Maternal Desire

blue milk has re-posted one of her many fascinating posts.  In this one she discusses maternal desire and claims that it may be as hard to describe maternal desire to someone who hasn't experienced it as it is to describe sexual desire to someone with no libido. This statement brought me back to my very early twenties.

I remember being hit with the physical sensation of maternal desire at 22 or 23.  It was amazingly strong and oftentimes overwhelming.  At the time I likened it to both sexual desire and hunger pains only it was embodied in a different organ.  I felt desire in my uterus.  If you've never felt this than there is no explaining it but once it is there it is difficult to ignore.

I knew I would be a mother for as long as I can remember.  This was a fact I carried around with me the same way I embodied my gender.  I didn't play with dolls when I was young (although I had a large collection of stuffed animals) and I never was (and to this day am still not) much of a baby person.  I don't think all babies are cute or all children are precious.  I wasn't particularly interested in babysitting (except to raise some cash).  I never imagined my wedding or thought much about a husband.  But I knew I would be a mother someday in the future.

In my early twenties I was firmly established in a relationship and had just finished college.  The desire started slowly when I first became an aunt.  It was the first time I had a claim to a child.  I remember being fascinated by my niece (to be honest I remain fascinated by her today, she is extraordinary) in a way I had never been fascinated by a baby before.  In a year or two, the desire started to take hold and I noticed a physical sensation that could not be satisfied in any other way.

This desire propelled me to turn my established relationship into a marriage and, less than a year later, start an aggressive campaign to get pregnant (as is my way I couldn't just start trying, I had to make it a project).  Two months later I had achieved my goal.  Given the physicality of my desire, I assumed I would enjoy pregnancy.  I figured it would be similar to enjoying a good meal after you've fasted.  If I had thought that through I would have realized the error of my ways.  You barely notice food after a sustained hunger and you usually end up eating too much and feeling bloated and uncomfortable afterwards.  That was pretty much my experience with getting and being pregnant.

In an exceptionally blessed and privileged life, being Angel's mother has been the highlight.  Once he was born, I never felt that desire again.  I felt something vaguely similar when he left for college. Luckily I was able to recognize it for what it was: a physical desire to have HIM again, not any random baby.

These days I notice the urge for a grandchild is growing but those feelings are embodied in my arms.

A Month of "Me Time"

A fair amount of my research involves talking to women who are actively mothering their children.  Regardless of their personal situation, they all desire more time to themselves.  They want "me time."  I remember this feeling very well.  It lasted the entire time Angel lived with me.  Granted I had a lot more "me time" once he reached his teens, but there was always an underlying sense that my time was not truly my own.

There were several years where I traveled a lot for my job.  While I missed Angel (and later b) when I was traveling, it was also a relief to have a hotel room all to myself for a few days.  Most of those days I was working and not actually in my hotel room, but knowing it was there waiting for me was a blessing.

Things are different now.  I have a lot of time to call my own.  At the beginning and endings of the semesters the various demands upon me can almost feel like those mothering years but not quite as relentless.

b left for his Alaska Adventure today.  He has 5 days of driving; a day and a half on a ferry; a day to wait for his friend, and then three weeks of paddling before I meet up with him.  This translates into four weeks of me at home alone.

I've never lived alone.  b has done these adventures before but this is the first one since Angel went off to college.  Me time is a lot less precious when you have it in abundance.

I have a lot of work to do in the next four weeks.  My goal is to be caught up and ready for the semester to begin before I leave for vacation.  When I get back I will only have two weeks before classes start and those weeks are notoriously busy with meetings.

So my "Month of Me Time" will consist of writing a grant and getting a backlog of papers out, running two ongoing projects, prepping my fall courses and getting ready for the new cohort of doctoral students.  In between I'll be attending a lot of yoga classes and taking an e-course or two.  Hopefully I'll be posting throughout it all. 

