Every once in a while, Rose turns to me when I should be focussing on Leo and giving her a break rather than doing something lazy, and says "I don't think you have any idea what it's like." And it's true! I have no fucking clue!
A couple of days ago, coming back from work, I gave Rose a break by replacing her in bed while Leo was napping. I was tired and slept for about an hour. I was then *rudely* woken up by this baby who became increasingly agitated. Boy, was I ever out of it! As it is, I when I am awakened suddenly I am immediately struck by existential anxiety and disorientation and now I had to also soothe this baby. This was only a glimpse of what Rose goes through every single day. And so I take a minute and admit that I have no idea what it's like. And I say to Rose, you're amazing!
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Vaccination
Leo is now closing on three months and I can't transmit, in person or in writing, the intense emotions that I experience when I am with him. More than anything, I want to protect him. And how else do we protect our children from the messy world of germs, bacteria, dirty communal toys, and dirty public library books, and dirty people on the bus, other than vaccinate them?
"Did you know? The word 'immunization' comes from the world 'immune' -- which means protection from disease." Source: Public Health Agency of Canada, A Parent's Guide to Immunization (2009).
This is the kind of simplistic literature that I'm against when trying to make an intelligent decision about vaccinating my son. This little pamphlet (we somehow ended up with a published version) is inexcusable. But even a serious publication such as Your Child's Best Shot published by the Canadian Pediatric Society, in which vaccines are discussed scientifically, is so one-sided that it contains juvenile colour drawings bearing pro-vaccine messages done by children from across the country. Is it a wonder that on encoutering this stuff intelligent, skeptical people will become instant critics?
On the other hand, consider what the medical community is up against: vaccine skeptics who believe all sorts of unscientific nonesense about vaccines. Statistically, vaccines are effective and the side-effects rare. We also have an ethical duty to vaccinate our children. It's a kind of a free-loader argument. Your child will be safe only if everyone else takes on the risk of vaccinating their children. Vaccinating your children is both the rational and responsible thing to do. So what is there to be afraid of?
First, consider the interested parties: pharmaceutical companies are very high on the list. And, as Dr. Sears tells us in one of the saner books about vaccines: The Vaccine Book (look, I just found a critique of one of its most popular components, the alternative schedule) most doctors are not trained specifically in the area of vaccines. Some vaccines also have a poor history. They used to contain more mercury. Some of them still contain trace amounts. Some vaccines also contain aluminum. Today's science, of course, is always the best until tomorrow's science comes along and what we know and do today is exposed to be grossly unsafe and stupid.
And the saddest part about vaccines is the near certainty that your baby will cry for a few or many hours. How sad is that? I consider myself to be a rational person and yet I find myself giving in to this emotional consideration. What's a bit of crying compared to the risks of a serious illness? Rose's father, a physician, made this point: with a million Leos, the choice is easy; but when you have to choose for one Leo, it isn't so easy any more. His advice: vaccinate him because of the potential guilt I'd face if Leo is infected with a preventable disease later on against which he could have been vaccinated.
Here's an even sadder part. The world is a bad place with bad people and bad germs. And my baby boy is surrounded by loving parents and sheltered from this bad world (with the exception of his bus rides with mommy). I want to keep him sheltered from it but I can't. Now that he is the world, he is as much a part of it as any of us. Yes, one day my son will cry out of pain and frustration, but does he have to be three months old? And do I have to be the one to make a choice that will make him cry so?
"Did you know? The word 'immunization' comes from the world 'immune' -- which means protection from disease." Source: Public Health Agency of Canada, A Parent's Guide to Immunization (2009).
This is the kind of simplistic literature that I'm against when trying to make an intelligent decision about vaccinating my son. This little pamphlet (we somehow ended up with a published version) is inexcusable. But even a serious publication such as Your Child's Best Shot published by the Canadian Pediatric Society, in which vaccines are discussed scientifically, is so one-sided that it contains juvenile colour drawings bearing pro-vaccine messages done by children from across the country. Is it a wonder that on encoutering this stuff intelligent, skeptical people will become instant critics?
On the other hand, consider what the medical community is up against: vaccine skeptics who believe all sorts of unscientific nonesense about vaccines. Statistically, vaccines are effective and the side-effects rare. We also have an ethical duty to vaccinate our children. It's a kind of a free-loader argument. Your child will be safe only if everyone else takes on the risk of vaccinating their children. Vaccinating your children is both the rational and responsible thing to do. So what is there to be afraid of?
First, consider the interested parties: pharmaceutical companies are very high on the list. And, as Dr. Sears tells us in one of the saner books about vaccines: The Vaccine Book (look, I just found a critique of one of its most popular components, the alternative schedule) most doctors are not trained specifically in the area of vaccines. Some vaccines also have a poor history. They used to contain more mercury. Some of them still contain trace amounts. Some vaccines also contain aluminum. Today's science, of course, is always the best until tomorrow's science comes along and what we know and do today is exposed to be grossly unsafe and stupid.
And the saddest part about vaccines is the near certainty that your baby will cry for a few or many hours. How sad is that? I consider myself to be a rational person and yet I find myself giving in to this emotional consideration. What's a bit of crying compared to the risks of a serious illness? Rose's father, a physician, made this point: with a million Leos, the choice is easy; but when you have to choose for one Leo, it isn't so easy any more. His advice: vaccinate him because of the potential guilt I'd face if Leo is infected with a preventable disease later on against which he could have been vaccinated.
Here's an even sadder part. The world is a bad place with bad people and bad germs. And my baby boy is surrounded by loving parents and sheltered from this bad world (with the exception of his bus rides with mommy). I want to keep him sheltered from it but I can't. Now that he is the world, he is as much a part of it as any of us. Yes, one day my son will cry out of pain and frustration, but does he have to be three months old? And do I have to be the one to make a choice that will make him cry so?
Thursday, July 7, 2011
A state of intense warmth and openness
I'm back at work now, for the past two days. It is a sad state of affairs. Being distant from baby, Rose, and the various chores that I would otherwise be doing at home, I feel like I'm confronting myself again. I suspect that having all of my attention focussed on the baby is not meant to be used as an instrument for escapism, but it has been nice not to have to be preoccupied with my own issues, and work leaves me with a lot of time to do so.
But I don't want to be depressing. The reason I'm starting on the topic is to note the inevitable distance that is, too soon for my taste, now being placed between me and my baby. So I wanted to get to this while it's still somewhat fresh in mind: expressing the basic emotions that swelled up in the first moments, and first days, of being with my son. It all easily slips into cliche territory, especially when I am having small-talky conversations with some colleagues. And even more serious conversations don't always lead to a meaningful formulation. So I gave it some thought, and the first expression of the emotions I experienced was "a primal emotion of joy." Primal as in 'basic,' in the best sense of the word. But this was not quite right. So I ended up with "a state of intense warmth and openness."
I mentioned in my last post my marvelling at Leo's evolutionary mechanism through which he captures my complete attention. It is really an evocation striking at a biological aspect of my psychology. There is something fascinating about trying to observe my own nature irresistibly being manipulated in the process.
One of the more insightful books I read about parenting, Our Babies, Ourselves, is a lay introduction to ethnopediatrics,a recently-established branch of comparative anthropology which looks at how babies are nurtured across different cultures. By looking at how infant rearing is done in most cultures, typical North American practices such as sleeping arrangements, sleep training, strollers, reacting to crying, and diapers are challenged. The practices which are encouraged as a result of these types of comparisons, are reflected in attachment parenting (carrying your baby, sleeping with your baby, breastfeeding your baby). (Attachment parenting also emphasizes the neurologically immature state of a newborn, which is also a good reason to be nurturing the baby in a sheltered environment for the first few months).
It occurred to me that the innate biological reactions of parents to their babies might also be an interesting subject of study (and perhaps it has already been). I had thought of, and someone else mentioned, imprinting, as in our babies indelibly imprinting themselves on us from birth (though I think the term is used to describe the mimicking behaviour of newborns in certain species).
The benefits of having this emotional impact on his parents are obvious for a human newborn, the most helpless newborn of all mammals: the baby gets to be taken care of attentively, rather than abandoned for because he robs us of our sleep and takes over much our lives! The benefits to the parents are not as practical (nor external) for the first little while. Our reward is in experiencing a state of intense warmth and openness.
But I don't want to be depressing. The reason I'm starting on the topic is to note the inevitable distance that is, too soon for my taste, now being placed between me and my baby. So I wanted to get to this while it's still somewhat fresh in mind: expressing the basic emotions that swelled up in the first moments, and first days, of being with my son. It all easily slips into cliche territory, especially when I am having small-talky conversations with some colleagues. And even more serious conversations don't always lead to a meaningful formulation. So I gave it some thought, and the first expression of the emotions I experienced was "a primal emotion of joy." Primal as in 'basic,' in the best sense of the word. But this was not quite right. So I ended up with "a state of intense warmth and openness."
I mentioned in my last post my marvelling at Leo's evolutionary mechanism through which he captures my complete attention. It is really an evocation striking at a biological aspect of my psychology. There is something fascinating about trying to observe my own nature irresistibly being manipulated in the process.
One of the more insightful books I read about parenting, Our Babies, Ourselves, is a lay introduction to ethnopediatrics,a recently-established branch of comparative anthropology which looks at how babies are nurtured across different cultures. By looking at how infant rearing is done in most cultures, typical North American practices such as sleeping arrangements, sleep training, strollers, reacting to crying, and diapers are challenged. The practices which are encouraged as a result of these types of comparisons, are reflected in attachment parenting (carrying your baby, sleeping with your baby, breastfeeding your baby). (Attachment parenting also emphasizes the neurologically immature state of a newborn, which is also a good reason to be nurturing the baby in a sheltered environment for the first few months).
