Yesterday we spent the day at hospital as my son had to have a suspicious lump removed from his shin. We're awaiting the results and he's a tough little person who is coping well- he barely seems to notice the fact that he even had surgery. He is almost 4 years old and is way too active to let something like 15 stitches slow him down!
We arrived at the hospital at 7am. Just waiting for his surgery was traumatic enough to have to deal with, but our day got worse when I casually asked the parents in the bed next to us what their son was here for.
Dad: "Oh, it's a circumcision thing."
Myself: "Pardon?"
Dad: "He's having surgery on his circumcision."
Myself: "Sorry? He's being circumcised?"
Dad: "Oh, no, they are fixing the first one."
Myself: "Done recently?"
Dad: "No, he had it done as a newborn."
Myself: "Oh, that's horrific...."
I had to grit my teeth and turn my head and try not to say something which would only inflame what was already a bad situation with a room full of starving children who weren't even allowed water as they were all awaiting surgery.
Not only had this poor little boy already been mutilated, but they had mutilated him so that he needed surgery to correct the first mutilation. Two unnecessary surgeries and the poor little boy was 18 months old.
Although I was anxious about my own son's necessary surgery, I found it hard not to think about the poor little boy in the bed next to us. How did he feel when he was first done? How much pain had he been in since then because of the first unnecessary surgery? How much pain would he be in after this one?
The thought of them cutting into my son's flesh made me feel so awful, but the thought of insisting it is done to your newborn son's genitals makes me feel absolutely revolted.
He was the child to go in before my son, and as I watched them carry him into surgery I couldn't help but be angry. I would have done anything to not be in a hospital with my son, and the thought of this little boy being there because his parents chose to remove healthy tissue from his genitals when he was days old made me feel quite ill.
While their son was in recovery, my son was wheeled into theatre and I held his hand and stroked him while they anaesthetized him. I went back into the ward and waited for my son's surgery to be finished.
Both of the little boy's parents were waiting there as I waited for my son's surgery to be over. We exchanged polite smiles and leafed through newspapers. I watched the clock and hoped my son's surgery would be over soon. They came to tell me my son was in recovery but wouldn't be awake for a while as he was drowsy from morphine (which I never imagined they would give to a child, actually!). I jiggled my feet and waited for when my son was awake enough so I could go and be with him.
Then they wheeled the little boy in. He was screaming and sobbing, clawing his way out of the metal crib to cling to his parents. They held him and rocked him and he screamed. They sang him songs and walked him around and he screamed. Nurses came in and pulled the curtain around the bed, talking to the parents and checking his nappy for blood. The little boy continued to scream. They gave him morphine and he went from screaming to sobbing, curled into a little ball as his parents rocked him, shushed him, patted him, rubbed him. For half an hour I sat next to the curtain pulled around his crib and I had to try not to cry for this poor little boy. His heart started to beat too fast and more morphine was administered. They laid him on the crib and he whimpered in his sleep, his body curled into the foetal position.
My son was rousing so I went to recovery and sat with him for 20 minutes while he drifted in and out of consciousness. The mass in his shin wasn't what they expected and they had to remove much more than they thought. I thought he'd have 6 stitches, he has around 15. When he was ready to be moved back to the ward as we got back I could hear the little boy still whimpering, his mother out in the hall having some space while his father tried to soothe him.
We had to wait 3 more hours before we could take our son home. The entire time we were there post-surgery, the little boy next to us whimpered and cried in his sleep, his heart rate checked constantly. He would rouse and flail about, crying and raggedly choking on his own sobs. He pulled out the canula in his arm, spilling blood on the floor between our beds. I felt incredibly sick and incredibly sorry for this small person who had to be there because of a mistake.
When we left, they were still there, waiting for their son to be well enough to take home. Children who had been operated after my son was being discharged and this tiny little boy was still whimpering in his sleep, full of painkillers to numb a pain he never had to experience.
I've been an intactivist for years. When I discovered my son's sex I researched circumcision and realised just how barbaric it is. What I saw yesterday horrified me, and I was watching a toddler experience it. I can't imagine how awful it must be to see a newborn after male genital mutilation. This small boy was given a pre-operative sedative, general anaesthetic, morphine, codeine, paracetamol and more morphine- and he still whimpered in his sleep. I fail to see how anyone could say that a baby barely notices being circumcised- and with no anaesthetic and paracetamol for pain relief.
I'd give anything to keep my son away from a surgeon and away from pain.
I can't begin to grasp why anyone would willingly hand their perfectly whole, well child to a surgeon- and ask them to cut off healthy tissue for aesthetic or religious purposes.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
The HBAC waterbirth of Archer- guest post
The HBAC waterbirth of Archer- guest post, Anonymous
My son was born into a birthing pool in the middle of the afternoon at the end of March. It was mostly silent; I could hear the sounds of the school kids walking past, the sound of my dogs barking at them as usual. Life was going on around us outside and here I was, about to give birth normally for the first time. My first birth was an emergency caesarean, I hadn’t experienced a normal vaginal birth before. I never wanted to feel a baby taken out of my stomach ever again and now here I was, a total opposite experience for my second birth. No hospitals, no doctors, no interventions, no hospital rules, no limitations. Just myself, my partner, my doula and the midwives.
My daughter's first moments after she was born via cesarean.
Here is the story of my labour and birth…
10.30am, after an unusually decent night sleep (you know how it is when you are in those final days!) I grabbed some breakfast and sat down on the couch and jumped online. I had a funny feeling like a cramp and I went to the toilet. I sent my partner Scott a text message telling him to stay close to the phone, I think something might happen today. After a few minutes I needed to go to the toilet again and I had a bloody show. I rang Scott and told him to come home. I have a contraction. Ouch ouch OUCH. I ring my Midwife Emma to let her know that something’s happening. The pain is so bad I drop the phone mid-conversation. I have this incredible urge to push. Emma tells me she is still on the other end of town but is on her way. I was scared she wouldn’t make it in time! I ring my doula Jodee and tell her what’s happening. I describe my contractions to her and she tells me she will get to me within 30 minutes.
11:50am - Scott gets home, quickly comes into our room to check on me and says he is just going to start filling up the pool.
12pm - Jodee arrives. She puts soothing oils in the oil burner as soon as she arrives. She calms me down and starts helping me cope better with the pain. I feel more focused. I try to breathe through each contraction as they intensify. After 30 mins Jodee suggests I try the shower, so we move to the bathroom and I spend some time in there with the hot water on my back, leaning into Scott during each contraction.
1340 - After labouring away in my bedroom (and after a mishap where the hose filling the pool flies out and sprays water all over our TV) the pool is announced full! I make my way down there and climb in and it feels wonderful. I decide it’s most comfortable to keep kneeling and to lean over the side of the pool, holding onto Scott or Jodee’s hands. Each contraction seems to be getting more intense and longer. I am getting longer breaks between them where I am able to breathe slowly and recoup. I find the flickering lights of the electrical equipment around the TV as something I can focus on. I ask out loud if this is real labour (I get a few laughs..) The labour seems to be settling down into a groove. I wonder what’s going on. Everyone is telling me I am doing really well. I requested no internals so I had no idea what my body is doing. I had been trying not to push, I asked if I could push now, I get told I can go with it. Looking back through my labour notes I find that I was having a contraction once every 2 to 3 minutes lasting 60 seconds long. It sure felt intense!