RBOC: Things On My Mind Edition

• Ruth recently posted about coming up against the blogging wall.  She's been blogging for 3 1/2 years and this is the first time she asked the question "why?"  I commented that I was amazed it took this long since I seem to go through it at least once a year.  Currently I'm not asking myself why? but rather why not?  Why am I not posting?  I have ideas.  I procrastinate in other ways.  What is keeping me from writing here?
• In the early years, our children have many developmental milestones.  As parents we are always proud but as they age the opportunity for milestone pride grows increasingly rare. This week I was very proud at my son's first use of the term "hegemonic" in an email. 
• b is the King of Smoothies.  He makes them at night and it always a surprise what is in there. Tonight he claimed it was "brie, bacon and sun-dried tomato" but I knew we didn't have bacon in the house.  He then said they were "Black Death" smoothies.  Whatever it is, it's delicious.
• Blogger has a new gizmo that allows you to create a book from your blog.  I played around with it (but didn't lay down any cash).  One of the nice aspects is that you can choose posts from specific labels.  It was fun to see posts I'd written years ago cataloged by content. Sadly, I realized that my posts have deteriorated in this past year.  I blame tenure and photography. 
• I think yoga is affecting my personality.  Today in class I truly loved my toes.  I was also not only more than happy to appreciate the body I was in but to appreciate my time on this earth. It's going to be an interesting summer.

Owning Your Own Time

When I talk to women who are actively mothering one of their biggest complaints is the lack of "me time."  Being responsible for a small person (or persons) severely reduces the amount of time you can claim as your own.  This seems like a no-brainer until you actually experience it.

The early days of new motherhood are usually overwhelming and surprising.  You're not sure where you're time goes but you are busy falling and being in love.  While I wouldn't say that love fades, there does come a point where you expect to get your life and at least some of your time back but you don't.

Motherhood is also frequently discussed in terms of conflicting demands.  Whatever else you are supposed to be doing (or want to be doing or are compelled to be doing) in addition to mothering your child(ren) is suddenly done less or less well.  Generally speaking, mothers feel their job/craft/art/passion is not getting the attention and time it deserves.  Unfortunately, no matter how much you give them, neither are your children (or at least so it seems).  It is not surprising, therefore, that time for yourself gets the shortest end of this three-sided stick.

But what exactly is "me time?"  For some women it may be the time given to their craft/art/passion (rarely the "job" but possibly the career); for others it is socializing time; possibly shopping or self-care (many women I speak with fantasize about baths and pedicures); for some it is leisure pursuits such as reading or exercise; for some it may even by spending time with their child(ren) that does not include responsibilities.  However I don't think "me time" is defined by an activity or a set of activities but rather by the ability to own your own time; to set a schedule or itinerary around your own desires and needs and not someone else's needs or agenda.

Whether you use "me time" for something that exclusively benefits you is probably irrelevant.  I think it is the power to decide how your time is going to be used and to be able to follow through on that decision.  I think it is the ability to make that decision without guilt or shame or without mentally rejecting the guilt or shame associated with it.

As painful as the adjustment to an empty nest was for me, I am now realizing how freeing it is to truly own my own time.  I count myself particularly lucky (and privileged) to have a career that further extends the agency I have to create my own schedule.  Academia comes with a lot of challenges but a definite perk is that most of my agenda is self-created.

I live with one person who, as a competent adult, does not rely on me for basic necessities nor does he expect me to alter my schedule to meet his needs.  While compromises are made for the sake of the relationship and companionship, his daily needs are not my responsibility; my time is not his to dictate.  Even when Angel became old enough for this to be true for him, the years of mother-training and the obligation I felt (and if I'm completely honest, still feel) towards him and the relationship, did not relieve this burden.

My pets do rely on me for the necessities of their daily life but their needs are so meager that they do not significantly control my time.  And as I mentioned, my job has a great deal of flexibility.  My students certainly demand of my time and attention; the responsibility I feel towards them shapes the way I allocate my time.  Likewise other demands of academia (i.e. committee work) effects my daily schedule and can significantly decrease my sense of "me time."  In fact my stress level is highest when I feel my time is spent on other people's agendas instead of my own, even when I buy into these alternative agendas.

This issue of "me time" has come to the forefront of my thoughts because I've spent the past 2-3 weeks anticipating a birth.  When I am serving as a doula and my "client-mom" is in her window-of-delivery, I don't feel I can really call my time my own.  I feel reluctant to make certain plans or obligations because I want to be available for the birth.  I need to think about what I am doing and what I would need to reschedule should she go into labor that day or the next.  Everything I expect to do (or want to do) on a given day can be completely obliterated without any real notice.  This is something I got used to when Angel was small but I realize now that I have very quickly become un-used to it.

The schools here in SouthLite had about a week of closures due to the last snowstorm.  This effected me only slightly.  It delayed when I could teach my first class and curtailed my activities to my house instead of my office for one day.  For a friend and colleague with school-aged children, it rearranged her entire week.  Another week has since passed and she still has not recovered.