It occurred to me that the innate biological reactions of parents to their babies might also be an interesting subject of study (and perhaps it has already been). I had thought of, and someone else mentioned, imprinting, as in our babies indelibly imprinting themselves on us from birth (though I think the term is used to describe the mimicking behaviour of newborns in certain species).
The benefits of having this emotional impact on his parents are obvious for a human newborn, the most helpless newborn of all mammals: the baby gets to be taken care of attentively, rather than abandoned for because he robs us of our sleep and takes over much our lives! The benefits to the parents are not as practical (nor external) for the first little while. Our reward is in experiencing a state of intense warmth and openness.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Baby's here!
Great news! Rose and I have a baby! His name's Leo!
Leo was born Saturday, June 18 at 2:32 pm close to our living room floor (but with ample clearance!). I have been doing little but gaping at him for the past two weeks.
My son was born without violence. I am proud of this because Rose and I went through a lot of books, videos, and classes to learn about birth and were both hoping for, and working towards, a particular outcome. Rose did beautifully. Our doula was amazing. Our midwives were amazing. I was sleepy but maybe helped a bit too. If I can give anyone any advice on labouring is GET YOURSELF A GOOD DOULA. The process would have been a lot more stressful for us and a lot more difficult for me without the doula's support. I am grateful to everyone who were there and I am both grateful and humbled for our not having had to face any serious complications.
I cannot describe what it is like to be witness to the birth of my child and what it is like to spend the first three days with the baby. I marvel at the evolutionary mechanism by which I am helplessly charmed when grasping at this being with all my senses. I only wish I could spend more of my time with him in the coming weeks.
Leo has a great temperament. He almost never cries and when he does, the cry is well warranted! After attending a great Bringing Baby Home class, we are (so far) trying to be attachment parents. This after much skepticism on my part. But hey, go with the flow. It's hard to know how much of Leo's gentle temperament is due to our attachment parenting this early in the game. Or, for that matter, how much his gentle birth may have to do with it. It's early going still, and his attitude may change altogether! Rose is working through some breastfeeding challenges and that's going well. And I, after much joking around, finally decided that I'm interested in EC. Rose is getting on board, but not quite yet...
Having spent some pixel space on the topic of circumcision in the past months, I should also address it here. Leo was circumcised by a pediatrician who is also a mohel. It was a ritual Jewish circumcision modified for the occasion ('circumcision with intent to convert'). The mohel had it all worked out with his standard text and ceremony with which everyone was happy. Medically, it all went very well, and Leo is recovering great. But it was also a traumatic experience for me and difficult one for Rose. I may write about this more at a later time.
For now, enjoy Leo, hanging out with me mere minutes after his birth!
Leo was born Saturday, June 18 at 2:32 pm close to our living room floor (but with ample clearance!). I have been doing little but gaping at him for the past two weeks.
My son was born without violence. I am proud of this because Rose and I went through a lot of books, videos, and classes to learn about birth and were both hoping for, and working towards, a particular outcome. Rose did beautifully. Our doula was amazing. Our midwives were amazing. I was sleepy but maybe helped a bit too. If I can give anyone any advice on labouring is GET YOURSELF A GOOD DOULA. The process would have been a lot more stressful for us and a lot more difficult for me without the doula's support. I am grateful to everyone who were there and I am both grateful and humbled for our not having had to face any serious complications.
I cannot describe what it is like to be witness to the birth of my child and what it is like to spend the first three days with the baby. I marvel at the evolutionary mechanism by which I am helplessly charmed when grasping at this being with all my senses. I only wish I could spend more of my time with him in the coming weeks.
Leo has a great temperament. He almost never cries and when he does, the cry is well warranted! After attending a great Bringing Baby Home class, we are (so far) trying to be attachment parents. This after much skepticism on my part. But hey, go with the flow. It's hard to know how much of Leo's gentle temperament is due to our attachment parenting this early in the game. Or, for that matter, how much his gentle birth may have to do with it. It's early going still, and his attitude may change altogether! Rose is working through some breastfeeding challenges and that's going well. And I, after much joking around, finally decided that I'm interested in EC. Rose is getting on board, but not quite yet...
Having spent some pixel space on the topic of circumcision in the past months, I should also address it here. Leo was circumcised by a pediatrician who is also a mohel. It was a ritual Jewish circumcision modified for the occasion ('circumcision with intent to convert'). The mohel had it all worked out with his standard text and ceremony with which everyone was happy. Medically, it all went very well, and Leo is recovering great. But it was also a traumatic experience for me and difficult one for Rose. I may write about this more at a later time.
For now, enjoy Leo, hanging out with me mere minutes after his birth!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Presence of mind
Following a scheduling mix-up, Rose and I managed to have our first full pre-natal meeting with our doula today. There was some confusion about the time, but she made it this afternoon and stayed with us for not quite three hours. Three hours is a long time for me to keep absorbing information about managing labour, excitedly related by a woman passionate about the topic. Luckily, there was some laundry that I could go down and deal with for a few minutes for a break. Rose seems to be very much in tune with this doula, and the doula does have a lot of energy and passion, which is great.
This meeting got me thinking about presence and labour, or labour and presence. Rose and I have been exposing ourselves to a lot of information and expert knowledge on the process of labouring (we had a pre-natal class over two Saturdays recently, each session of about 6 hours). There are at least two reasons that we're amassing all this knowledge, and they both have to do with being prepared for labour. First, we want to know what is going on! The various technical descriptions of contraction timing, for example, will help us figure out in what stage of labour we're at. Second, we want to know how to manage labour, in particular, strategies for pain management, comfort measures, positions, drinking, eating, whatever.
This is going to be a significant process and it is being directed, rightly, at Rose's (and the baby's, don't forget the baby!) experience. It is everyone's job to help Rose have a positive experience. Not least of which, it is her own job. And it will be a huge job for her. But it is also my job (and the doula's job, and the midwife's job). And an important part of this job involves being present. For the whole time. Being there, with awareness, with presence of mind.
At one point during our meeting today, when Rose excused herself for a few minutes and the doula and I were chatting, she asked me how I'm feeling about this process. I said I'm learning (I mentioned to her earlier in the meeting that I'm reading this book; a great resource, but a slow read), but that I have this general feeling of incompetence about the whole process, like someone's who learned motorcycle repair from book. "Without having ever looked at a bike," she completed the thought. Yes. Exactly. Not unhelpfully, she said that what I do have to offer is unconditional love. Less helpful I thought is her conviction that my intuition will take over.
I am getting a sense of why my father made the choice of not being part of labour. I have not been given a similar choice, and I think it's a good thing that I haven't been. One of the key principles that we have been reading about and taught is the importance, for a labouring woman, of going through the pain, not working against it and not fighting your body. My own task is to work through this passive resistance, to get outside my own comfort zone, and, when the time comes, be an active, helping, and loving presence. To commit to the process, with my presence.
This meeting got me thinking about presence and labour, or labour and presence. Rose and I have been exposing ourselves to a lot of information and expert knowledge on the process of labouring (we had a pre-natal class over two Saturdays recently, each session of about 6 hours). There are at least two reasons that we're amassing all this knowledge, and they both have to do with being prepared for labour. First, we want to know what is going on! The various technical descriptions of contraction timing, for example, will help us figure out in what stage of labour we're at. Second, we want to know how to manage labour, in particular, strategies for pain management, comfort measures, positions, drinking, eating, whatever.
This is going to be a significant process and it is being directed, rightly, at Rose's (and the baby's, don't forget the baby!) experience. It is everyone's job to help Rose have a positive experience. Not least of which, it is her own job. And it will be a huge job for her. But it is also my job (and the doula's job, and the midwife's job). And an important part of this job involves being present. For the whole time. Being there, with awareness, with presence of mind.
At one point during our meeting today, when Rose excused herself for a few minutes and the doula and I were chatting, she asked me how I'm feeling about this process. I said I'm learning (I mentioned to her earlier in the meeting that I'm reading this book; a great resource, but a slow read), but that I have this general feeling of incompetence about the whole process, like someone's who learned motorcycle repair from book. "Without having ever looked at a bike," she completed the thought. Yes. Exactly. Not unhelpfully, she said that what I do have to offer is unconditional love. Less helpful I thought is her conviction that my intuition will take over.
I am getting a sense of why my father made the choice of not being part of labour. I have not been given a similar choice, and I think it's a good thing that I haven't been. One of the key principles that we have been reading about and taught is the importance, for a labouring woman, of going through the pain, not working against it and not fighting your body. My own task is to work through this passive resistance, to get outside my own comfort zone, and, when the time comes, be an active, helping, and loving presence. To commit to the process, with my presence.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
More fun with the Rabbi
When I was in Junior High, in north (and I mean north) Toronto -- at the time, for those of you who might remember pre-amalgamation MEGACITY -- it was called North York, Willowdale even.... (Hey, I voted in that referendum. No one can say that I supported this monstrosity. Fourth freaking largest city in North America. Think about that for a second. Bigger than Boston). ...
I digress.
Back when I was in Junior High, in what was a very Jewish school -- new Jews, old Jews, first generation Canadian Jews, second generation Canadian Jews, and lots of Russian Jews -- we had, from time to time, Lunch with the Rabbi. It was awesome. What would happen is you and some other Israelis would hang out with a Rabbi and would be given Israeli treats which would only increase your nostalgia for a country from which you were brutally deracinated.