Top, I am breathing through a contraction. Below, a rest in between14:30pm - I start to feel a little bit of stinging at the end of each contraction. WOW I thought calmly to myself...My baby is going to be arriving soon! So this is where I get back to the start of this story. I remember thinking my hair was all over the place. That I was glad it wasn’t too hot as my air conditioner doesn’t work that well when it’s hot and humid. I even wanted my dogs to stop barking. I never once thought about that scar on my uterus!
14:56pm - I keep getting longer feelings of stinging. Then I feel a pop and a stretching sensation and his head is out. Wow I remember feeling, that means the rest of him will follow! I can feel his head begin to rotate. It is the most awful feeling. Not painful, but it felt like someone was behind me pulling him around, and I ask if someone was pushing down on him, but no, the midwives tell me, that’s him turning all by himself. I am too scared to move and holding on I wait for the next contraction.
(Archer, head out- who is already looking at the world!)
I am cradling my baby on my chest and I start to call my family. I had already decided that I wasn’t going to let anyone know until after the birth, so it was wonderful to be able to call them up and say “Hey mum, dad, I had my baby not long ago!” I move back up to the bedroom and get comfortable in bed. We weigh and measure Archer. 3.3kgs, born at 3:03pm and 54cms long.
At 18:30 both Emma and Jodee have left. Scott’s parents bring our daughter back home to meet Archer. She sits on the bed next to us and reaches over to tickle his head and laughs. He fits seamlessly into our lives.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Living in a world where everything is toxic...
Almost every day, it becomes evident our world is toxic. Our water is polluted and has chemicals added to it which harm our organs, bones and gastro-intestinal tract. Our air is filled with chemicals, pesticides, airborne bacteria, viruses, mould spores and more.
The plastic toys made for children are rich with phthalates, known to cause cancer. Many of the sippy cups made for babies are made with plastics which contain Bisphenol A (BPA), another carcinogen. Our mattresses, clothing, carpets, paint and furniture leech toxins into our homes. Even our MDF furniture is releasing formaldehyde into our homes. The little toilet block which smells lovely is horribly toxic and poisoning us every time we use the bathroom. The dishwashing powder is making us ill, the dishwashing liquid is suppressing our immune systems, the pest treatment from 6 months ago is leeching into our organs. Every time we have a shower we are breathing in chloride and fluoride from the steamy water. Our shampoo and conditioner are nothing but lovely smelling chemicals, our soap is the same.
The fruit and vegetables we buy are sprayed with carbendazim and endosulfan- both known to cause infertility, genetic abnormalities, illness and poisoning. The tinned foods available in supermarkets are in cans lined with BPA rich plastics. The plastics our food are packaged in are also often BPA plastic. The cardboard boxes are treated with chemicals to deter pests. Our meats are gassed so they look pinker, or even flushed with ammonia to kill lethal bacteria which are a result of antibiotic use in animals.
From the moment our babies are born, they are exposed to toxins everywhere. If your baby is born at a hospital, in the moments after birth they are exposed to huge amounts of toxins. The gloves on the doctor or midwife's hands are exuding phthalates. The blanket or towel used to rub them down has been chemically treated to remove all bacteria, bodily waste and stains. The stethoscope used to check their heartbeat has been doused with antibacterial chemicals to ensure no cross-contamination. The floor has been mopped with chemicals, the air coming through the cooling system has passed through chemical treatment plants to ensure there is no bacteria. The staff are leaving chemical trails everywhere they go from the detergents they use in their washing machines and the fabric softeners which are designed to make us feel more comfortable. The waterproof mattress is giving off phthalates as you hold your baby close to you, waiting for it to latch on and have its first suckle at your breast- where it will receive an amazing dose of antibodies and the best food available- except your breastmilk contains chemicals too!
More and more people are developing allergies, sensitivities, illnesses. More and more adults are getting repeatedly sick from simple common viruses and developing cancers. More and more children are diagnosed with learning difficulties, Autism Spectrum disorders, suppressed immune systems, the inability to fight off a cold.
Is it a huge leap to consider that perhaps chemicals are negatively impacting on our health so dramatically? The evidence against chemicals is stacking up, and the companies selling them aren't going to withdraw their products or suggest you buy something less toxic. Our governments aren't doing anything about it. Saving energy is a worth-while goal, but nobody has started to take steps to save lives.
So how do you combat it? What difference can you make in your own home, and your own community?
Here are some simple steps to help you change the amount of chemicals in your home:
►Buy organic wherever possible. Some larger chains now sell organic items at prices similar to conventional items, but check they are certified by an organic certification body. Organic food not only means less pesticides going into the bodies in your home, it also reduces the chemicals used to produce your food. Look at farmer's markets and places with large amounts of organic produce so you aren't paying triple for organic items.
►Water filters which remove fluoride and chlorine will help improve your thyroid function and give your body a chance to detox. Fluoride is highly toxic and replaces iodine in the body which has helped create the generation of iodine-deficient people we see now. If you think fluoride is good for your teeth, brush well with a fluoride toothpaste all you like, but spit it out and rinse well. (Looking into the difference between sodium fluoride and calcium fluoride might change your mind on how useful fluoride toothpaste is.)
►buy environmentally friendly, greywater safe, biodegradable detergents for your dishes and clothing. Fabric softeners are highly toxic and release fumes which are carcinogenic. Lavender oil added to the rinse has the same nice smelling effect without the chemicals.
►Don't use soap or body care products on your baby unless it's necessary. Choose organic products with natural ingredients where possible. Baby products are often filled with petrochemicals and phthalates.
►Save yourself money and use bicarbonate soda and vinegar to clean your home. Add some Lavender and Tea Tree oil on occasion if you like- they are anti-bacterial and anti-fungal and they smell nice too.
►Don't use pesticides or insecticides in your home at all. Fly screens are more effective than fly spray, and those annoying flies that get in are easily dealt with using a rolled up newspaper, or two magazines slapped together.
►Throw out your disinfectants and use tea tree oil instead. Disinfectants kill the tiny germs which we need to help build our immune systems up.
►Air freshers are chemicals which mask odours, are toxic and have been proven to cause respiratory problems in children and adults. Essential oils are a much better option, mixed with water in a spritzer bottle.
►Choose toys made from natural materials for your children where possible. Wooden toys are also wonderful heirloom pieces to pass on to future generations.
►Look for BPA free plastics for cups, plates and bowls for children. Make sure your baby's cups and bottles aren't made from plastic containing Bisphenol A (#3,#6 and #7).
►Check how old the toys in your home are and throw out old toys which are releasing phthalates.