I love being a doula in part because I enjoy being needed.  I like helping people and it is a very concrete way of being helpful and supportive.  For approximately 10-12 hours I can give someone my undivided attention and it can make a huge difference in how they experience their birth.  I also like the time spent with clients leading up to the birth.  I like helping women sort out their feelings and thoughts on birth; being a sounding board and an educator; and mostly importantly, helping to relieve some of the stress and anxiety many women experience anticipating labor.  However the more accustomed I get to owning the majority of my own time, the harder it gets to freely give that up for another person.  

What I'm Doing When I'm Not Writing My Grant

• Reviewing other people's work
• Having lunch out with b
• Filling out my annual report (and realizing I did a lot more this year than I thought)
• Deflating my balance ball/office chair so we can return it to the store
• Going to the library for an early start on next year's syllabus
• Following interesting blog conversations on mothering, feminism and power. Check them out.

Doula Training Update

To become a certified doula I have to attend childbirth classes and a breastfeeding class in addition to the actual doula workshop I attended. Of course I will also need to serve as a doula for three births (only one of which can be a cesarean to count), read 5 books, write up my birth stories as well as an essay on the importance of being a doula. So it is no small process.

Luckily the program for teen moms in my area makes a lot of this possible and I don't need to arrange all of the logistics. This past Thursday we started our 7-week childbirth classes. The class is actually much smaller than usual, with only 7 or 8 teen moms (and 13 doulas-in-training!). I was hoping to get matched up with one of the girls as a mentor but alas they're aren't enough to go around. Pumpkin did get matched and I'm very happy for her. She is the type of person that needs a connection to make it real.

The first session was more of a meet and greet with paperwork so it wasn't much fun, however next week we get our actual childbirth educator. This morning I went to a 3 hour breast feeding class. Most teens don't breastfeed and while its not our job to persuade them it is our job to support them in their decision and to give them the information they need to make that decision. The discussion today brought back many memories for me. I loved breastfeeding but was not well supported. It came very easy to me, so all of the problems I heard about today were surprising. However I weaned Angel at 4 months even though I didn't really want to and I've always regretted that decision. I had been back to work for 2 months by then and had no support for pumping and storing in the office. It seemed like I was making things worse for all three of us (me, Angel and his dad who was home with him during the day). When I made the decision I was under the impression I'd have at least one more child and thought I'd be in a different position when that happened (one that supported breastfeeding). Unfortunately that never materialized.

I thought I'd share this poem by Sharon Olds on childbirth. Its been on my mind with all that I hear and see in these trainings.

The Language of the Brag

I have wanted excellence in the knife-throw,

I have wanted to use my exceptionally strong and accurate arms

and my straight posture and quick electric muscles

to achieve something at the centre of a crowd,

the blade piercing the bark deep,

the haft slowly and heavily vibrating like the cock.

I have wanted some epic use for my excellent body,

some heroism, some American achievement

beyond the ordinary for my extraordinary self,

magnetic and tensile, I have stood by the sandlot

and watched the boys play.

I have wanted courage, I have thought about fire

and the crossing of waterfalls, I have dragged around

my belly big with cowardice and safely,

my stool black with iron pills,

my huge breasts oozing mucus,

my legs swelling, my hands swelling,

my face swelling and darkening, my hair

falling out, my inner sex

stabbed again and again with terrible pain like a knife.

I have lain down.

I have lain down and sweated and shaken

and passed blood and feces and water and

slowly alone in the centre of a circle I have

passed the new person out

and they have lifted the person free of the act

and wiped the new person free of that

language of blood like praise all over the body.

I have done what you wanted to do, Walt Whitman,

Allen Ginsberg, I have done this thing,

I and the other women this exceptional

act with the exceptional heroic body,

this giving birth, this glistening verb,

and I am putting my proud American boast

right here with the others.

-Sharon Olds

Wonders Never Cease

Angel called today and asked if I hadn't received his 2 phone calls from yesterday (I hadn't because the younger generation no longer believes in leaving voicemail but rather "missed call" is supposed to clue you in to call them back--I rarely check my phone for missed calls). He was calling to say that he was thinking of stopping in for a visit this weekend. But now he's not so sure. Seems he has a tickle in the back of his throat and possibly a wisdom tooth coming in.