But I digress. And exaggerate.
You all know where this is going. This is turning into a religious blog, you rebel! It's not. But it's my damn blog and I'll write what I want and nobody is even reading this anyway, right?
So yesterday was my (sorta) weekly lesson with my Rabbi who is leaving for Chicago. Very sad, yaddi, yaddi, yadda. OK, here's the baby part of the blog. I mustered up my courage (for some reason, when sitting across from this man, I feel like I have a rock for a head and I lose my suaveness) and asked him about his decision regarding the circumcision (this is becoming truly self-referential). I had all my arsenal at the ready. It will be early July probably. Maybe he'll be interested in an Ottawa visit. Maybe I will pay for his ticket, or half. No dice. "Why don't you get in touch with Dr. Engel?" I'll get in touch with Dr. Engel. But I still wanted his real answer. "The decision has been made for me," he said. "I'm moving to Chicago."
Now, for all interested in sticking around for the second half of the blog post. Here it comes.
For some reason, my Rabbi wanted to get to the rainbow part of the story of Noah that we even skipped a couple of paragraphs. Remember how God made an oath never to flood the earth again, "for the imagery of a man's heart is evil from his youth" (yeah, I screwed up the Stone translation -- imagery, not image, for yetzer). And so, to mark this oath--actually, to mark a covenant with humanity, God creates a rainbow (you can bet it was a double, or even a triple, rainbow all da way for that first rainbow of the world). "And God said, 'This is the sign of the covenant that I give between Me and you, and every living being that is with you, to generations forever. I have set My [triple] rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth. And it shall happen, when I place a cloud over the earth, and the bow will be seen in the cloud. I will remember My covenant between Me and you and every living being among all flesh, and the water shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.'"
OK, my Rabbi has really been waiting to share this passage with me, that's why we skipped. He's been talking about it for a while. Now, you know the drill, he starts running around the study, looking for a book. He consults with the Rabbi leading the talmud session, gets an opinion, and goes back to the shelf. Can't find it. He'll ad lib. It's OK, he knows this stuff.
"So when see a rainbow, we should be happy, right?" he asks (rhetorically of course). "God is reminding us of the covenant he made with all living beings." I nod.
"No!" he says, "we should be sad. We should be sad because God is reminding us (or himself) that although he is angry with us, he won't have another flood, because so he swore."
"OK."
"What about a lunar eclipse?" Now he's really getting into it.
"According to a midrash, lunar eclipses are considered a bad omen for the Jews. Now, how can they be a bad omen? We know that we can predict them scientifically. "Hold on," he says. Runs around some more, finds books this time, and brings them over. This is highly advanced stuff (for me). The talmud. I move over and sit beside him. He reads aloud. We look at another text, this one written a couple of hundred years later, interpreting the older interpretation (this is how biblical exegesis works). The explanation is as follows: during the time of solar and lunar eclipses, there is a greater potential for misfortune. What about earthquakes?
This is where it gets weird. Through this whole discussion, we never make reference to Japan once. I do almost, but think it unnecessary, assuming that we are both living on the same planet. And, to be fair, maybe it wasn't necessary, maybe it was all in the background.
Now before we all get to the punchline here, I want to put this in context. These texts that we're looking at are old. They were written by wise men A LONG TIME AGO. Strange ideas. And yet, and yet... These texts are immensely respected in this one community. They are taken at their word, though interpretations, I would think, have to be stretched. The texts are valued as interpretations, but must, I would think, be seen with some perspective. This is esoteric and obscure stuff, and I do not understand it. (This is why I am looking forward to reading this book which was banned by certain influential rabbis).
So I found, on important surfing time today, two blog posts from people who actually know what they are talking about, on earthquakes in the talmud. These can do better justice than I can to the passages I listened to yesterday. First, the causes of earthquakes. This learned scholar explains that earthquakes may be caused by "any one of a number of acts: yes one of them is gay sex, but others are by disputes, and also by not taking heave offering and tithes from your produce, and also because God is just upset that the Temple is in ruins and there are theaters and circuses in Israel."
The more interesting question is, what is the physical process which gives rise to an earthquake. We all have some notion of this, right? Tectonic plates grating against each other, etc., right? Wrong, earthquakes are caused by two of God's tears in the sea:
I digress.
Back when I was in Junior High, in what was a very Jewish school -- new Jews, old Jews, first generation Canadian Jews, second generation Canadian Jews, and lots of Russian Jews -- we had, from time to time, Lunch with the Rabbi. It was awesome. What would happen is you and some other Israelis would hang out with a Rabbi and would be given Israeli treats which would only increase your nostalgia for a country from which you were brutally deracinated.
But I digress. And exaggerate.
You all know where this is going. This is turning into a religious blog, you rebel! It's not. But it's my damn blog and I'll write what I want and nobody is even reading this anyway, right?
So yesterday was my (sorta) weekly lesson with my Rabbi who is leaving for Chicago. Very sad, yaddi, yaddi, yadda. OK, here's the baby part of the blog. I mustered up my courage (for some reason, when sitting across from this man, I feel like I have a rock for a head and I lose my suaveness) and asked him about his decision regarding the circumcision (this is becoming truly self-referential). I had all my arsenal at the ready. It will be early July probably. Maybe he'll be interested in an Ottawa visit. Maybe I will pay for his ticket, or half. No dice. "Why don't you get in touch with Dr. Engel?" I'll get in touch with Dr. Engel. But I still wanted his real answer. "The decision has been made for me," he said. "I'm moving to Chicago."
Now, for all interested in sticking around for the second half of the blog post. Here it comes.
For some reason, my Rabbi wanted to get to the rainbow part of the story of Noah that we even skipped a couple of paragraphs. Remember how God made an oath never to flood the earth again, "for the imagery of a man's heart is evil from his youth" (yeah, I screwed up the Stone translation -- imagery, not image, for yetzer). And so, to mark this oath--actually, to mark a covenant with humanity, God creates a rainbow (you can bet it was a double, or even a triple, rainbow all da way for that first rainbow of the world). "And God said, 'This is the sign of the covenant that I give between Me and you, and every living being that is with you, to generations forever. I have set My [triple] rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth. And it shall happen, when I place a cloud over the earth, and the bow will be seen in the cloud. I will remember My covenant between Me and you and every living being among all flesh, and the water shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.'"
OK, my Rabbi has really been waiting to share this passage with me, that's why we skipped. He's been talking about it for a while. Now, you know the drill, he starts running around the study, looking for a book. He consults with the Rabbi leading the talmud session, gets an opinion, and goes back to the shelf. Can't find it. He'll ad lib. It's OK, he knows this stuff.
"So when see a rainbow, we should be happy, right?" he asks (rhetorically of course). "God is reminding us of the covenant he made with all living beings." I nod.
"No!" he says, "we should be sad. We should be sad because God is reminding us (or himself) that although he is angry with us, he won't have another flood, because so he swore."
"OK."
"What about a lunar eclipse?" Now he's really getting into it.
"According to a midrash, lunar eclipses are considered a bad omen for the Jews. Now, how can they be a bad omen? We know that we can predict them scientifically. "Hold on," he says. Runs around some more, finds books this time, and brings them over. This is highly advanced stuff (for me). The talmud. I move over and sit beside him. He reads aloud. We look at another text, this one written a couple of hundred years later, interpreting the older interpretation (this is how biblical exegesis works). The explanation is as follows: during the time of solar and lunar eclipses, there is a greater potential for misfortune. What about earthquakes?
This is where it gets weird. Through this whole discussion, we never make reference to Japan once. I do almost, but think it unnecessary, assuming that we are both living on the same planet. And, to be fair, maybe it wasn't necessary, maybe it was all in the background.
Now before we all get to the punchline here, I want to put this in context. These texts that we're looking at are old. They were written by wise men A LONG TIME AGO. Strange ideas. And yet, and yet... These texts are immensely respected in this one community. They are taken at their word, though interpretations, I would think, have to be stretched. The texts are valued as interpretations, but must, I would think, be seen with some perspective. This is esoteric and obscure stuff, and I do not understand it. (This is why I am looking forward to reading this book which was banned by certain influential rabbis).
So I found, on important surfing time today, two blog posts from people who actually know what they are talking about, on earthquakes in the talmud. These can do better justice than I can to the passages I listened to yesterday. First, the causes of earthquakes. This learned scholar explains that earthquakes may be caused by "any one of a number of acts: yes one of them is gay sex, but others are by disputes, and also by not taking heave offering and tithes from your produce, and also because God is just upset that the Temple is in ruins and there are theaters and circuses in Israel."
The more interesting question is, what is the physical process which gives rise to an earthquake. We all have some notion of this, right? Tectonic plates grating against each other, etc., right? Wrong, earthquakes are caused by two of God's tears in the sea:
"When God takes notice of his children, who are mired in oppression among the nations of the world, He drops two tears into the ocean, and the resultant commotion is heard from one end of the world to the other.”
We conclude. When we see a rainbow, witness an eclipse, or learn of an earthquake, we reflect on what this means to us, children of Israel.
But what about Japan?
One quick correction here: I was jumping from lunar to solar eclipses above. If I remember correctly, SOLAR eclipses may portend a bad omen for Jews and lunar ones, for the Gentiles (because Jews follow the lunar calendar). So there.
But what about Japan?
