for dinner, or take a mid afternoon nap for no reason whenever I feel it come on. I have to have reasons for my actions, or we all have to agree that we are going to have a relaxing, quiet morning together that serves no purpose at all.
Since I am a working mama, and my husband is a full time papa, the chances I have to be in the house by myself are very rare. These chances to be alone are even more rare for Bret, since Henry is a little person with needs, who you have to be aware of even when he is sleeping.
This reconceptualization of what it means to be in the world has caught be a bit off guard. Certainly you know going into parenthood that your life isn't just about you anymore, and that your baby's needs will trump yours every time, but the reality of that is way more intense than I ever expected. I can add it to the very long list of things I didn't entirely expect, but of course, that things will surprise you endlessly is just another Mama Law.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Mama Law
There are certain things I have come to love about being a mama. There are things we can expect, things that seem axiomatic, things that soothe and comfort even in the midst of complete chaos. These are Mama Laws that only mamas get to know.
Even though perhaps the biggest Mama Law of all is that nothing is totally within your control anymore, I have found that I can expect and embrace that most of the time. I've learned to let things go, and can even find peace in a messy house, a hectic week, or a midnight waking.
But there are other, powerful Mama Laws. One Mama Law is that as mamas, even when we can't control things, we can love. We can support. We can nurture our babies. We are strong, and are there to protect them as fragile little creatures who are new to the world. We are fierce, even as we are the peaceful center of these beautiful children's lives. We protect, even when we are terrified or sad or confused. We may not have control, but we find strength that defies reason.
As with any law, there are exceptions. All human bodies are fragile, from the tiniest baby to the healthiest mama. Sometimes, completely outside of anyone's control, bodies break. Even mamas die.
Throughout my pregnancy with Henry and through his infancy, I was supported by a group of mamas in my neighborhood. Beautiful, strong mamas who were peaceful and reassuring. Mamas who shared in my joy, calmed my fears, and introduced me gently to the world of being a mama.
One of these beautiful, vibrant mamas died unexpectedly last week four days after giving birth to her second baby. There was no way to predict the pulmonary embolism, and no way to prevent or treat it. She was a strong mama, a powerful mama, but bodies are fragile and so the cruel exception to the Mama Law of Strength leaves all of us who deeply loved her trying to make sense of things.
When the words "Marylynn died" were uttered, my world shifted in ways I can't explain. For me, Mother's Day (two days later) was harder than I thought I could bear. I wanted to think of anything except being a mama. I slept. I blocked it out. I couldn't celebrate the joys of being a mama when the Fierce, Strong Mama Law was not enough to protect one of the strongest mamas I have ever known.
But then there is the Mama Law that there is even peace in chaos. It's in honor of Mama Marylynn that I will celebrate this Mama Law for now, and work to find peace and strength even in this chaos.
Note: It wasn't a pulmonary embolism after all, but rather what I believe is called "spontaneous arterial dissection."
Even though perhaps the biggest Mama Law of all is that nothing is totally within your control anymore, I have found that I can expect and embrace that most of the time. I've learned to let things go, and can even find peace in a messy house, a hectic week, or a midnight waking.
But there are other, powerful Mama Laws. One Mama Law is that as mamas, even when we can't control things, we can love. We can support. We can nurture our babies. We are strong, and are there to protect them as fragile little creatures who are new to the world. We are fierce, even as we are the peaceful center of these beautiful children's lives. We protect, even when we are terrified or sad or confused. We may not have control, but we find strength that defies reason.
As with any law, there are exceptions. All human bodies are fragile, from the tiniest baby to the healthiest mama. Sometimes, completely outside of anyone's control, bodies break. Even mamas die.
Throughout my pregnancy with Henry and through his infancy, I was supported by a group of mamas in my neighborhood. Beautiful, strong mamas who were peaceful and reassuring. Mamas who shared in my joy, calmed my fears, and introduced me gently to the world of being a mama.
One of these beautiful, vibrant mamas died unexpectedly last week four days after giving birth to her second baby. There was no way to predict the pulmonary embolism, and no way to prevent or treat it. She was a strong mama, a powerful mama, but bodies are fragile and so the cruel exception to the Mama Law of Strength leaves all of us who deeply loved her trying to make sense of things.
When the words "Marylynn died" were uttered, my world shifted in ways I can't explain. For me, Mother's Day (two days later) was harder than I thought I could bear. I wanted to think of anything except being a mama. I slept. I blocked it out. I couldn't celebrate the joys of being a mama when the Fierce, Strong Mama Law was not enough to protect one of the strongest mamas I have ever known.