Even just eliminating some chemicals from your home will not only help your family, but it will have a long-term effect on the environment and the waterways. The chemical run-off from your home will be minimised and by using less chemicals you are decreasing the amount of carbon used to manufacture these chemicals and transport it to point of sale.
I know many people with multiple chemical sensitivity. I can only see this becoming more prevalent as we add more chemicals to our world and to our homes. What we often fail to see is how huge an impact we can make on our immediate environment, and in the long-term, the world. Every time you use a natural product you are reducing the need for chemicals and reducing the toxicity in our world. Each and every time you leave the supermarket without buying chemicals, you are making a statement to them and helping shape future buying habits. The more organic, natural products we choose, the more supplies stores will ship in for purchase, and the more people who might see them on the shelves and reach for them instead of the chemical cousin.
Whenever we practice a process which benefits people, we normalise it. When your friends and family see you using organic products, it encourages them to choose differently too. You can make a huge impact- not only on your health, but on the health of your family, your friends, your community, the community where these products are manufactured, and the world in general.
“It's no longer a question of staying healthy. It's a question of finding a sickness you like.”
Jackie Mason
The plastic toys made for children are rich with phthalates, known to cause cancer. Many of the sippy cups made for babies are made with plastics which contain Bisphenol A (BPA), another carcinogen. Our mattresses, clothing, carpets, paint and furniture leech toxins into our homes. Even our MDF furniture is releasing formaldehyde into our homes. The little toilet block which smells lovely is horribly toxic and poisoning us every time we use the bathroom. The dishwashing powder is making us ill, the dishwashing liquid is suppressing our immune systems, the pest treatment from 6 months ago is leeching into our organs. Every time we have a shower we are breathing in chloride and fluoride from the steamy water. Our shampoo and conditioner are nothing but lovely smelling chemicals, our soap is the same.
The fruit and vegetables we buy are sprayed with carbendazim and endosulfan- both known to cause infertility, genetic abnormalities, illness and poisoning. The tinned foods available in supermarkets are in cans lined with BPA rich plastics. The plastics our food are packaged in are also often BPA plastic. The cardboard boxes are treated with chemicals to deter pests. Our meats are gassed so they look pinker, or even flushed with ammonia to kill lethal bacteria which are a result of antibiotic use in animals.
From the moment our babies are born, they are exposed to toxins everywhere. If your baby is born at a hospital, in the moments after birth they are exposed to huge amounts of toxins. The gloves on the doctor or midwife's hands are exuding phthalates. The blanket or towel used to rub them down has been chemically treated to remove all bacteria, bodily waste and stains. The stethoscope used to check their heartbeat has been doused with antibacterial chemicals to ensure no cross-contamination. The floor has been mopped with chemicals, the air coming through the cooling system has passed through chemical treatment plants to ensure there is no bacteria. The staff are leaving chemical trails everywhere they go from the detergents they use in their washing machines and the fabric softeners which are designed to make us feel more comfortable. The waterproof mattress is giving off phthalates as you hold your baby close to you, waiting for it to latch on and have its first suckle at your breast- where it will receive an amazing dose of antibodies and the best food available- except your breastmilk contains chemicals too!
More and more people are developing allergies, sensitivities, illnesses. More and more adults are getting repeatedly sick from simple common viruses and developing cancers. More and more children are diagnosed with learning difficulties, Autism Spectrum disorders, suppressed immune systems, the inability to fight off a cold.
Is it a huge leap to consider that perhaps chemicals are negatively impacting on our health so dramatically? The evidence against chemicals is stacking up, and the companies selling them aren't going to withdraw their products or suggest you buy something less toxic. Our governments aren't doing anything about it. Saving energy is a worth-while goal, but nobody has started to take steps to save lives.
So how do you combat it? What difference can you make in your own home, and your own community?
Here are some simple steps to help you change the amount of chemicals in your home:
►Buy organic wherever possible. Some larger chains now sell organic items at prices similar to conventional items, but check they are certified by an organic certification body. Organic food not only means less pesticides going into the bodies in your home, it also reduces the chemicals used to produce your food. Look at farmer's markets and places with large amounts of organic produce so you aren't paying triple for organic items.
►Water filters which remove fluoride and chlorine will help improve your thyroid function and give your body a chance to detox. Fluoride is highly toxic and replaces iodine in the body which has helped create the generation of iodine-deficient people we see now. If you think fluoride is good for your teeth, brush well with a fluoride toothpaste all you like, but spit it out and rinse well. (Looking into the difference between sodium fluoride and calcium fluoride might change your mind on how useful fluoride toothpaste is.)
►buy environmentally friendly, greywater safe, biodegradable detergents for your dishes and clothing. Fabric softeners are highly toxic and release fumes which are carcinogenic. Lavender oil added to the rinse has the same nice smelling effect without the chemicals.
►Don't use soap or body care products on your baby unless it's necessary. Choose organic products with natural ingredients where possible. Baby products are often filled with petrochemicals and phthalates.
Body-care products containing phthalates are a source of exposure for infants. The authors of a 2008 study "observed that reported use of infant lotion, infant powder, and infant shampoo were associated with increased infant urine concentrations of [phthalate metabolites], and this association is strongest in younger infants. These findings suggest that dermal exposures may contribute significantly to phthalate body burden in this population."►choose Sodium Laureth Sulphate free shampoos and conditioners, and look at the ingredients on every soap or wash you buy. If it isn't derived from nature or has a lot of hydroxy-sounding huge names on it, don't buy it. Consider using sodium bicarb to wash your hair and rinse with Apple Cider vinegar
►Save yourself money and use bicarbonate soda and vinegar to clean your home. Add some Lavender and Tea Tree oil on occasion if you like- they are anti-bacterial and anti-fungal and they smell nice too.
►Don't use pesticides or insecticides in your home at all. Fly screens are more effective than fly spray, and those annoying flies that get in are easily dealt with using a rolled up newspaper, or two magazines slapped together.
►Throw out your disinfectants and use tea tree oil instead. Disinfectants kill the tiny germs which we need to help build our immune systems up.
►Air freshers are chemicals which mask odours, are toxic and have been proven to cause respiratory problems in children and adults. Essential oils are a much better option, mixed with water in a spritzer bottle.
►Choose toys made from natural materials for your children where possible. Wooden toys are also wonderful heirloom pieces to pass on to future generations.
►Look for BPA free plastics for cups, plates and bowls for children. Make sure your baby's cups and bottles aren't made from plastic containing Bisphenol A (#3,#6 and #7).
►Check how old the toys in your home are and throw out old toys which are releasing phthalates.
Even just eliminating some chemicals from your home will not only help your family, but it will have a long-term effect on the environment and the waterways. The chemical run-off from your home will be minimised and by using less chemicals you are decreasing the amount of carbon used to manufacture these chemicals and transport it to point of sale.