One quick correction here: I was jumping from lunar to solar eclipses above. If I remember correctly, SOLAR eclipses may portend a bad omen for Jews and lunar ones, for the Gentiles (because Jews follow the lunar calendar). So there.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
"For the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth"
My Rabbi, of whom you have already heard, is moving to Chicago, to head up a yeshiva. This is great news for him and I wish him the best! Also, this leaves me without a potential mohel. I have not broached the topic with him since the last time and I'm not sure if I will again. This can become a major issue for me, as I have certain expectations and will only have someone that I trust fulfill this role. Then again, there's a 50-50 chance that no mohel will be necessary; but, should one be, I will probably have other things on my mind in the first eight days of my son's life!
So I had my (sorta) weekly class with my Rabbi yesterday. We have just been going over, line by line, the Hebrew bible (Tanach). We only end up having 20 minute sessions, so we're not very far along. Only the second parasha, following Genesis (the story of Creation): the story of Noah, with which everyone is surely familiar. Some of the details may surprise you, but the basic outline of the story is well-known (for example, I, along with many others no doubt, assumed that the symbol of the olive branch for peace originates from this story. But going over it with the Rabbi, this appeared to make no sense. A bit of googling revealed that this symbol is probably of Greek origin. But I digress.)
So yesterday, my Rabbi and I got to the end of the flood, when the water subsided completely and Noah opened the ark and, along with his family (his wife, his sons and their wives), and all the animal specimens kept inside the ark, stepped on dry land. Noah proceeded to prepare an offering to God of some of the animals (who did not go extinct as a result of this; another detail in the story which I will not get into) by burning them on the altar (those were different days than ours). God found the scent rather pleasing and, being appeased by it, vows never again to curse the land nor smite every living being. There is simply no point for "the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth." I'll stop for a second just to note the striking lyricism of this passage in Hebrew, for those of you who can read it: כי יצר לב האדם רע מנעוריו
Some of you can appreciate that some passages just do not carry the same force in translation. Another striking passage, in the story of Cain and Abel, when God confronts Cain with the death of Abel He says "What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood cries out to Me from the earth!" (All translations (adopted) from the Stone Edition). This is clumsy, the Hebrew,
מה עשית קול דמי אחיך צועקים אלי מן-האדמה
comes at you at 100 miles an hour.
OK, so the Rabbi and I read this ("the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth"), the Rabbi looks at me and asks, "Are you ready to be an educator?"
"I'm not sure," I answer.
"You're going to be one soon."
"OK"
"Do you have the tools to be an educator?"
"Hardly."
"OK then," he says, "give me one sec," and starts running around the study. This is a pretty big room, lots of desks, chairs, a talmud session going on, a couple of other partners studying together. He's looking for a book. Looks over here, looks over there, has a chat with some fellow students, asks around, comes back.
"We don't have it! How can we not have this book? OK, I'll paraphrase for you."
I forget the particulars of this book. It is some kind of commentary (obviously).
So the word translated as "shape" or "form", as in "shape (or form) of a man's heart" is yetzer, something like an inclination. Yetzer ha-ra is an inclination for evil. And he tells me, the Rabbi, that children have to be trained (his word), for they all come with this basic inclination. Fair enough, but "trained"? He goes on, in the tradition, and tells me a couple of entertaining stories told by his teachers. The point of these is, sometimes being a disciplinarian is called for. Sometimes, "because daddy said so," is the correct answer. Why? Because, if children do not hear this when they're young, they may well go astray, following their evil inclination.
My internalized reaction is to resist this approach, to view it as archaic (and perhaps typical in this case). But, while the Tiger Mother may be extreme, tough love may sometimes be in order. Or am I launching a culture war?
Now, in my own attempt to appease God, lest it be thought that I am not properly showing respect, I'll share with you this awesome song.
So I had my (sorta) weekly class with my Rabbi yesterday. We have just been going over, line by line, the Hebrew bible (Tanach). We only end up having 20 minute sessions, so we're not very far along. Only the second parasha, following Genesis (the story of Creation): the story of Noah, with which everyone is surely familiar. Some of the details may surprise you, but the basic outline of the story is well-known (for example, I, along with many others no doubt, assumed that the symbol of the olive branch for peace originates from this story. But going over it with the Rabbi, this appeared to make no sense. A bit of googling revealed that this symbol is probably of Greek origin. But I digress.)
So yesterday, my Rabbi and I got to the end of the flood, when the water subsided completely and Noah opened the ark and, along with his family (his wife, his sons and their wives), and all the animal specimens kept inside the ark, stepped on dry land. Noah proceeded to prepare an offering to God of some of the animals (who did not go extinct as a result of this; another detail in the story which I will not get into) by burning them on the altar (those were different days than ours). God found the scent rather pleasing and, being appeased by it, vows never again to curse the land nor smite every living being. There is simply no point for "the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth." I'll stop for a second just to note the striking lyricism of this passage in Hebrew, for those of you who can read it: כי יצר לב האדם רע מנעוריו
Some of you can appreciate that some passages just do not carry the same force in translation. Another striking passage, in the story of Cain and Abel, when God confronts Cain with the death of Abel He says "What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood cries out to Me from the earth!" (All translations (adopted) from the Stone Edition). This is clumsy, the Hebrew,
מה עשית קול דמי אחיך צועקים אלי מן-האדמה
comes at you at 100 miles an hour.
OK, so the Rabbi and I read this ("the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth"), the Rabbi looks at me and asks, "Are you ready to be an educator?"
"I'm not sure," I answer.
"You're going to be one soon."
"OK"
"Do you have the tools to be an educator?"
"Hardly."
"OK then," he says, "give me one sec," and starts running around the study. This is a pretty big room, lots of desks, chairs, a talmud session going on, a couple of other partners studying together. He's looking for a book. Looks over here, looks over there, has a chat with some fellow students, asks around, comes back.
"We don't have it! How can we not have this book? OK, I'll paraphrase for you."
I forget the particulars of this book. It is some kind of commentary (obviously).
So the word translated as "shape" or "form", as in "shape (or form) of a man's heart" is yetzer, something like an inclination. Yetzer ha-ra is an inclination for evil. And he tells me, the Rabbi, that children have to be trained (his word), for they all come with this basic inclination. Fair enough, but "trained"? He goes on, in the tradition, and tells me a couple of entertaining stories told by his teachers. The point of these is, sometimes being a disciplinarian is called for. Sometimes, "because daddy said so," is the correct answer. Why? Because, if children do not hear this when they're young, they may well go astray, following their evil inclination.
My internalized reaction is to resist this approach, to view it as archaic (and perhaps typical in this case). But, while the Tiger Mother may be extreme, tough love may sometimes be in order. Or am I launching a culture war?
Now, in my own attempt to appease God, lest it be thought that I am not properly showing respect, I'll share with you this awesome song.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Baby moon
Dear followers,
I will be away from affordable interweb technology as of this Saturday. I'm very much excited about this trip. I will leave you with this wonderful clip to keep you entertained! Enjoy and see you in March!
I will be away from affordable interweb technology as of this Saturday. I'm very much excited about this trip. I will leave you with this wonderful clip to keep you entertained! Enjoy and see you in March!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Guilt!
Today's question, for all of you reflective types, is "where does guilt begin?" What is the origin of guilt?
What is guilt, really? Maybe it's tied to regret: you feel guilty when you know (think) you should have done something, but, for whatever reason, you did something else instead. Maybe, at the time, you did what appeared to be right, but now you feel that you were wrong (this is getting pretty heavy). Some people are also accused of trying to make you feel guilty (they often succeed at this). Hence the term, "guilt trip" or "guilt tripping." According to popular folklore, Jewish mothers are especially adept at this and, I hear, Catholics do a pretty good job of it as well.
Being made to feel guilty is a fascinating topic, and would be worth exploring another time. But often (and maybe always), it is you yourself who triggers your own guilt (if only in allowing yourself to feel guilty). I think we tend to feel guilty especially when our actions affected someone who is close to us. And so I come to my confession.
I feel privileged to a piece of knowledge: I already know when I first experienced guilt in dealing with my child. It was a couple of weeks ago, when the child was a wee 16 weeks. Sixteen weeks in the womb, that is. Unborn, for the love of God!
For those of you who have been paying attention, I've been mentioning the phenomenon of pre-natal communication, apparently a highly beneficial activity for the unborn child. So I did something awesome: I read a whole story to my unborn child! It is one of my favourite childhood stories in my mother tongue (you will probably recognise the cover of The Giving Tree, even if you don't happen to read Hebrew).
This is awesome, you see, because, with repetition, the unborn child will learn to recognise my voice, even some of the words, heck, maybe even the story itself! And if some people have it right, this can become a comforting story that will make the little guy shut up when he's otherwise inconsolable!
Alas, I have not read the story to the fetus again. I even think that he's asked for it and I have not found the time to read it. What a horrible father I am! Guilt-ridden already.
What would the giving tree say?
What is guilt, really? Maybe it's tied to regret: you feel guilty when you know (think) you should have done something, but, for whatever reason, you did something else instead. Maybe, at the time, you did what appeared to be right, but now you feel that you were wrong (this is getting pretty heavy). Some people are also accused of trying to make you feel guilty (they often succeed at this). Hence the term, "guilt trip" or "guilt tripping." According to popular folklore, Jewish mothers are especially adept at this and, I hear, Catholics do a pretty good job of it as well.