But then there is the Mama Law that there is even peace in chaos. It's in honor of Mama Marylynn that I will celebrate this Mama Law for now, and work to find peace and strength even in this chaos.
Note: It wasn't a pulmonary embolism after all, but rather what I believe is called "spontaneous arterial dissection."
Friday, March 21, 2008
Spring has sprung!
Last weekend we went to celebrate the second birthday of our friend's daughter, Bronwyn. Last year, we were there with little peanut Henry, about six weeks old, new to the parenting game. This year, Henry was running around everywhere, and was in love with all the water - sprinklers, kiddie pools - he had a blast. Ironically, a baby born on Henry's first birthday was also there. Seeing this beautiful little boy - exactly one year younger than Henry - really made me appreciate just how amazing this past year has been. Henry has learned SO MUCH and is still so fresh in the world! It's amazing to think of all the things this spring will mean for him.
For his mama, however, spring means loads of work and lots of travel. Balancing is getting easier, mainly because I know that even when I have to be away, Bret's taking amazing care of Henry, and Henry definitely knows that it's his mama coming home. Now, if he'd just get the hang of calling me mama...
For his mama, however, spring means loads of work and lots of travel. Balancing is getting easier, mainly because I know that even when I have to be away, Bret's taking amazing care of Henry, and Henry definitely knows that it's his mama coming home. Now, if he'd just get the hang of calling me mama...
Monday, March 10, 2008
Today I won something, which makes me like my job - sort of.
Today I found out that the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit agreed with me that the lower court and the Bureau of Prisons gave my client the shaft.
The good news is that I know I can find a good case, write a good appellate brief, and win something. That makes me really like my job. Knowing you can effectively advocate for someone who has been rendered voiceless in so many ways is a good feeling. Giving her a voice in the system, and making the federal court that initially threw her out eat crow does feel good.
The bad news is that this small victory does very little to change the life of my client, who is experiencing a life that I can not even begin to imagine. While I helped her win her appeal, all it means for her is that she still has the right to represent herself in federal court on what are considered basic brutality claims. The small victory on appeal will not get her out of prison, it will not help her win her case and hold anyone accountable, and it will not change anything that happens every day in her life.
My client is living in a male US Penitentiary serving 17 years for bank robbery. If you met her, you would never know she has a penis. She considers herself a pre-operative MTF, because she wants an operation, and she has been on hormones for years. She has experienced so much brutality and disrespect at the hands of guards and on the whim of staff in federal prison, and yet she is probably the most positive and inspiring client I have ever had the opportunity to represent.
So today, I like my job. I feel like I got an affirmation that I can do it, and do it well enough to feel like I can hold myself out as a civil rights attorney. Really. Me. A civil rights attorney. Or a prisoners' rights attorney. Practicing in federal court. It still feels weird in a way. This is not the first case that has had my name attached, but it's the first where I have been lead counsel. And I won. For my favorite client. That feels good. I only wish that the law would do more.
The good news is that I know I can find a good case, write a good appellate brief, and win something. That makes me really like my job. Knowing you can effectively advocate for someone who has been rendered voiceless in so many ways is a good feeling. Giving her a voice in the system, and making the federal court that initially threw her out eat crow does feel good.
The bad news is that this small victory does very little to change the life of my client, who is experiencing a life that I can not even begin to imagine. While I helped her win her appeal, all it means for her is that she still has the right to represent herself in federal court on what are considered basic brutality claims. The small victory on appeal will not get her out of prison, it will not help her win her case and hold anyone accountable, and it will not change anything that happens every day in her life.
My client is living in a male US Penitentiary serving 17 years for bank robbery. If you met her, you would never know she has a penis. She considers herself a pre-operative MTF, because she wants an operation, and she has been on hormones for years. She has experienced so much brutality and disrespect at the hands of guards and on the whim of staff in federal prison, and yet she is probably the most positive and inspiring client I have ever had the opportunity to represent.
So today, I like my job. I feel like I got an affirmation that I can do it, and do it well enough to feel like I can hold myself out as a civil rights attorney. Really. Me. A civil rights attorney. Or a prisoners' rights attorney. Practicing in federal court. It still feels weird in a way. This is not the first case that has had my name attached, but it's the first where I have been lead counsel. And I won. For my favorite client. That feels good. I only wish that the law would do more.
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