I know many people with multiple chemical sensitivity. I can only see this becoming more prevalent as we add more chemicals to our world and to our homes. What we often fail to see is how huge an impact we can make on our immediate environment, and in the long-term, the world. Every time you use a natural product you are reducing the need for chemicals and reducing the toxicity in our world. Each and every time you leave the supermarket without buying chemicals, you are making a statement to them and helping shape future buying habits. The more organic, natural products we choose, the more supplies stores will ship in for purchase, and the more people who might see them on the shelves and reach for them instead of the chemical cousin.
Whenever we practice a process which benefits people, we normalise it. When your friends and family see you using organic products, it encourages them to choose differently too. You can make a huge impact- not only on your health, but on the health of your family, your friends, your community, the community where these products are manufactured, and the world in general.
“Does wisdom perhaps appear on the earth as a raven which is inspired by the smell of carrion?” ~Friedrich Nietzsche
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mothering Yourself On Mother's Day ♥
Today is mother's day, and I am honouring my role as a mother. My children are too small to understand the meaning of today, and thankfully too small to buy into the commercial hype about it as well!
Every Mother's Day I reflect on my own mother and on the way I was mothered. More than ever, since having children this brings up a lot of hurt and sadness.
As a mother, I am as attached as I can be. My children are at the forefront of my mind all of the time. I research deeply to ensure that the choices I make are based on not only my instinct, but also on what is shown- and known- to be best for my children so they grow into healthy adults. Despite being overwhelmed, frustrated, isolated or snowed under, I do my best to ensure my children know I am present for them every moment that I can be, and I try to enjoy the moments of calm which happen miraculously every once in a blue moon. My children were only cared by myself (and occasionally their father) for the first 3 years of their life- the exception being that my 3.5 year old son recently started kindergarten (and I have to explain that as someone who is planning to homeschool, this might seem at odds with my philosophy, however to support us I have to work a few days a week and one of those days I cannot bring him with me.). I co-sleep, extended breastfeed, babywear and attend to my children's needs instead of leaving them to cry. My children are still small, and they need me right now. Children need us more intensely for the their first 5 years of life than they will ever need us.
My mother is a stark contrast to myself, which is something I have thought long and hard about. Did I become an attachment parent in response to her detachment? Or am I a maternal person compared to her lack of emotion simply because we are different people? Is she a byproduct of a detached childhood herself, and if so- what is her excuse for not evolving, not resolving to make her children's lives happier than her own childhood?
I was raised by strangers in childcare centres, palmed off to babysitters, handed over at every possible moment. My mother didn't want to mother us so she hid behind the values of 'Feminism'- which has nothing to do with actual feminism but was a twisted perception to excuse her choices. (I am a feminist myself, so I now know how backward her apporach is!) We were in childcare because real feminists worked fulltime AND had a family. She had to go back to work because women need to show they are equal to men. Every excuse was used. But the truth boils down to this- my mother didn't want to be at home with us as babies. Nor as children. She didn't want to mother us. She found us boring and a waste of her time. Which might have just been a fact for her, but it was a rejection to me, and an invalidation of my needs.
As an adult, my relationship with my mother is strained and based on nothing more than family. I am not bonded to my mother, nor do I feel a deep attachment to her. I never have. I feel nostalgic and emotional when I smell her perfume- I think this is the closest I ever got to getting a scent imprint of my mother that I could attach to. We discuss my children and I am jealous because my mother is more affectionate, more loving, more caring when it comes to her grandchildren. I understand this, because she isn't as emotionally invested and she doesn't have to live with them full time. But it still hurts to see my children receive love from her and feel a hurt in a far-away place where a wound was created by the absence of her love.
So today, on Mother's Day, I do not ring my mother- instead, my father rings me to prompt me to ring her. She is hurt that nobody has called her. And usually I do. But today, I don't think I will ring my mother. Every time I ring her for mother's day, I allow her to ignore the hurt she caused by not mothering my sisters and I. Every time I ring her for mother's day, I am allowing her to continue pretending that I think that "You were/are a great mum." Yet she was not. Is not. I do not want to hurt her, but I don't want to hurt myself by ignoring my experiences.
My mother knows I am a single parent with two small children, yet she is hurt when her adult children don't honour her mother status. She didn't even consider that there was nobody honouring my motherhood, that she could take a step and ring me to wish me a happy mother's day. My father honours my mother for bringing his children into the world- he has since the day she gave birth to my older sister and he has continued to do so- daily- for the 30+ years which have passed since. Yet she needs us to validate this, on a day which is nothing but a commercial opportunity to sell cards and flowers and chocolates. I am supposed to validate someone for being a mother lacking in so many areas simply because Hallmark decided today was a good day for it?
Today, I am wishing myself mother's day. I made myself a beautiful breakfast and wrapped my hands around a warm cup of licorice tea. My children are with their father today as Sunday is the day he has them, and he has not wished me a happy mother's day, nor has he ever honoured my role as a mother. He was unaware it was mother's day so he did not plan to take the children on a different day. I wouldn't expect consiousness, though, so I am not disappointed!
So I am honouring my motherhood. I am remembering the beauty inherent in me as a mother. I am looking at photographs of my belly growing ripe with my son, giving respect to the journey that motherhood has taken me on, giving thanks to myself for doing everything within my power to be a wonderful mother. I had an awful role model and yet I have managed to develop into a loving, caring, passionate mother who isn't afraid to hold her children close to her heart.
I am going to watch a movie, read a book, eat some soup and enjoy my day. I am going to give thanks to my wobbly tummy for helping cradle two small people as they grew strong enough for this world. I am going to watch my birth dvd's and remember the moment when I first touched my children. I am going to pat my own back and sing my own praises, and I am going to continue to be the best mother I can.
Because sometimes, the best mother we can ever have is our self.
Every Mother's Day I reflect on my own mother and on the way I was mothered. More than ever, since having children this brings up a lot of hurt and sadness.
As a mother, I am as attached as I can be. My children are at the forefront of my mind all of the time. I research deeply to ensure that the choices I make are based on not only my instinct, but also on what is shown- and known- to be best for my children so they grow into healthy adults. Despite being overwhelmed, frustrated, isolated or snowed under, I do my best to ensure my children know I am present for them every moment that I can be, and I try to enjoy the moments of calm which happen miraculously every once in a blue moon. My children were only cared by myself (and occasionally their father) for the first 3 years of their life- the exception being that my 3.5 year old son recently started kindergarten (and I have to explain that as someone who is planning to homeschool, this might seem at odds with my philosophy, however to support us I have to work a few days a week and one of those days I cannot bring him with me.). I co-sleep, extended breastfeed, babywear and attend to my children's needs instead of leaving them to cry. My children are still small, and they need me right now. Children need us more intensely for the their first 5 years of life than they will ever need us.
My mother is a stark contrast to myself, which is something I have thought long and hard about. Did I become an attachment parent in response to her detachment? Or am I a maternal person compared to her lack of emotion simply because we are different people? Is she a byproduct of a detached childhood herself, and if so- what is her excuse for not evolving, not resolving to make her children's lives happier than her own childhood?