Being made to feel guilty is a fascinating topic, and would be worth exploring another time. But often (and maybe always), it is you yourself who triggers your own guilt (if only in allowing yourself to feel guilty). I think we tend to feel guilty especially when our actions affected someone who is close to us. And so I come to my confession.
I feel privileged to a piece of knowledge: I already know when I first experienced guilt in dealing with my child. It was a couple of weeks ago, when the child was a wee 16 weeks. Sixteen weeks in the womb, that is. Unborn, for the love of God!
For those of you who have been paying attention, I've been mentioning the phenomenon of pre-natal communication, apparently a highly beneficial activity for the unborn child. So I did something awesome: I read a whole story to my unborn child! It is one of my favourite childhood stories in my mother tongue (you will probably recognise the cover of The Giving Tree, even if you don't happen to read Hebrew).
This is awesome, you see, because, with repetition, the unborn child will learn to recognise my voice, even some of the words, heck, maybe even the story itself! And if some people have it right, this can become a comforting story that will make the little guy shut up when he's otherwise inconsolable!
Alas, I have not read the story to the fetus again. I even think that he's asked for it and I have not found the time to read it. What a horrible father I am! Guilt-ridden already.
What would the giving tree say?
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
"No tips"
We had another midwife appointment today, to which I grudgingly took the bus. The bus! I hate taking the bus! I don't really mind streetcars, which I took several times last week in Toronto where I attended a library conference. Streetcars, somehow, are not so bad. Maybe it's the predictable track, the smooth ride, and the easy suspension. Buses in Ottawa also smell like sweat I find.
Back on track. We got to hear the fetus' heart again today. It's a sound you just want to listen to forever; they always turn that dopler thingie off too soon. Rose's sister, who now has two great kids, rented her own dopler and listened to her first baby's heartbeat every night in bed. Something soothing about that.
But the real topic of this post is circumcision! Hurray for circumcision! I'm not here to engage in a debate about circumcision. In my case, anyway, nobody asked me and, also, nobody asked me if I wanted to be Jewish. If we happen to have a boy (or a girl, for that matter), our child will face some choices, later in life, about his religion. It'll be up to him to question and ask himself, and others, some questions and come up with the answers that will suit him. But I'd like to set him off on his life's journey the same way that I, my father, his father, and the rest of the fathers in my paternal lineage all the way down to a decisive day near Mount Sinai, have been started off: with a snip on the eighth day of all our lives. Rose and I have had this discussion a long time ago and we're in agreement on this.
Now a few months ago, around May of last year, I started taking Torah classes. Which is to say that, once a week, more or less, I sit down with a learned Rabbi and we study the Torah, the five books of Moses. We read it in Hebrew, line by line, and look at the commentary. This Rabbi also happens to be a mohel, a person who performs ritual Jewish circumcisions for a living. So it seemed natural to me that this wonderful, gentle, kind, and soulful man (not much older than I and with four children already!) whose work is really cutting edge, will circumcise my son in due course.
What I forgot to consider is my Rabbi's own position on this question. My son (or daughter), you see, will not be, halachically-speaking, Jewish because Judaism is passed down through the mother. So it is not so natural for my Rabbi to circumcise someone who is not born of a Jewish mother. Also, it is also not so natural to Rose to be around when this happens, because of the Rabbi's reservations.
So I gave my Rabbi some time to consider. And the next time I brought it up, he said that, on important matters such as this, he consults with his own Rabbi.
I'll keep you updated.
Back on track. We got to hear the fetus' heart again today. It's a sound you just want to listen to forever; they always turn that dopler thingie off too soon. Rose's sister, who now has two great kids, rented her own dopler and listened to her first baby's heartbeat every night in bed. Something soothing about that.
But the real topic of this post is circumcision! Hurray for circumcision! I'm not here to engage in a debate about circumcision. In my case, anyway, nobody asked me and, also, nobody asked me if I wanted to be Jewish. If we happen to have a boy (or a girl, for that matter), our child will face some choices, later in life, about his religion. It'll be up to him to question and ask himself, and others, some questions and come up with the answers that will suit him. But I'd like to set him off on his life's journey the same way that I, my father, his father, and the rest of the fathers in my paternal lineage all the way down to a decisive day near Mount Sinai, have been started off: with a snip on the eighth day of all our lives. Rose and I have had this discussion a long time ago and we're in agreement on this.
Now a few months ago, around May of last year, I started taking Torah classes. Which is to say that, once a week, more or less, I sit down with a learned Rabbi and we study the Torah, the five books of Moses. We read it in Hebrew, line by line, and look at the commentary. This Rabbi also happens to be a mohel, a person who performs ritual Jewish circumcisions for a living. So it seemed natural to me that this wonderful, gentle, kind, and soulful man (not much older than I and with four children already!) whose work is really cutting edge, will circumcise my son in due course.
What I forgot to consider is my Rabbi's own position on this question. My son (or daughter), you see, will not be, halachically-speaking, Jewish because Judaism is passed down through the mother. So it is not so natural for my Rabbi to circumcise someone who is not born of a Jewish mother. Also, it is also not so natural to Rose to be around when this happens, because of the Rabbi's reservations.
So I gave my Rabbi some time to consider. And the next time I brought it up, he said that, on important matters such as this, he consults with his own Rabbi.
I'll keep you updated.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Ultrasound!
Dear followers!
I have been remiss in not updating my thoughts about pregnancy, birth, and everything in between (and after). That's the way of blogging I guess. Let's start with a big shoutout to my dear, amazing friends Avital and Gili Zemer who tied the knot a week and a bit ago. An amazing couple and an oustanding event.
Back to the little humanoid in Rose's uterus and all things related. While, in the past few weeks, I've been seeing movies (incendies and jellyfish most notably, both good films), I've also been reading this book, written by a midwife who has been midwifing for a good, long time. The book describes Peggy's process of transition from nurse to midwife at a time when, even in hippy California, the profession was just gaining respectability.
The rest of the book contains excellent vignettes of births, each with something interesting to tell about the mother, the partner (or, in some cases, partners, including an entire Italian family and a group of new-agey lesbians), or the process of the birth. Well-written and highly digestible book.
Today's big news, however, as the post title may have led you to believe, is the long-awaited ultrasound! Ultrasounds are important tools for scientific reasons, but even more important as incontrovertible evidence (if you trust modern science, that is) that there is a fetus growing inside the mommy. This is now beyond doubt. Unfortunately, I had to take a bus to the ultrasound and I hate taking the bus. Nevertheless, it was pretty cool. We even got a picture, and I'll even try to attach it if I can figure out how.
See that, he's already standing up! (That's just me not knowing how to turn this thing around; also, the reason I say 'he' is because Rose decided she doesn't like calling the baby 'it', so we're alternating between the two pronouns. And my brother already used up the joke about the baby's leg, so no need to bother). Anyway, you get the idea: it's a baby in there! And we even got to see inside its brain! Scary stuff. And you guys are fortunate to see it.
I have been remiss in not updating my thoughts about pregnancy, birth, and everything in between (and after). That's the way of blogging I guess. Let's start with a big shoutout to my dear, amazing friends Avital and Gili Zemer who tied the knot a week and a bit ago. An amazing couple and an oustanding event.
Back to the little humanoid in Rose's uterus and all things related. While, in the past few weeks, I've been seeing movies (incendies and jellyfish most notably, both good films), I've also been reading this book, written by a midwife who has been midwifing for a good, long time. The book describes Peggy's process of transition from nurse to midwife at a time when, even in hippy California, the profession was just gaining respectability.
The rest of the book contains excellent vignettes of births, each with something interesting to tell about the mother, the partner (or, in some cases, partners, including an entire Italian family and a group of new-agey lesbians), or the process of the birth. Well-written and highly digestible book.
Today's big news, however, as the post title may have led you to believe, is the long-awaited ultrasound! Ultrasounds are important tools for scientific reasons, but even more important as incontrovertible evidence (if you trust modern science, that is) that there is a fetus growing inside the mommy. This is now beyond doubt. Unfortunately, I had to take a bus to the ultrasound and I hate taking the bus. Nevertheless, it was pretty cool. We even got a picture, and I'll even try to attach it if I can figure out how.
See that, he's already standing up! (That's just me not knowing how to turn this thing around; also, the reason I say 'he' is because Rose decided she doesn't like calling the baby 'it', so we're alternating between the two pronouns. And my brother already used up the joke about the baby's leg, so no need to bother). Anyway, you get the idea: it's a baby in there! And we even got to see inside its brain! Scary stuff. And you guys are fortunate to see it.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Elimination communication
Loyal followers! It seems that I am on the mend. I took some advil AND tylenol last night and my temperature, from a high of 38.6C last night, was clocked at 36.2C this morning. It is miraculous! And all thanks to your thoughts and well-wishes no doubt.
What does communication mean to you? Chew on that for a second. Usually, I figure communication involves, at a minimum, some level of understanding, or at least a belief of an understanding, of an expressed message. Good enough?
How about pre-natal communication? One of the more interesting parts of this book is about prenatal communication. The idea is this: by the 18th week (coming up for us!), the fetus is already able to hear noises surrounding it. The most important, and comforting, noise is the mom's heartbeat. Some cool experiments and a very cool anecdote are cited here (hope the links work; I wish this guy did a better job of citing the literature). Still, I'm uneasy about the term 'communication;' maybe something more suitable would be 'aural stimulation.' OK, I got over the terminology!
