Our Right to Choose
Does infertility divide men and women into two categories? Those who can and those who cannot? Or those who have and those who have not?
For women, this seems to continue a conversation that is so basic you can separate out the elements with your bare eyes.
Women who can have and do have babies and families. And women who do not.
Same conversation as women who stay at home with those babies and those who go outside the home to work? Same conversation as those women who choose to breast feed and those who do not? Same conversation as those women who choose to participate in attachment parenting and those who do not? Same conversation as women who choose to cook for their children and those who choose to feed them in a different way?
The conversation, taken down to its elements is the same.
Do we support each other? Do we support one another’s choices?
Or do we rip each other apart because the other woman hasn’t chosen what we have chosen?
Fertility Treatment Judgement
We see it even in fertility treatment; even within the subtext of infertility. We judge each other constantly. We judge ourselves constantly. Should we do that fertility treatment? Try that doctor/practice? We search the media eagerly to hear of the next best thing; whether it is a doctor or a food or an exercise, when we see that it’s linked to a successful pregnancy. We judge the efficacy of the other’s choices. If fertility treatment cycles work, we are tempted to rush and duplicate what that woman chose. When it is unsuccessful, we often condemn that other woman for her seemingly ridiculous choices.
We all have choices. They are not usually unlimited choices. Nor uncomplicated choices. Some of the conversation swirling around about fertility treatment implies that everyone has access to treatment. That is simply and absolutely untrue. Many men and women out there will never be able to afford or have substantial enough health insurance to be able to see fertility treatment.
And yet we continue to judge one another. Instead of getting on the same side, supporting one another’s struggles, we judge. Instead of supporting the other woman’s right to make a choice, we separate and are divisive.
I’m not diving into this here. Not going to make even more judgment on those judging. That would be just joining the party that I would prefer not to be at. I’m here to say a few things about this though.
Making Decisions for Oneself
I can barely make good decisions for myself. Living in my own skin, understanding my own life after having lived for decades; I still often have to search deeply for what is the best decision for me. I often find it much easier to live in my glass palace and instruct all those folks around me about what the best thing is for them. So much easier to understand and simplify a life or decision looked at from the outside. With so much less information, I feel so prepared that I know what’s best for someone else. By making declarations about a broad right and wrong, in effect, I am saying that I know what’s best for someone else. Despite not having lived their lives. Despite not facing their decisions from having lived those lives. Still, I know best?
I think I’ll stick to figuring out my own decisions, based on my own life. I welcome the compassionate and loving individuals in my life who gently comment, guide, and advise me on a very regular basis to continue doing so. I chose to invite that into my life and resist staying closed off and defensive. I know that I need help.
I just also know that help isn’t in the form of someone telling me what’s best for me. That’s for me to figure out. Whether it’s about fertility treatment or breast feeding or childcare.
And I support your right to figure it out as well. Any help I can give, I’m glad to do it.
But I know that you are the authority on your own life. And I will respect that.
Follow Lisa on Google+
Parenting After Infertility
I saw the first signs of fall yesterday. One tree, of so many green, that has the flaming colors of autumn. Orange, yellow and even a tinge of red.
Seeing the hint allowed me to enjoy the gorgeous weather of the summer in a more delicious way. The colors, the temperature, the breeze, the lack of a jacket; the pieces of summer that mean the most to me.
I am honored and privileged to know quite a few of my Fertile Yoga students for many years. Many of them are mothers now. And I know their babies. Some of them I watch turn into children, toddling about.
Do they enjoy their children more than moms and dads who don’t struggle with infertility?
Do they appreciate precious moments more?
Do they sigh over the milestones with a view to the past in their minds?
Do they love their children more?
Do they enjoy colic?
Do they enjoy cleaning up diapers when a baby is sick more?
So maybe the answer to the earlier questions needs a qualifier.
Yes, we have a different sense of parenthood when we are aware that it almost didn’t happen. Most things that we struggle with, we do appreciate more.
Do we love our children more?
Do we want more for our children?