I was raised by strangers in childcare centres, palmed off to babysitters, handed over at every possible moment. My mother didn't want to mother us so she hid behind the values of 'Feminism'- which has nothing to do with actual feminism but was a twisted perception to excuse her choices. (I am a feminist myself, so I now know how backward her apporach is!) We were in childcare because real feminists worked fulltime AND had a family. She had to go back to work because women need to show they are equal to men. Every excuse was used. But the truth boils down to this- my mother didn't want to be at home with us as babies. Nor as children. She didn't want to mother us. She found us boring and a waste of her time. Which might have just been a fact for her, but it was a rejection to me, and an invalidation of my needs.
As an adult, my relationship with my mother is strained and based on nothing more than family. I am not bonded to my mother, nor do I feel a deep attachment to her. I never have. I feel nostalgic and emotional when I smell her perfume- I think this is the closest I ever got to getting a scent imprint of my mother that I could attach to. We discuss my children and I am jealous because my mother is more affectionate, more loving, more caring when it comes to her grandchildren. I understand this, because she isn't as emotionally invested and she doesn't have to live with them full time. But it still hurts to see my children receive love from her and feel a hurt in a far-away place where a wound was created by the absence of her love.
So today, on Mother's Day, I do not ring my mother- instead, my father rings me to prompt me to ring her. She is hurt that nobody has called her. And usually I do. But today, I don't think I will ring my mother. Every time I ring her for mother's day, I allow her to ignore the hurt she caused by not mothering my sisters and I. Every time I ring her for mother's day, I am allowing her to continue pretending that I think that "You were/are a great mum." Yet she was not. Is not. I do not want to hurt her, but I don't want to hurt myself by ignoring my experiences.
My mother knows I am a single parent with two small children, yet she is hurt when her adult children don't honour her mother status. She didn't even consider that there was nobody honouring my motherhood, that she could take a step and ring me to wish me a happy mother's day. My father honours my mother for bringing his children into the world- he has since the day she gave birth to my older sister and he has continued to do so- daily- for the 30+ years which have passed since. Yet she needs us to validate this, on a day which is nothing but a commercial opportunity to sell cards and flowers and chocolates. I am supposed to validate someone for being a mother lacking in so many areas simply because Hallmark decided today was a good day for it?
Today, I am wishing myself mother's day. I made myself a beautiful breakfast and wrapped my hands around a warm cup of licorice tea. My children are with their father today as Sunday is the day he has them, and he has not wished me a happy mother's day, nor has he ever honoured my role as a mother. He was unaware it was mother's day so he did not plan to take the children on a different day. I wouldn't expect consiousness, though, so I am not disappointed!
So I am honouring my motherhood. I am remembering the beauty inherent in me as a mother. I am looking at photographs of my belly growing ripe with my son, giving respect to the journey that motherhood has taken me on, giving thanks to myself for doing everything within my power to be a wonderful mother. I had an awful role model and yet I have managed to develop into a loving, caring, passionate mother who isn't afraid to hold her children close to her heart.
I am going to watch a movie, read a book, eat some soup and enjoy my day. I am going to give thanks to my wobbly tummy for helping cradle two small people as they grew strong enough for this world. I am going to watch my birth dvd's and remember the moment when I first touched my children. I am going to pat my own back and sing my own praises, and I am going to continue to be the best mother I can.
Because sometimes, the best mother we can ever have is our self.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Guest Blog: Parenting without vaccines
Before becoming a parent I trained as a nurse and practised for some time, mainly in the mental health field; I loved my job but the politics were getting to me. It felt very strange administering drugs, then going home and using homeopathy! I have a disease called Perthes in my hip- this means essentially my hip is undeveloped and can cause me a great deal of pain- I've always been medicated in one way or another and I've always felt a resistance to it. When I was in my teens I started to look at other ways of managing health and I was convinced there just HAD to be another way to get through my life without codeine rotting my organs! I found a holistic practioner who was happy to realign my spine and pelvis (as I walk with a very slight limp which gets pronounced when I'm tired). My parents were convinced I was bonkers for a while; they let me try alternative therapies but were soon tired when I wasn't conforming to their idea of treatment, despite the obvious fact I was happy doing better and not half high on vast amounts of painkillers. I was very worried that by the time I was 30 my liver would pack up- never mind the fact that I was already taking massive doses at just 16.
My consultant was amazingly receptive as Perthes is not a common disease- his sole request was that I go in to be monitored for ways to help others too; he was brilliant and pointing me towards NHS services that are so called unconventional. At nearly 30 it's stabilised and I don't use any drugs and haven't for years.
When I left home at 17 I started to flower within myself; for so long my personal philosophies were suppressed and as time went on I found it really hard to nurse and be myself.
At just 19 I found out I was pregnant with my daughter- sadly things didn't work out with her father and we parted. Frightened and very depressed, I found the whole thing very hard to manage; the fear from the midwives that I'd not be able to carry to term because of the hip issue, the agonising pain as I progressed through my pregnancy, soon I was swamped with "help" and once again my notions were dismissed as madness.
They intially wanted to do a planned cesarean section as they just weren't sure how my pelvis would expand- if at all! I found an advocate to at least let my pregnancy go on and plan closer to the time of birth, I really was so sure I wanted to deliver vaginally. Three weeks before my due date my labour started. I was at home alone and very very frightened of all the tales about how it "had been the worst pain of your life/ the most horrendous day/episiotomies/tears/botched/forceps/placenta left in".... No-one had a good word to say about giving birth, I had planned to just let things roll and take on one pain relief option bit by bit- I had a TENS machine but within a few hours I had rung an ambulance- my contractions were on top of another. My daughter arrived on the sofa with just gas and air and I felt joy! It did hurt, I did tear a tiny bit- but it wasn't what they all said... I felt like a goddess!! We went to hospital and later discharged and I started to re evaluate my thoughts- what else were they wrong about?
I started to breastfeed but the help was poor; my mum truly finds it sexual and spent a LOT of time telling me not to do that in front of my father... My sister had never even considered there was another way to feed other than a bottle and so I had no support beyond a few weeks- soon my confidence slipped when she ws feeding lots; I thought I wasn't making enough- and then the nagging started that I wasn't being fair and I was being a martyr so the formula came out. I was feeding her in secret at night when no one knew. I didn't even tell the health visitor - I don't know why but I started to believe I was wrong, the saddest part is that if I'd have said something I would have known she was a HUGE advocate for breastfeeding but didn't need me to feel bad for my choice as she could see I was already teetering.
Then the vaccination schedule started- I didn't feel quite right.
I allowed oral Polio and then was persuaded to give the diptheria. This was at the time of the MMR debate and I had started back to work so I was privvy to how scared the NHS was; this made me question why they were so frightened if it was so safe. I started to look into it all and decided to hold off,she'd been SO ill with a tummy bug after the last vaccine I didn't want to carry on she has always been a tiny thing and couldn't afford to lose an ounce. Dr was not happy and voiced it to me but was open as well. We agreed to postpone. Indefinitely.