Once these guys and gals discovered that baby's can hear stuff, the question arose, 'so what?' Here's maybe where I'm wrong on the communication terminology. At some level, at least, it seems that baby's respond positively to certain aural stimulation: it can make them smarter! (here we go again). This guy here doesn't appear to have hesitated much before taking this idea to the capitalist extreme. His system, which expectant mother uses as a pouch, sets up a whole stimulation program using patterns of sounds replicating a heartbeat. Strap it on, quick and easy!
But where does a fellow like me, who wants to explore this here prenatal aural stimulation, go? My superficial searching failed to turn up any regimented program, free for the people. On the other hand, do I need one? I'll try to take the time and do my own self-devised ad hoc vocal stimulation. I'll take my cues from Rose.
(The title of this post, by the way, has nothing to do with the topic. It's a kind of inside joke referring to a decidedly messier type of post-natal communication).
What does communication mean to you? Chew on that for a second. Usually, I figure communication involves, at a minimum, some level of understanding, or at least a belief of an understanding, of an expressed message. Good enough?
How about pre-natal communication? One of the more interesting parts of this book is about prenatal communication. The idea is this: by the 18th week (coming up for us!), the fetus is already able to hear noises surrounding it. The most important, and comforting, noise is the mom's heartbeat. Some cool experiments and a very cool anecdote are cited here (hope the links work; I wish this guy did a better job of citing the literature). Still, I'm uneasy about the term 'communication;' maybe something more suitable would be 'aural stimulation.' OK, I got over the terminology!
Once these guys and gals discovered that baby's can hear stuff, the question arose, 'so what?' Here's maybe where I'm wrong on the communication terminology. At some level, at least, it seems that baby's respond positively to certain aural stimulation: it can make them smarter! (here we go again). This guy here doesn't appear to have hesitated much before taking this idea to the capitalist extreme. His system, which expectant mother uses as a pouch, sets up a whole stimulation program using patterns of sounds replicating a heartbeat. Strap it on, quick and easy!
But where does a fellow like me, who wants to explore this here prenatal aural stimulation, go? My superficial searching failed to turn up any regimented program, free for the people. On the other hand, do I need one? I'll try to take the time and do my own self-devised ad hoc vocal stimulation. I'll take my cues from Rose.
(The title of this post, by the way, has nothing to do with the topic. It's a kind of inside joke referring to a decidedly messier type of post-natal communication).
Sunday, January 16, 2011
I'm sick!
I'm sick everyone! A week before a very important event too!
's OK. I am fighting it off. Very much convinced that I caught this from an old Jew at the picture show, where Rose and I saw this stupid movie sensation that everyone is raving about: Barney's Version -- the movie. OVERRATED!
Back on track here, baby in uterus, reaching monstrous proportions. Swimming around.
The most exciting news is our securing of a doula! What is a doula, you may ask? As near as I understand it, having interviewed five of these ladies, a doula is a woman (I would be VERY surprised if there were many man doula out there. But hey, I just found out that two of my male capoeira compatriots are married, so anything's possible in this crazy world) who supports a pregnant woman, most notably during labour (but also with pre and post natal visits). A doula is also there to support me, in case I need to get a sandwich during labour, which can last a long time indeed. A doula supports the labouring woman through verbal encouragement and using various pain management techniques, both physical and psychological, including massage, hypnotherapy, visualization, breathing, etc.
Rose and I are superpsyched that the doula which chose was also the only one who brings her own birthing pool (look, daddy gets to hang out too!)! So this is getting to be a classically granola birth plan, I suppose. Try to avoid sharing this information with my parents please.
Rose and I, being thorough and responsible future-parents, interviewed five prospective doulas, including a doula goddess (on whom more at a later post, maybe). Doulas, by the way, don't come cheap -- the price range for the service is $600-$800.
Ah, interviewing, the art, the science of interviewing. A lot can be said about interviewing (and our interviewees in particular), but I will say only that the woman whom you chose to be there, for one of the most awesome, sacred, and messy processes of your life, is a privileged person indeed. I gotta a good feeling about this one.
's OK. I am fighting it off. Very much convinced that I caught this from an old Jew at the picture show, where Rose and I saw this stupid movie sensation that everyone is raving about: Barney's Version -- the movie. OVERRATED!
Back on track here, baby in uterus, reaching monstrous proportions. Swimming around.
The most exciting news is our securing of a doula! What is a doula, you may ask? As near as I understand it, having interviewed five of these ladies, a doula is a woman (I would be VERY surprised if there were many man doula out there. But hey, I just found out that two of my male capoeira compatriots are married, so anything's possible in this crazy world) who supports a pregnant woman, most notably during labour (but also with pre and post natal visits). A doula is also there to support me, in case I need to get a sandwich during labour, which can last a long time indeed. A doula supports the labouring woman through verbal encouragement and using various pain management techniques, both physical and psychological, including massage, hypnotherapy, visualization, breathing, etc.
Rose and I are superpsyched that the doula which chose was also the only one who brings her own birthing pool (look, daddy gets to hang out too!)! So this is getting to be a classically granola birth plan, I suppose. Try to avoid sharing this information with my parents please.
Rose and I, being thorough and responsible future-parents, interviewed five prospective doulas, including a doula goddess (on whom more at a later post, maybe). Doulas, by the way, don't come cheap -- the price range for the service is $600-$800.
Ah, interviewing, the art, the science of interviewing. A lot can be said about interviewing (and our interviewees in particular), but I will say only that the woman whom you chose to be there, for one of the most awesome, sacred, and messy processes of your life, is a privileged person indeed. I gotta a good feeling about this one.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
More thoughts on smart kids
You know when you're facing a major life change, or any decision at all, it just so happens that you notice literature and other material on that very topic that popping up around? Sure you do.
In the Jewish tradition, to which I belong, there is a special way of congratulating an expectant mother or father: 'be sha'a tova', roughly translated as 'let it come in a goodly hour.' It's not mazel tov, as you probably suspected.
Jewish people are notoriously superstitious. Notoriously. So much so that you don't buy anything for a baby before the baby shows up. This is because Jewish people are also skeptical by nature.
At any event, I find it an appropriate form of congratulations. And so, when I think about parenting, I feel as though I'm maybe getting ahead of myself, so I don't think about it too much. But I do think about it a bit. And so, the other day, I just happened to notice this crazy article about Chinese mothering, so-called (her term!). The woman, Amy Chua, a law professor at Yale maybe, wrote this guide to getting a fully actualized child--be it a virtuoso pianist, a math wizard, and so on. Madame Chua advocates the Chinese method of very tough love. Calling your child 'garbage' and so forth, in order to instill discipline and hard work. I have a feeling that Chua is perhaps trying to shock people into buying her book.
Anyway, I return to this theme that I mused about a few weeks back, of getting the best start for your child. And so you must ask yourself--I must ask myself--what is it that I want to get my child to achieve? And for Chua, it seems that she wants the same that many of us might: for her child to achieve great things. Maybe she wanted to achieve even greater things than becoming a Yale professor. I know I expected more than a normal life with a steady job with the Canadian civil service and maybe my child can out-achieve me as I sail into my 30s with no particular drive to excel and not having the same expectations of myself that I may have had a decade ago.
But I digress. Yes, of course we should give our children possibilities to explore themselves, as my parents did for me with piano lessons, judo lessons, kung-fu lessons, basketball lessons, computer lessons, enrichment classes, and so on. But, really, do I want to torture my child into greatness? Probably not. Take a breath, Chua, and calm down. It is a law of contemporary society that families generate children that are--or will find a way to believe that they are--screwed up in some way. No need to make this painfully obvious.
One thing that I might turn my attention to in terms of expectant parenting is sign language for the kid. I look forward to reading about it and hey, it might raise the baby's IQ!
Finally, my thoughts and hopes for a good outcome for the young capoeirista who collapsed in class today. Try to make it, M. Lavertu. We're rooting for you.
Just a quick update here; it seems my capoeira friend didn't make it. Rest in peace.
In the Jewish tradition, to which I belong, there is a special way of congratulating an expectant mother or father: 'be sha'a tova', roughly translated as 'let it come in a goodly hour.' It's not mazel tov, as you probably suspected.
Jewish people are notoriously superstitious. Notoriously. So much so that you don't buy anything for a baby before the baby shows up. This is because Jewish people are also skeptical by nature.
At any event, I find it an appropriate form of congratulations. And so, when I think about parenting, I feel as though I'm maybe getting ahead of myself, so I don't think about it too much. But I do think about it a bit. And so, the other day, I just happened to notice this crazy article about Chinese mothering, so-called (her term!). The woman, Amy Chua, a law professor at Yale maybe, wrote this guide to getting a fully actualized child--be it a virtuoso pianist, a math wizard, and so on. Madame Chua advocates the Chinese method of very tough love. Calling your child 'garbage' and so forth, in order to instill discipline and hard work. I have a feeling that Chua is perhaps trying to shock people into buying her book.
Anyway, I return to this theme that I mused about a few weeks back, of getting the best start for your child. And so you must ask yourself--I must ask myself--what is it that I want to get my child to achieve? And for Chua, it seems that she wants the same that many of us might: for her child to achieve great things. Maybe she wanted to achieve even greater things than becoming a Yale professor. I know I expected more than a normal life with a steady job with the Canadian civil service and maybe my child can out-achieve me as I sail into my 30s with no particular drive to excel and not having the same expectations of myself that I may have had a decade ago.