We still may be getting a visit but he won't know until tomorrow (when he wakes up and sees how he feels). I was rather blase in my response--since it seemed/seems rather up in the air and I don't really want to get my hopes up or change my plans (ok my plans all involve work but still). The most amazing part of the entire exchange was that he got insulted I wasn't acting more excited.

It is an exceedingly delicate balance with grown (or almost grown) children--like dancing on the head of a pin.

I told him I would love a visit from him (which of course is an understatement) and that seemed to satisfy. We'll see what happens.

On rereading this post I realize that there isn't another man in the world I would allow to treat me this way. I did once and that was with...oh right...his father.

What Exactly Is Feminist Mothering?

This week I received the proofs for a chapter I have coming out in a book celebrating the 20th anniversary of Sara Ruddick's Maternal Thinking: Towards a Politic of Peace. The chapter represents a stretch for me in terms of professional writing and I'm happy with how it turned out. This same week I also read this post over at Hoyden About Town and this response post at Blue Milk--both on the practices of feminist mothering (you may want to take some time right now to read them...I think you will enjoy the posts and the comments). I also took part in a survey on feminist mothering that I saw referenced on Blue Milk. Needless to say all of this has gotten me thinking about feminist mothering this week and I have to say: I'm very confused. Did something happen to feminism generally and to feminist mothering specifically while I was busy doing other things?

For those of you who haven't read Maternal Thinking, Ruddick makes the claim that (a) engaging in the practice of mothering (which she does NOT define as exclusively female) creates a unique way of thinking--the same as the engagement in any other practice creates a unique thought process (i.e. lawyers end up thinking like lawyers); (b) maternal practice ultimately consists of three factors--preservation, nurturance, and training; and (c) since the definition of training is preparing your child to be socially acceptable--as defined by the social groups to which the mother is a member--there are multiple instances where the tasks are in conflict and mothers must figure out how to resolve these conflicts. For example, raising your son to be a soldier, if this is the socially acceptable adult role in a woman's social group, is in direct conflict with the task of preservation. It is the resolution of these conflicts that forces mothers to think and, thereby, creates maternal thought. Now Ruddick also speaks of maternal inauthenticity--when these conflicts arise and mothers are not true to their own beliefs. However she notes:

"It is not when they submit or are prudent or timid that mothers are inauthentic. It is when they loose sight of the cost of prudence, deny their timidity, and tell their children that unquestioning obedience is actually right. Inauthenticity is a matter of form, not content."

To me, being authentic in this sense is feminist mothering. It is not whether we do or do not make concessions to the established order--to the institution of motherhood, as Rich would phrase it--but when we are false with our children and pretend what we believe is not valid, is not true.

However my other run-ins with definitions of feminist mothering this week seem to center on what I would term mothering (or even parenting) tasks--not practices--and many of these tasks seem to be related to styles of parenting (i.e. attachment parenting--which I freely admit I don't know enough about to discuss in an intelligent fashion) or even to other belief systems and practices (i.e. environmentalism). Now I have nothing against either attachment parenting (what little I know of it leads me to believe I would have endorsed it when Angel was small) or environmental practices but I don't think that is what defines feminist mothering (assuming we believe this term is meaningful--as opposed to their being people who are feminist and who mother--which is more how I think I would describe myself).

I also need to say that this post is not in response to either Lauredhel's or Blue Milk's thoughtful posts or any of the comments on their blogs, but rather as a response to the original post that generated their posts and, mainly, to the survey on feminist motherhood that I completed. I can do no better justice to the original post than Lauredhel herself, so I will put that aside. However the survey bothered me and I feel I can discuss it here. Again, I must start by applauding the researchers' efforts to study feminism and motherhood but I found it incredibly difficult to answer the survey. Below is a description of my main problems:

• The survey represented motherhood as only consisting of the mothering of young children and did not acknowledge that some of us are mothers of grown children, yet our practices and attitudes may still hold some value.
• Items of mothering practices revolved around specific tasks like breastfeeding, bed-sharing, and keeping children on a strict schedule. Given my definition of feminist mothering above, I don't see that there is necessarily any association between these tasks and a person's identity as a feminist. Take breastfeeding, for instance. The question asked (as I best recall) what length of time you felt breastfeeding was beneficial (it also asked how a "typical feminist" would respond--more on that later). Now there is quite a lot of data out there on the health benefits of breastfeeding for both mother and child and there are also recommendations for length of breastfeeding. However there are many reasons why woman either choose not to breastfeed or stop breastfeeding earlier than recommended time frames, would this mean she is not a feminist?
• A significant portion of the survey was devoted to the percentage of time the person spent engaged in household tasks, including but not limited to early childcare tasks (i.e. diaper changing, getting up in the middle of the night). While I understand that equality in household and childcare tasks is a feminist issue, I don't think it is associated with feminist beliefs or identity. That is, there are many women who identify as feminist and who hold (so-called) feminist beliefs but still end up engaged in more than 50% of these tasks on a daily basis. I believe the reasons for this involve deep-seated gender constructions that we all hold (even us feminists) and, more importantly, shape our institutions. Rallying against them is a battle most of us (especially those with small children) are too tired to take on on a daily basis. Now keep in mind that the stated purpose of the study is to learn more about how women feel about the relationship between feminism and motherhood. I'm not convinced that looking at associations between feminist identity, mothering practices, and time spent engaged in house/childcare work is going to provide that understanding.
• What exactly is "a typical feminist"? By asking me to rate responses to all of these items as a typical feminist would, you are assuming that I believe feminist are a homogeneous group. Would a feminist believe that?

So this post has turned into a bit of a rant and I feel bad if it sounds like I'm trashing this research. There is so little research out there on this subject and I do not know the specific aims of the study, nor do I think I was the correct demographic for completing the survey, so I don't want to appear unfair. It was more that trying to answer the questions was frustrating for me and it brought to the forefront these questions I have about the concept of feminist mothering. It seems I thought I knew what it meant, to me at least, but now I'm thinking there is another definition out there and it seems a bit too narrow for my comfort.

Feminist Mothering

blue milk is one of my all-time favorite blogs. She has a standing set of questions on feminism and mothering that I have always meant to answer and it seems I finally have. Some of the questions seem strange to me, since I am on the "other side" of mothering, but I did my best. I wonder if others who are no longer actively mothering have attempted this?

1.How would you describe your feminism in one sentence? When did you become a feminist? Was it before or after you became a mother?

One sentence? That's tough. Let's see. I live life under the assumption that men and women have equal rights to the resources we all need, want and use to live and flourish. I live life under the assumption that the same rights exist for any human regardless of the category we wish to assign the individual. In my daily existence I believe that how we do gender matters and I try to voice how it matters. See I knew I couldn't do it in a sentence.

I was raised a feminist. I grew up in the 70's. My mother left my father, went back to school, found a set of like-minded although younger and more radical friends, bought me "Free To Be You and Me" and took me to teen NOW meetings. I spent my teens and early 20s reading feminist literature and feeling angry.

Motherhood didn't make me a feminist, rather it, and my first marriage, set my feminism back several decades.

2. What has surprised you most about motherhood?

The intensity of my feelings and being both completely adored and needed by one person. I was used to feeling needed but not adored--not loved so unconditionally and so intensely. It was a love affair like no other and it threw me. It also saved me--emotionally. I was forced to deal with issues I had previously never recognized.

What surprises me now is that the love affair is over. I've been effectively (but sweetly) dumped. I know I should have but I didn't see it coming.

3. How has your feminism changed over time? What is the impact of motherhood on your feminism?

My feminism has changed dramatically over the years. The anger has significantly abated. I have a deeper understanding of the issues, mostly due to the luxury of a job where I am paid to research and ponder questions of gender, race and class. I am both more and less optimistic about change happening: more because the longer I live the more I can see the small changes and believe they mean something; less because I no longer believe radical change and revolution are trustworthy or all that beneficial.

As I mentioned, initially motherhood set me back. I was young and I believe many young people become rigid out of fear. They hold onto the roles and identities they have just discovered with dear life so they don't lose their new and bitterly earned sense of self. In thinking I was defying traditional roles of mother and wife I ended up embracing them. However it was also motherhood that snapped me out of it. It was a desire to be true to myself in front of my son--to let him know the Brigindo that I like best--that led me to find my voice as a mother and to discover what it could mean to be a feminist mother.

4. What makes your mothering feminist? How does your approach differ from a non-feminist mother’s? How does feminism impact upon your parenting?

I find it hard to distinguish what makes my mothering feminist from what makes me feminist. Perhaps it is because I've been mothering for over 19 years now and I can no longer see where one identity ends and another begins. My mothering is feminist because I am a feminist and I bring a feminist outlook to everything I do.