I never really said much to my parents knowing I'd be ridiculed, by now we were all but strangers.
Her dad and I had worked it out enough that we were on friendly terms and he still sees her often.
Time went on and my health visitor retired to be replaced by a lady that was pretty convinced I was a terrible mother and made it very clear. I did start to question myself,but by now my daughter was 3- a happy bright little thing had never been ill - the odd sore throat or a cough & cold type thing. That was enough for me. We moved house some 100 miles when she was 4- a new start, a new life. I'd had a late miscarriage and I needed to be away from everything, have some time out and move on.
Soon after we moved, my daughter caught chickenpox after going to a baptism. It was mild and a few days later she was right as rain! In 2008 my son was born at home. The midwife was great. He didn't even consider that I'd not breastfeed. As my son latched on for his first feed the midwife smiled at me and said "That is the best gift you can ever give your son." Family life settled in; Mark has always been very supportive of my choices and desires, simply making sure that everything else is done so I can just sit and feed. This time I was proud to shout out YES I'm breastfeeding- I don't speak to my family anymore. I just stopped calling, and so did they. I do often wonder what they'd make of my life!
I've had a few bad days where I'm knackered - I work as well by choice and necessity but I can look at my boy and know I am doing the VERY best by him. The health visitor popped by when he was 2 weeks old as is standard here; sadly I was hoping for 'wow, well done' and I got lots of 'how I could have more sleep and how selfish it is when dad can't feed' - I asked her to leave and not return.
Daniel has only been ill once- possible Rotavirus (he just breastfed lots, was sick when he needed to be sick, and I just worked with it- within a week he was back to normal.) I had shingles a little while back I was a bit worried as I was in my first trimester, but all was well. Daniel caught chicken pox from me - so mildly I only saw a spot in the sun! All he needed was some extra breastmilk and he was fine.(In the UK we don't vaccinate for chickenpox nor Rotavirus. ) Both children have been fit & healthy; both children go to groups and activities an awful lot and have never caught anything.
I don't really have a lot of friends; I find it quite hard to mix with people. I do genuinely enjoy my own company.
My girlie has 100% attendance record for school which she's very proud of and itching for a certificate!
I asked the midwife that attended Daniel's birth to be my midwife for this pregnancy as well he's quite happy to let me call the shots. He's never tried to persuade me to do anything and truly believes that we all have the right to informed choices. He was overjoyed when I said I was still feeding Daniel!
Overall I guess I've been quite lucky- I've met some resistance but not much.
Monday, April 5, 2010
On being a wetnurse.....
I've always been in childcare, from my beginnings as a babysitter in my early teens until now. I have always loved children- loved their innocence, loved their simplicity, loved their exuberance and acceptance and fearlessness.I had read about women who breastfed other babies- I always considered it sort of peculiar. It made sense, but surely formula is just as good, right? Wrong.
When I became a mother, I continued to work privately, looking after children in their own homes. I couldn't tolerate the factory-style care in child care centres, where basic needs were met but there was little time for nurture, love, care or individuality. I loved forming a bond with the children I cared for, and this is difficult to do when you have 4 children under 18 months in your care, which is common in child care.
After my son was born, I continued to work, but I did not wet nurse. It was never something which entered my consciousness- why would I physically breastfeed someone else's child? I had a huge supply though, and after my daughter was born and I tandem fed my children, I realised I was capable of producing a lot more milk than most women. I sprayed milk everywhere whenever let down happened. I soaked through towels every night. I could hold a cup over my nipple while feeding only one babe, and I could easy catch 250ml pouring out. Forget breastpads, I soaked a hand towel on a regular basis.
When my freezer filled up with milk, I realised I should donate breastmilk or it would be going to waste (I went and had blood tests and got a clean bill of health first). So I gave it away whenever I could to the people around me who needed it. I donated to a woman interstate who had hypoplastic breasts. I donated when a woman I know was admitted to hospital suddenly and they could not admit her 3 months old baby- she was so dehydrated she was unable to make enough either. I donated to a friend in anticipation of her premature baby being born 8 weeks early so her premmie didn't have to be exposed to formula in NICU. I donated to a woman I didn't know a few suburbs away who has a tiny supply- she has since become my friend. I was in awe of my breasts- these amazing mammaries which could feed more than just my babies.
The first baby I wetnursed was the child I was donating to a few suburbs away; she came to collect the litres of milk I had stored for her, and he was hungry. She asked if I would feed him instead of using some of the frozen milk- so I did. It wasn't strange- it felt really normal, really natural. It felt right. I was starting to see just how beneficial this would be, and wondering why more women didn't do it. So many women are using formula to complement their baby's breastmilk- why not use donated breastmilk, or have another woman cross-nurse your baby?
I started work with a new family one day a week, and the mother was the first to broach the subject. I hadn't considered it before this- I had felt the urge, the instinct, to open my top when holding a crying baby, but I had never been asked to breastfeed someone else's baby directly. She was very casual about it, and I agreed. I began offering it to him in the middle of the day before his sleep, but he refused. One day he was upset, so I put him in a Mei Tai and he snuggled up to my chest. After a few minutes, he licked my cleavage. I whipped out my breast and left it there for him to access, and after a few minutes he latched on and drank deeply, falling asleep in minutes. Success! The next few times he smiled at my breast for a while first, as if discerning the friendliness of my nipple, before latching on and heartily drinking. Before long, he was actively asking for a breastfeed, coming up to my shyly and gently pulling on the neckline of my top. Whenever my daughter was breastfeeeding, so was he- soon he was having 3 breastfeeds a day.It felt lovely to be able to give this little person the perfect milk for him. (That is the prince himself, shown at right.)I have now started wetnursing with a new family who have a 6 month old baby. I was hired because of my babywearing experience, childcare experience and attachment parenting ideas. The mother had never considered I would wetnurse her baby, but when she spoke to my reference (who is the same woman who encouraged me to wetnurse), she told her about the breastfeeding relationship I have with her child. She was quite shocked- wetnursing is now something alien to our society, whereas 100 years ago it was common practice. When I attended my interview, she discussed it with me. At first, she said she was quite 'weirded out' by the idea of me breastfeeding another person's child. It is a challenging thing to wrap your mind around in our homogenised society. She thought wetnursing was a bit strange. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. If her baby was distressed, I could comfort him in a way that holding and rocking never could. Expressing enough wasn't as much of an issue. If he wanted more milk than she had left, he has a fresh supply. Just because his mother had to return to work doesn't mean he misses out on breastfeeding while she is gone. Her comfort zone was challenged, her preconceived ideas about what was normal were questioned, and she came out the other side with a totally different view.