But I digress. Yes, of course we should give our children possibilities to explore themselves, as my parents did for me with piano lessons, judo lessons, kung-fu lessons, basketball lessons, computer lessons, enrichment classes, and so on. But, really, do I want to torture my child into greatness? Probably not. Take a breath, Chua, and calm down. It is a law of contemporary society that families generate children that are--or will find a way to believe that they are--screwed up in some way. No need to make this painfully obvious.
One thing that I might turn my attention to in terms of expectant parenting is sign language for the kid. I look forward to reading about it and hey, it might raise the baby's IQ!
Finally, my thoughts and hopes for a good outcome for the young capoeirista who collapsed in class today. Try to make it, M. Lavertu. We're rooting for you.
Just a quick update here; it seems my capoeira friend didn't make it. Rest in peace.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Heartbeat!
Today, Wednesday January 12 at 3:20 in the afternoon, sitting in my midwife's office in Vanier and looking out a large window, I saw grey skies, a large chimney emitting steam, and an orange brick building. And I heard, for the first time, my firstborn's hearbeats. If you round your lips, put your tongue on your upper palate, and exhale forcefully as you lower your tongue, you may be making the sound that we were hearing, at 150 beats a minute. It was a special moment.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Self fulfilling prophecies
So there is a revolution in the practice of birthing in North America, where births have been hospitalized and now women are taking back their births! Not everyone is on board, but Rose and I feel like we are getting on board. The recurring theme is that births, which are, and should be regarded as a natural and, most of the time, not risky procedures, have been medicalized. At the same time, if there is a chance of something going wrong (and there always is!), isn't good to have access to medical services? Of course it is!
The Business of Being Born hones in on a particular New York-area midwife (or so I recall) who specializes in home births. A very cool woman. We're a bit different here in Ontario where we have access to midwives as provincially-accredited caregivers who can care for pregnant women in a hospital setting as well.
The midwife group that we've signed up with has occasional information session on home births and we will be attending one such session in a few months, at which point I will know more about this. My impression right now is that, unless some drug needs to be administered, no doctors have to be involved in the birth, even when it is a hospital birth, as long as the midwife has privileges at the hospital.
What difference does this make? Rose and I feel that we've already made a key decision in de-medicalizing (if that's a word) the pregnancy and birth by choosing to go with a midwife. We think that an experienced midwife (which we're lucky to have) will probably be more tolerant and patient than a doctor (and these suspicions have been confirmed in the movies--admittedly, based in the States--that we've been seeing).
So birthing in a hospital under a midwife's care should be good, right? Probably. BUT, there may be some reasons to prefer trying a home birth rather than a hospital birth.
First reason, you are familiar with the surroundings and you have more control over them. The woman can labour in any way she wants to, without having to worry about procedures, etc. The lights can be dimmed. And so on.
Second reason, not having access to drugs and medical interventions will make it less likely that the woman will receive them.
Third reason, a woman who decides to labour and give birth at home may have an uncomplicated birth because she chose to do it at home. This may sound weird, but it may be true. It may be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The question I've posed to myself is whether there is the possibility of experiencing a risk that can only be treated in a hospital when it becomes too late to make it to a hospital? If the answer to this is 'yes', then of course we should have a hospital birth. But the evidence that we have been exposed to appears to show that, as long as the birth is low risk, the midwife is experienced, and the hospital is less than 15 minutes away, a home birth is safe.
Home birthing is also a sensitive topic, in my case, for family members. So let's try to avoid sharing these reflections with my mother. You know who you are.
The Business of Being Born hones in on a particular New York-area midwife (or so I recall) who specializes in home births. A very cool woman. We're a bit different here in Ontario where we have access to midwives as provincially-accredited caregivers who can care for pregnant women in a hospital setting as well.
The midwife group that we've signed up with has occasional information session on home births and we will be attending one such session in a few months, at which point I will know more about this. My impression right now is that, unless some drug needs to be administered, no doctors have to be involved in the birth, even when it is a hospital birth, as long as the midwife has privileges at the hospital.
What difference does this make? Rose and I feel that we've already made a key decision in de-medicalizing (if that's a word) the pregnancy and birth by choosing to go with a midwife. We think that an experienced midwife (which we're lucky to have) will probably be more tolerant and patient than a doctor (and these suspicions have been confirmed in the movies--admittedly, based in the States--that we've been seeing).
So birthing in a hospital under a midwife's care should be good, right? Probably. BUT, there may be some reasons to prefer trying a home birth rather than a hospital birth.
First reason, you are familiar with the surroundings and you have more control over them. The woman can labour in any way she wants to, without having to worry about procedures, etc. The lights can be dimmed. And so on.
Second reason, not having access to drugs and medical interventions will make it less likely that the woman will receive them.
Third reason, a woman who decides to labour and give birth at home may have an uncomplicated birth because she chose to do it at home. This may sound weird, but it may be true. It may be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The question I've posed to myself is whether there is the possibility of experiencing a risk that can only be treated in a hospital when it becomes too late to make it to a hospital? If the answer to this is 'yes', then of course we should have a hospital birth. But the evidence that we have been exposed to appears to show that, as long as the birth is low risk, the midwife is experienced, and the hospital is less than 15 minutes away, a home birth is safe.
Home birthing is also a sensitive topic, in my case, for family members. So let's try to avoid sharing these reflections with my mother. You know who you are.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Birth without violence, part 2
I may have led you to believe, based on my last posting, that I am a convert to Leboyer's birthing method. But this is not true. I have certain reservations.
Unlike some of the more recent popular proponents for natural home birth who tend to strongly advocate for the mother, Leboyer focuses on the baby's well-being. You might say the Leboyer's chief insight is pointing out the neglect of the baby in the birthing process. But then Leboyer's method begs the question about the mother's well being. In his concerns for the baby's emotional well-being, Leboyer prescribes a silent delivery room. Now, perhaps this can be a useful part of giving birth peacefully, but hey, maybe the mother has let out some steam!
I didn't look a lot into criticisms of Leboyer and his methods, but I looked a bit (and also checked out a bit of the scholarship). I looked at this brief article from People's magazine, archived from 1976, which superficially explores Leboyer's own life experiences. It is telling that the motivation for his technique stems, at least partly, from Freudian analysis which allowed Leboyer to relive his own traumatic birth. Also, what must be acknowledged by Leboyer and all men, and that which I am happy to acknowledge myself, is that we, men, cannot have access to the birthing experience.
Partly I think that I am drawn to Leboyer's method because I suspect that maybe my own birth experience could have been better too (see, this is the personal part of blogging that I committed to in my previous post). Maybe if my mother had something closer to a natural birth and chose to breastfeed, I might be a more naturally compassionate person.
Having a new baby is like buying a new car. For the first few weeks, you fuss all over it, you wash and wax it, smell it. Then you start noticing a scratch here and a ding there, and you relax. Still, it's important to do what you can to give the baby a good start. Without going crazy, in following the guidelines to a healthy pregnancy with some attention paid to the fetus when it can hear you, and having a healthy birth, you are doing what you can for the baby and for you.
Unlike some of the more recent popular proponents for natural home birth who tend to strongly advocate for the mother, Leboyer focuses on the baby's well-being. You might say the Leboyer's chief insight is pointing out the neglect of the baby in the birthing process. But then Leboyer's method begs the question about the mother's well being. In his concerns for the baby's emotional well-being, Leboyer prescribes a silent delivery room. Now, perhaps this can be a useful part of giving birth peacefully, but hey, maybe the mother has let out some steam!
I didn't look a lot into criticisms of Leboyer and his methods, but I looked a bit (and also checked out a bit of the scholarship). I looked at this brief article from People's magazine, archived from 1976, which superficially explores Leboyer's own life experiences. It is telling that the motivation for his technique stems, at least partly, from Freudian analysis which allowed Leboyer to relive his own traumatic birth. Also, what must be acknowledged by Leboyer and all men, and that which I am happy to acknowledge myself, is that we, men, cannot have access to the birthing experience.
Partly I think that I am drawn to Leboyer's method because I suspect that maybe my own birth experience could have been better too (see, this is the personal part of blogging that I committed to in my previous post). Maybe if my mother had something closer to a natural birth and chose to breastfeed, I might be a more naturally compassionate person.
Having a new baby is like buying a new car. For the first few weeks, you fuss all over it, you wash and wax it, smell it. Then you start noticing a scratch here and a ding there, and you relax. Still, it's important to do what you can to give the baby a good start. Without going crazy, in following the guidelines to a healthy pregnancy with some attention paid to the fetus when it can hear you, and having a healthy birth, you are doing what you can for the baby and for you.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Birth without violence
I've been told by my one reader (my wife) that this blog is not personal enough. I guess I have trouble getting in touch with my emotions sometime, which makes it difficult to share them. I do not deny being a follower of Platonist psychology, which may be outdated for our culture. Times change!
This may be the most personal posting yet, Rose!
In my fruitful searches on my local public library catalogue, using subject terms such as natural birth (or the equivalents thereof), I came across some really cool stuff, including the classic video Birth Without Violence (I am a bit surprised not to find the clip on youtube, but there you are!). The first part of this 3-part dvd is footage of a birth without violence, a method pioneered by French physician Frederick LeBoyer (a rather short wikipedia entry!).
Anyway, Dr. LeBoyer, after delivering about 9,000 births, came to realize that the one neglected being in this entire process happens to be the baby being delivered. In his book (of the same title as the movie), LeBoyer lyrically explores the oft-neglected newborn's sensory, psychological, and emotional state and experience as it comes into the world. It's a beautifully-written (translated, I guess: LeBoyer is a French-trained doctor) account, more literary than scientific.