In some ways I believe my mothering has always been feminist, however as I mentioned previously I also feel that when I first became a wife and a mother my feminism took several steps backwards. So how do I reconcile this? My initial clinging to the role of perfect mother and wife set-back my feminism but my approach to raising my son was always that of Rich's "outlaw to the institution of motherhood."

From the beginning I refused to alter how we interacted, how our relationship developed--its mutuality and interdependence--in spite of some fierce criticism and social pressure. I was told I was raising a mama's boy and that he would never leave (Ha! I wish). In the early years I ALWAYS felt I was doing the wrong thing I just couldn't do it any other way. In many ways I did raise a mama's boy (he actually announced it proudly at a dinner party once when he was 13...you should have seen the adults' faces as they tried not to comment or laugh) however it seems I raised a very independent one. I also appear to have raised a feminist. Go figure.

5. Do you ever feel compromised as a feminist mother? Do you ever feel you’ve failed as a feminist mother?

Generally I don't "do failure." Not that I don't make mistakes, I make plenty but I tend to reframe them in my mind. I'm more likely to see them as learning experiences or as who I had to be to get to where I am now. I try to be very generous with myself. I think everyone should be.

But perhaps explaining why I feel my feminism took a backseat when I first became a mother is a better answer to this question. When I first had Angel I was the main breadwinner in my family. We both knew I had to go back to work as soon as possible (after 2 months of paid leave) and become the sole breadwinner. My ex stayed home with the baby during the day and taught martial arts (for very little or no pay) at night. I would come home and take over the parenting at night. I also attempted to take class with my ex at the dojo, with Angel running around, but if things got too unruly Angel and I would have to go home.

Mr. Mom was a fairly unusual arrangement 20 years ago and I thought it confirmed my feminism. Instead I worked nonstop as breadwinner and mother (and still tried to be #1 student in the dojo whenever possible). In many ways I overcompensated for not being home during the day by trying to the perfect mom at nights and on weekends. Did I mentioned I did all the cooking and cleaning too? Yeah, not so feminist of an approach.

6. Has identifying as a feminist mother ever been difficult? Why?

To be honest I don't remember ever having difficulty identifying as a feminist. I can't imagine people meeting me and not recognizing me as a feminist mother. Perhaps this wasn't as strong when I was a young mother. People, especially older men, tend to assume all sorts of things about young women. My life was pretty frazzled and intense then so I don't remember if I had these difficulties. Most likely I was too tired to notice.

7. Motherhood involves sacrifice, how do you reconcile that with being a feminist?

I believe being a family means being willing to make sacrifices as well as compromises. To me understanding that need is what it means to be in relationship with another person--whether that is a partner or a child. Healthy families recognize that there is a balance that needs to be achieved between individual level needs, relationship (dyadic) needs, and family system needs and they actively work at trying to achieve that balance (of course they don't always manage it). So sometimes people make personal sacrifices and sometimes there are relationship sacrifices and sometimes there are family sacrifices. For this to work, you have to be willing to let others in the family make sacrifices for you. I think the hegemony of motherhood often stops us from allowing others to sacrifice for us. So I guess the answer to the question is that it has taken me a long time to understand that "motherhood means sacrifice" does not mean mothers are solely responsible for sacrifice. I think this is an important feminist principle. In fact I would probably argue that the phrase "motherhood means sacrifice" is decidedly unfeminist.

8. If you have a partner, how does your partner feel about your feminist motherhood? What is the impact of your feminism on your partner?

My partners have always been proud of my feminism. My ex, however, only liked it when it didn't infringe upon what he felt were his rights or his pleasures. While there were instances where we would clash over my feminist mothering, they were few and far between. Mostly we didn't clash. This is because I had not learned the lesson outlined above and embraced sacrifice. Once I stopped embracing it I had to leave.

My current partner is 180 degrees different. I honestly have no idea how my feminism has impacted him. I think you'd need to ask him that question. I know he thinks our son is amazing and that it is all because of me. I know he refuses to acknowledge the importance of his own parenting and I doubt he would analyze it in terms of feminism. I know I wish he was my son's biological father and that we could have shared him from the beginning.

9. If you’re an attachment parenting mother, what challenges if any does this pose for your feminism and how have you resolved them?