Do we appreciate some moments in a different way?
A resounding yes.
And do we feel guilt?
For not appreciating every single moment because it’s what we wanted so much, so who are we to complain?
A simple way to put it, perhaps, but there is guilt that we heap on ourselves for being moms and dads.
Somehow what we expect is that because infertility came and stayed for a while that we will never be tired parents. Or exhausted parents. Or disgusted parents. Or resentful parents. Or parents who simply want 13 seconds to ourselves.
Fertile Yoga Parenting Truths: Glory and Exhaustion
And, oh, my Fertile Yoga students who have become parents will tell you this: once these wanted, desired babies get here, you will still get tired. And overdone. And overwhelmed.
You will simply be a parent. Infertility or not.
Once our babies, our children, arrive, we become parents.
In all its glory and exhaustion.
No guilt, moms and dads out there, who are feeling exhausted. You earned the right to feel tired.
When our children arrive, we feel those changes seismically. We see the season behind us and know that time has passed and we have become who we wanted to become.
Lisa Rosenthal's Google+
We all know people who try to warn us away from having children, especially when infertility rears its ugly head. We all know that they really do not understand. They don’t understand how, what is a powerful urge in the beginning, it then becomes so all consuming. They don’t understand how, faced with not having children and a family, your choices feel so limited and narrow. They don’t understand the pain and loss of this particular dream, which is so different than other dreams, so much more basic and primal. They don’t understand, if they have not experienced, not having a choice about having their children.
The cover article in the New York Magazine is not telling us not to have children. It is speaking to how many parents feel about parenting. Scary it is. Definitely upsetting and scary. Especially for those of us spending so many precious resources to have our children. We’d like to feel that we would be exempt from what is being reported, how these other parents feel, since we’ve tried so hard to bring our families into being. Funny thing is (funny, odd, not funny, ha ha) that once you become a parent, you are a parent. You are not in a special category because it took an IUI or IVF cycle or 3 years to get there. You are not exempt from the frustration, confusion and despair that parents feel as they raise their children.
Here’s what the author (Jennifer Senior) says early on in the article:
Yet a wide variety of academic research shows that parents are not happier than their childless peers, and in many cases are less so. This finding is surprisingly consistent, showing up across a range of disciplines.
And here’s a quote from the first page:
The economist Andrew Oswald, who’s compared tens of thousands of Britons with children to those without, is at least inclined to view his data in a more positive light: “The broad message is not that children make you less happy; it’s just that children don’t make you more happy.” That is, he tells me, unless you have more than one. “Then the studies show a more negative impact.”
The article goes on…
It wouldn’t be a particularly bold inference to say that the longer we put off having kids, the greater our expectations. “There’s all this buildup—as soon as I get this done, I’m going to have a baby, and it’s going to be a great reward!” says Ada Calhoun, the author of Instinctive Parenting and founding editor-in-chief of Babble, the online parenting site. “And then you’re like, ‘Wait, this is my reward? This nineteen-year grind?’ ”
Annette Lareau, the sociologist who coined the term “concerted cultivation” to describe the aggressive nurturing of economically advantaged children, puts it this way: “Middle-class parents spend much more time talking to children, answering questions with questions, and treating each child’s thought as a special contribution. And this is very tiring work.” Yet its work few parents feel that they can in good conscience neglect, says Lareau, “lest they put their children at risk by not giving them every advantage.”
What does all this mean? Probably different things to each person who reads it. Some of you may be annoyed by my even blogging about it today. I do know that our focus can become more and more narrow when we are trying to conceive, that other choices feel almost impossible. And while we do not appreciate being told how tough it is to have children by our friends, maybe reading this article and seeing the research can allow you to consider things that you have not been able to otherwise.
I am not advising you to give up your quest to have children. I am encouraging you to take a good, hard look at what your motivation is, what you think the payback will be. Each step of this path is challenging. Conceiving and giving birth to our children is still only the first step, however long it takes, however much work it is. Then we have these children and evidently, according to this article, many of us may not be the happier for it.