Society used to condone wetnursing- it was used in the case of ill women, mothers who died in childbirth, women without supply, the rich, the poor and everyone in between. Sisters, mothers, aunts, even grandmothers breastfed babies who needed to be fed. In ancient cultures, it was common to breastfeed any child you knew who needed to be fed. In indigenous tribes babies are fed by the village- not only does this help share the burden of childrearing, but it also gives children access to more antibodies than their mothers could ever provide alone. Yet our society has become one of people being afraid of others, of disconnection, of isolation. Our world is becoming more detached- we are encouraged to move our babies away from us, give our babies alternatives to nature, feed our children genetically modified foods and clean our houses with toxic chemicals. Our society is moving further and further away from being human, from connecting with nature and each other.All children should be breastfed for a minimum of 2 years. When you look at the suggestions from the World Health organisation, you see that even they recommend wetnurses.
Yet we live in a society where women would rather buy modified, sugared, powdered cow's milk to feed their babies because they simply don't consider there might be women out there opening their arms and their nursing bras to babies who need to be away from their mothers or who are born to mothers who cannot breastfeed. Women would rather feed their babies modified inferior milk from an unhappy, antibiotic-tainted cow than put out the call for breastmilk donors or a wet nurse. It isn't even considered an option. Other people's breastmilk is considered strange, gross, a bodily fluid. Our breastmilk is fine, but other people's breastmilk is just too foreign for many women to even consider. Why is this so? If a woman has had testing done, and eats a healthy diet, why wouldn't you choose her milk over that of a cow? With everything we know about how superior breastmilk is to any alternatives, why are so many women still turning to formula?"For those few health situations where infants cannot, or should not, be breastfed, the choice of the best alternative – expressed breast milk from an infant’s own mother, breast milk from a healthy wet-nurse or a human-milk bank, or a breast-milk substitute fed with a cup, which is a safer method than a feeding bottle and teat – depends on individual circumstances." (W.H.O, http://whqlibdoc.who.int/publications/2003/9241562218.pdf)
When I look at these two options if I can't breastfeed my child, I know which one I would choose.
If you have cross-nursed or wetnursed a baby, please feel free to share your story.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Surviving my childhood
I'm a survivor, but I'm not a person from a reality television show. I'm not from Destiny's Child, shaking my booty and watching the money roll in. I'm a woman, a mother, a daughter, a cousin, a niece, a granddaughter, and a survivor of childhood abuse.
I come from a middle class family. My sisters and I were raised by babysitters, childcare workers and then a nanny while my parents earned enough money to pay for a comfortable life for us all. My parents thought that paying someone else to raise us while they worked for 10 times that amount was worth it for the future of our family. It wasn't.
I was sexually, physically and emotionally abused. I was abused from when I was 5½ until when I was 10½ years old. I was abused by a woman, her husband and her brother. These people were supposed to care for my sisters and I. They were entrusted with our wellbeing, and instead they crushed our spirits.
Abuse damages people immensely irrespective of when it happens, how it happens, or how old you were when it happens. It has resounding affect on who you are. It changes you in ways you still won't realise for many years. The lasting effects of abuse are even more painful because there is often no physical scars to show the damage that has occurred; there is no exterior sign to show people you are fragile and need help.
The people who abused me were sadistic pedophiles with no compassion. They were also Jehovah's Witnesses with a religious exterior and an involvement in their community. She was a childcarer, her husband was a bartender, her brother was a doctor. They presented an immaculate façade. They contorted my life so extremely that I do not remember vast periods of my life right up until my late teens when I sought psychological help.
I was raped, drugged, held underwater, suffocated, locked in rooms, starved, beaten, made to eat feces and drink urine. I was forced to perform sexual acts on all three of them. I was tied up and I was put in car boots while they shopped or went to (her husband's) bar to get my baby sister drunk. My sisters suffered different abuse; they were abused emotionally and physically. I was at an age when they could groom me and then abuse me horrifically, so they did. When they met me, I was also a child used to being ignored, a child used to being shunted, a child who did not have a strong attachment to anyone. This makes it easier to abuse a child, and I was a prime candidate because my parents were so disconnected.
I thought this was all normal. I thought everyone had someone who played heavy metal music at maximum volume while they raped you on a towel. I thought everyone had to keep secrets from other adults or else you would be killed.
I went to friend's houses and it was normal there too; one friend's dad had a tattoo on his penis which he liked to show us and ask us to touch it. Her 5 brothers all did the same. Another friend's grandfather would ask us to sit on his lap and he would fondle us and then digitally rape us as he read to us. This was life. I would have swapped their lives for mine, though- it seemed they had it easier.
As a teenager I was a self-mutilator, writing dark poetry and smearing it with my own blood. I became bulimic and then vacillated between anorexia and bulimia. I attempted suicide and I tried any drugs I could. I slept with anyone who looked at me, starting when I was 13. I got drunk as often as possible and I was raped at parties when I was too drunk to fight back. I teetered on the edge for so many years that it was normal for me. I felt dead inside and I thought it was normal. I slept with men older than my father with little understanding of the way I was continuing the abuse. In my last year of school, I lived on the couches of other people, in the apartments of men I had just met, and for a few days in the back of a ute when I had nowhere else to go. I was adrift and I did not know how to anchor myself. It seemed I had always been adrift.
I am still recognising the way the abuse I endured has affected my life in ways I never considered.
I underwent intensive psychotherapy, using so much of my weekly salary as a waitress that I barely had enough for rent. I would rather go without food than go without my psychologist. She was the one person who helped me understand myself, understand what had happened, process the years of hurt. Without her, I would not have made it to 20. But I did. I struggled through, trying to make sense of it all, trying to find a reason to live. I attempted suicide one more time when I was 22, sick of the suicidal thoughts and the bleakness of my life. I decided that if I managed to live, then I would throw myself into trying to live. My older sister saved me, finding me on the edge of a creek on the edge of unconsciousness and racing me to hospital. I survived. Just as I have been surviving for almost my whole life.
I don't expect a medal, or pity, or even understanding. I don't make excuses for myself because I was abused, nor do I allow myself to be a victim. I made a choice- I decided that I was going to make a difference. I was abused, but that did not make me who I am today. It is a part of me, and it always will be, but it is no longer how I frame myself.
I parent my children with love and attachment. I make sure they feel safe and secure so that when they are older, if anyone approaches them or tries to abuse them then they know that it is wrong, know they should scream, know that it is wrong, know they can come to me. I am present in my children's lives. I do not let strangers look after my children, I do not leave my children with anyone I do not know, I am hyper-vigilant. I cannot imagine leaving my children to be raised by others at all- let alone from when they are small. My children know they are loved. My children will not be raised by other people because they have a mother, and no money is worth missing my children's childhoods. I will not make the same mistakes my parents made, trading money for our childhoods.
Today, everywhere I go I meet other women and men who have been abused. Often, survivors tend to gravitate towards each other. It saddens me to think of the vast number of people I know who have been abused as children. Yet, the majority of survivors I know are strong people who have overcome adversity. They are amazing people who have hurt in their hearts but love in their eyes. They try to help others because they were never helped. I hope I do the same.