The bottom line of LeBoyer's argument is that, in what has become the standard way of delivering babies in the western world, the baby is the often the loser. Where we consider it a good sign for the baby to cry its lungs out, the baby is actually often in serious distress, being evacuated from the comfort (in the 'golden state' of gestation) then prison (in later stages) of its mother's womb, the baby, disoriented and exposed to a hyper-sensory experience, is treated inhumanely. It is immediately exposed to bright lights, has its umbilical cord cut, put on a scale, and wrapped in cloth. Instead, says LeBoyer, a normal birth should take place in a quiet (almost silent) environment, softly-lit.
In a birth with no complications (so-called natural childbirth) the baby, once born, is to be placed on its mother's belly with its stomach down (its spine and head are to be treated with caution--the spine because it is not used to supporting anything; the head, because of its being a sensory centre). The umbilical cord, if we follow LeBoyer's method, is not to be cut until it stops pulsating (this way, the baby has access to fresh blood from the placenta as its tiny lungs spring into action). The mother then touches the baby softly. The second stage of the LeBoyer delivery consists of bathing the baby in warm water for a few minutes, letting it playfully explore its new environment.
The first part of the dvd I mentioned is footage (about 20 minutes long) of a LeBoyer birth--a birth without violence. It's an amazing clip; very much recommended.
LeBoyer publicized his method, in book and dvd, in the late 70's or so. After delivering 9,000 babies in the standard way, he proceeded to deliver 1,000 using his method. The film is a beautiful classic. I ended up watching it only after seeing some more contemporary accounts, including the Business of Being Born, which I thought, despite my skepticism when I found out that this is a Ricky Lake production, was an excellent movie.
The premise, counterintuitive to some, of the Business of Being Born and other similar films (such as the Orgasmic Birth -- which has also been released in the last couple of years), is that the standard birth in the hospital, rather than at home, poses unnecessary risks. (By the way, this fellow never fails to make an appearance in all of these films). The idea is that, in standard hospital conditions, the birth is taken over by doctors, nurses, and machines; the woman is unnecessarily offered, and ends up accepting, pain killing drugs; this often leads to putting the baby in distress; the woman gets an epidural and then, often unnecessarily, a risky delivery, including a vacuum-induced birth or C-section; and the baby, which was in danger (because of the interventions, you see), is safely delivered! All of this adds up to an unncessarily traumatic experience for the birthing woman (not to mention the baby!).
The contemporary proponents of natural birth argue that, in normal circumstances, birth is not a medical procedure, but a natural process which the mother's body knows how to go through; that the pain (or intensity) is a normal (and indeed, productive) part of the birth, and is accompanied by a useful hormonal cycle; and that the birth, when done in a comfortable setting, can even be a pleasurable (orgasmic even!) experience. These movies show some amazing birth footage. In some cases, the labour takes hours and hours (a situation which a hospital might treat with some intervention); in others, it is a short process. What all of these births have in common is the satisfaction of the mother's having given birth naturally (there is an interesting--and accidental!--exception to this in the Business of Being Born, which I found balances out the perspective a bit). In addition, the home and natural birth procedure is backed up by impressive statistics of less interventions and C-section deliveries.
(Interestingly, I am yet to see in any of these movies, a case where a mother regrets having given birth at home, or where some condition during the duration of the birth required being transported to a hospital. (The book Home Birth in the Hospital usefully offers multiple stories, though they all take place in the hospital)).
These latest examples of the contemporary natural birthing movement (which has been around for a few decades now: Ina May Gaskin is considered an important pioneer), seem to me, in a way that's typical to our culture, to focus on the mom's individual experience-- sometimes, and here is the kicker, with no real attention paid to the baby! I found this to be especially true in the Business of Being Born, where Ricky Lake is out to rectify her own previous traumatic birth experience by doing it naturally and giving birth in her own bath tub this time around. As the baby safely emerges, she grabs it and emotionally explodes into cries "my baby! my baby!" In contrast to this, LeBoyer writes that the baby should be accepted into the world by his mother with the affirmation 'I am a mother', rather than 'this is my baby.' (Of course, who am I to judge Ricky Lake or, for that matter, any woman (and especially you, Rose!) at the moment of delivery?).
Well, I think I made one or two of my points here, anyway, which have been swirling around in my consciousness. This is a very long entry and the personal stuff, I guess will come sometime later (epic cop out!).
This may be the most personal posting yet, Rose!
In my fruitful searches on my local public library catalogue, using subject terms such as natural birth (or the equivalents thereof), I came across some really cool stuff, including the classic video Birth Without Violence (I am a bit surprised not to find the clip on youtube, but there you are!). The first part of this 3-part dvd is footage of a birth without violence, a method pioneered by French physician Frederick LeBoyer (a rather short wikipedia entry!).
Anyway, Dr. LeBoyer, after delivering about 9,000 births, came to realize that the one neglected being in this entire process happens to be the baby being delivered. In his book (of the same title as the movie), LeBoyer lyrically explores the oft-neglected newborn's sensory, psychological, and emotional state and experience as it comes into the world. It's a beautifully-written (translated, I guess: LeBoyer is a French-trained doctor) account, more literary than scientific.
The bottom line of LeBoyer's argument is that, in what has become the standard way of delivering babies in the western world, the baby is the often the loser. Where we consider it a good sign for the baby to cry its lungs out, the baby is actually often in serious distress, being evacuated from the comfort (in the 'golden state' of gestation) then prison (in later stages) of its mother's womb, the baby, disoriented and exposed to a hyper-sensory experience, is treated inhumanely. It is immediately exposed to bright lights, has its umbilical cord cut, put on a scale, and wrapped in cloth. Instead, says LeBoyer, a normal birth should take place in a quiet (almost silent) environment, softly-lit.
In a birth with no complications (so-called natural childbirth) the baby, once born, is to be placed on its mother's belly with its stomach down (its spine and head are to be treated with caution--the spine because it is not used to supporting anything; the head, because of its being a sensory centre). The umbilical cord, if we follow LeBoyer's method, is not to be cut until it stops pulsating (this way, the baby has access to fresh blood from the placenta as its tiny lungs spring into action). The mother then touches the baby softly. The second stage of the LeBoyer delivery consists of bathing the baby in warm water for a few minutes, letting it playfully explore its new environment.
The first part of the dvd I mentioned is footage (about 20 minutes long) of a LeBoyer birth--a birth without violence. It's an amazing clip; very much recommended.
LeBoyer publicized his method, in book and dvd, in the late 70's or so. After delivering 9,000 babies in the standard way, he proceeded to deliver 1,000 using his method. The film is a beautiful classic. I ended up watching it only after seeing some more contemporary accounts, including the Business of Being Born, which I thought, despite my skepticism when I found out that this is a Ricky Lake production, was an excellent movie.
The premise, counterintuitive to some, of the Business of Being Born and other similar films (such as the Orgasmic Birth -- which has also been released in the last couple of years), is that the standard birth in the hospital, rather than at home, poses unnecessary risks. (By the way, this fellow never fails to make an appearance in all of these films). The idea is that, in standard hospital conditions, the birth is taken over by doctors, nurses, and machines; the woman is unnecessarily offered, and ends up accepting, pain killing drugs; this often leads to putting the baby in distress; the woman gets an epidural and then, often unnecessarily, a risky delivery, including a vacuum-induced birth or C-section; and the baby, which was in danger (because of the interventions, you see), is safely delivered! All of this adds up to an unncessarily traumatic experience for the birthing woman (not to mention the baby!).
The contemporary proponents of natural birth argue that, in normal circumstances, birth is not a medical procedure, but a natural process which the mother's body knows how to go through; that the pain (or intensity) is a normal (and indeed, productive) part of the birth, and is accompanied by a useful hormonal cycle; and that the birth, when done in a comfortable setting, can even be a pleasurable (orgasmic even!) experience. These movies show some amazing birth footage. In some cases, the labour takes hours and hours (a situation which a hospital might treat with some intervention); in others, it is a short process. What all of these births have in common is the satisfaction of the mother's having given birth naturally (there is an interesting--and accidental!--exception to this in the Business of Being Born, which I found balances out the perspective a bit). In addition, the home and natural birth procedure is backed up by impressive statistics of less interventions and C-section deliveries.
(Interestingly, I am yet to see in any of these movies, a case where a mother regrets having given birth at home, or where some condition during the duration of the birth required being transported to a hospital. (The book Home Birth in the Hospital usefully offers multiple stories, though they all take place in the hospital)).
These latest examples of the contemporary natural birthing movement (which has been around for a few decades now: Ina May Gaskin is considered an important pioneer), seem to me, in a way that's typical to our culture, to focus on the mom's individual experience-- sometimes, and here is the kicker, with no real attention paid to the baby! I found this to be especially true in the Business of Being Born, where Ricky Lake is out to rectify her own previous traumatic birth experience by doing it naturally and giving birth in her own bath tub this time around. As the baby safely emerges, she grabs it and emotionally explodes into cries "my baby! my baby!" In contrast to this, LeBoyer writes that the baby should be accepted into the world by his mother with the affirmation 'I am a mother', rather than 'this is my baby.' (Of course, who am I to judge Ricky Lake or, for that matter, any woman (and especially you, Rose!) at the moment of delivery?).
Well, I think I made one or two of my points here, anyway, which have been swirling around in my consciousness. This is a very long entry and the personal stuff, I guess will come sometime later (epic cop out!).
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