Today, my parents still refuse to acknowledge that abuse we all suffered. I am manifesting these memories, recreating my childhood, fabricating these ideas. They are terrified of facing the harsh reality of their mistakes. So I am the one who has to validate myself, I am the one who has to be strong enough to stand up and say this: I was abused, I was hurt, and it was wrong. No child should have to suffer, no child should be abused. And yet I did, but I survived. It would have been nicer to have experienced my childhood rather than simply survived it, but you cannot undo what is done. All you can hope to do is heal the wounds until they no longer hurt.
If you suspect someone is being abused, whether they are an adult or a child, please report it. You could be making a world of difference.
Here are some links for those who need some guidance:
http://www.cyh.com/HealthTopics/HealthTopicDetails.aspx?p=243&np=293&id=2358
http://www.nswrapecrisis.com.au/Information%20Sheets/Survivors%20of%20Child%20Sexual%20Assault.htm
http://www.secasa.com.au/index.php/workers/50/133
http://www.secasakids.com.au/
http://www.laurelhouse.org.au/asp/content.asp?articleID=516
I have a few great books on processing and healing the effects of childhood sexual abuse; for those who would like to borrow them please feel free to email me at motheringearth@peacemail.com
I come from a middle class family. My sisters and I were raised by babysitters, childcare workers and then a nanny while my parents earned enough money to pay for a comfortable life for us all. My parents thought that paying someone else to raise us while they worked for 10 times that amount was worth it for the future of our family. It wasn't.
I was sexually, physically and emotionally abused. I was abused from when I was 5½ until when I was 10½ years old. I was abused by a woman, her husband and her brother. These people were supposed to care for my sisters and I. They were entrusted with our wellbeing, and instead they crushed our spirits.
Abuse damages people immensely irrespective of when it happens, how it happens, or how old you were when it happens. It has resounding affect on who you are. It changes you in ways you still won't realise for many years. The lasting effects of abuse are even more painful because there is often no physical scars to show the damage that has occurred; there is no exterior sign to show people you are fragile and need help.
The people who abused me were sadistic pedophiles with no compassion. They were also Jehovah's Witnesses with a religious exterior and an involvement in their community. She was a childcarer, her husband was a bartender, her brother was a doctor. They presented an immaculate façade. They contorted my life so extremely that I do not remember vast periods of my life right up until my late teens when I sought psychological help.
I was raped, drugged, held underwater, suffocated, locked in rooms, starved, beaten, made to eat feces and drink urine. I was forced to perform sexual acts on all three of them. I was tied up and I was put in car boots while they shopped or went to (her husband's) bar to get my baby sister drunk. My sisters suffered different abuse; they were abused emotionally and physically. I was at an age when they could groom me and then abuse me horrifically, so they did. When they met me, I was also a child used to being ignored, a child used to being shunted, a child who did not have a strong attachment to anyone. This makes it easier to abuse a child, and I was a prime candidate because my parents were so disconnected.
I thought this was all normal. I thought everyone had someone who played heavy metal music at maximum volume while they raped you on a towel. I thought everyone had to keep secrets from other adults or else you would be killed.
I went to friend's houses and it was normal there too; one friend's dad had a tattoo on his penis which he liked to show us and ask us to touch it. Her 5 brothers all did the same. Another friend's grandfather would ask us to sit on his lap and he would fondle us and then digitally rape us as he read to us. This was life. I would have swapped their lives for mine, though- it seemed they had it easier.
As a teenager I was a self-mutilator, writing dark poetry and smearing it with my own blood. I became bulimic and then vacillated between anorexia and bulimia. I attempted suicide and I tried any drugs I could. I slept with anyone who looked at me, starting when I was 13. I got drunk as often as possible and I was raped at parties when I was too drunk to fight back. I teetered on the edge for so many years that it was normal for me. I felt dead inside and I thought it was normal. I slept with men older than my father with little understanding of the way I was continuing the abuse. In my last year of school, I lived on the couches of other people, in the apartments of men I had just met, and for a few days in the back of a ute when I had nowhere else to go. I was adrift and I did not know how to anchor myself. It seemed I had always been adrift.
I am still recognising the way the abuse I endured has affected my life in ways I never considered.
I underwent intensive psychotherapy, using so much of my weekly salary as a waitress that I barely had enough for rent. I would rather go without food than go without my psychologist. She was the one person who helped me understand myself, understand what had happened, process the years of hurt. Without her, I would not have made it to 20. But I did. I struggled through, trying to make sense of it all, trying to find a reason to live. I attempted suicide one more time when I was 22, sick of the suicidal thoughts and the bleakness of my life. I decided that if I managed to live, then I would throw myself into trying to live. My older sister saved me, finding me on the edge of a creek on the edge of unconsciousness and racing me to hospital. I survived. Just as I have been surviving for almost my whole life.
I don't expect a medal, or pity, or even understanding. I don't make excuses for myself because I was abused, nor do I allow myself to be a victim. I made a choice- I decided that I was going to make a difference. I was abused, but that did not make me who I am today. It is a part of me, and it always will be, but it is no longer how I frame myself.
I parent my children with love and attachment. I make sure they feel safe and secure so that when they are older, if anyone approaches them or tries to abuse them then they know that it is wrong, know they should scream, know that it is wrong, know they can come to me. I am present in my children's lives. I do not let strangers look after my children, I do not leave my children with anyone I do not know, I am hyper-vigilant. I cannot imagine leaving my children to be raised by others at all- let alone from when they are small. My children know they are loved. My children will not be raised by other people because they have a mother, and no money is worth missing my children's childhoods. I will not make the same mistakes my parents made, trading money for our childhoods.
Today, everywhere I go I meet other women and men who have been abused. Often, survivors tend to gravitate towards each other. It saddens me to think of the vast number of people I know who have been abused as children. Yet, the majority of survivors I know are strong people who have overcome adversity. They are amazing people who have hurt in their hearts but love in their eyes. They try to help others because they were never helped. I hope I do the same.
Today, my parents still refuse to acknowledge that abuse we all suffered. I am manifesting these memories, recreating my childhood, fabricating these ideas. They are terrified of facing the harsh reality of their mistakes. So I am the one who has to validate myself, I am the one who has to be strong enough to stand up and say this: I was abused, I was hurt, and it was wrong. No child should have to suffer, no child should be abused. And yet I did, but I survived. It would have been nicer to have experienced my childhood rather than simply survived it, but you cannot undo what is done. All you can hope to do is heal the wounds until they no longer hurt.
If you suspect someone is being abused, whether they are an adult or a child, please report it. You could be making a world of difference.
Here are some links for those who need some guidance:
http://www.cyh.com/HealthTopics/HealthTopicDetails.aspx?p=243&np=293&id=2358
http://www.nswrapecrisis.com.au/Information%20Sheets/Survivors%20of%20Child%20Sexual%20Assault.htm
http://www.secasa.com.au/index.php/workers/50/133
http://www.secasakids.com.au/
http://www.laurelhouse.org.au/asp/content.asp?articleID=516
I have a few great books on processing and healing the effects of childhood sexual abuse; for those who would like to borrow them please feel free to email me at motheringearth@peacemail.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)