Yeah, I'm not really too up on the whole attachment parenting thing. I think the term (and maybe the practice) came into vogue a little to late for me. However my son grew up by my side; he was allowed in my bed when he wanted until he stopped at around 6; I took him out of school so he could travel with me for work on numerous occasions; and I let him know at all times that I was physically and emotionally there for him. I'm not sure how closely that resembles attachment parenting but I got a lot of flak for it (see above answer about raising a dependent mama's boy). In the beginning I felt guilty but couldn't see any other way of being his mother. Eventually I realized I was right and they were wrong and stopped worrying about it. Now that he's grown I've told him about the reactions I got and he's flabbergasted that any one have doubted that it was the right approach for him. Then he laughs and tells me that we showed them.

But I'm not understanding why this would pose a challenge to my feminism? Perhaps I am misunderstanding the phrase. To me being a feminist mother is ignoring the hegemonic discourse of motherhood and following the path that you believes works for yourself and your child. If that means living a life that on the surface looks "unfeminist" (as in being a SAHM?), who cares? People who think feminism resides in actions such as paid employment or wearing sensible shoes really don't understand feminism.

10. Do you feel feminism has failed mothers and if so how? Personally, what do you think feminism has given mothers?

Again, I'd rather avoid the whole "failure" discussion. Perhaps feminism had to take the stances it took and make the mistakes it made to get to the point where it is now. For me that point is to go beyond simplistic views of feminist action and to own up to mothering as a critical feminist issue. However I also believe that if we want to deconstruct the weight and pressure of hegemonic motherhood we need to be willing to truly share the power of mothering with our partners (not just the chores or the nurturing).

Yes motherhood provides women a power--while at the same time as it exposes our powerlessness--that is normally kept from us. I believe that expecting women to give that up without providing opportunity for real power is unrealistic and foolish but I also believe that thinking womenkind can find true power by ignoring motherhood is equally as foolish and it hurts the very people you are trying to advance.

On Empty Nesting

I've been struggling with understanding the issues around this phase of motherhood. When I struggle with something on both a personal and an intellectual level I usually try to find answers in literature. However I have had very little success for this subject. I haven't found any relevant social science or pop culture or even a good self-help book that really explains for me what is going on. The research literature is also fairly silent when it comes to transitioning out of active mothering.

I have not found many blogs that address this end of the mommy spectrum, perhaps because blogging brings in a younger crowd and most mothers who blog still have very small children at home. It seems there is no empty nest community. Sometimes I think I'm over-reacting; that I am somehow pathologizing this experience; maybe it is just me who is making this a major transition in my life. Its not a horrible one (well at times it is) but it feels pretty damned significant. Other times I think about all the other experiences and transitions women have lived through that were never discussed (think menopause, date rape, and breast cancer). Lack of community doesn't necessarily make an event less real or less universal. Yet the studies I have found in the scientific literature tell me that most women, contrary to folklore, experience few negative emotions and many look forward and enjoy this time. So maybe it is just me.

The entry into motherhood is well represented. You can find support (and it is needed) in a variety of places and you can find information--some of it good, loads of it poor--on various aspect of this important transitional stage. However everything that I've found on "the empty nest" syndrome sounds placating and insufficient. I'm supposed to feel "blue" and "have the weepies" for a few weeks and then I'll be magically over it. I've also noticed that women who are actively mothering are not comfortable discussing it. I believe it is painful to even consider how you will feel when your time comes. I know I hated to think about it previously.

I realize that I'm still square in the middle of this and that my thoughts will probably change over time, however I wanted to try and sort a few of them out here, while I'm still experiencing it all. If you are at the stage where it is too painful to consider life as an inactive mother or if your world is so overwhelmed with childcare issues that you can't imagine why anyone would see this as a problem to be addressed, you may want to skip this post. However, it may be those people who need to read it the most.

One thing I've realized is that mothers (and I use the term loosely, in that I mean individuals who take a primary role in the emotional and physical caring and nurturing of a child they claim as their own--an individual's sex has nothing to do with mothering, except for the fact that it is still primarily the female sex that takes on this role) spend their lives learning their children. It is a knowledge that goes so deep and becomes so entwined with who you are that you no longer see it as knowledge. We spend a considerable amount of our time figuring out why our child did or didn't do something; what our child may be thinking or feeling or believing and why. We learn what our child likes to eat and how he or she likes to eat it. We learn all the incredibly intimate details of our children's daily worlds.

Intimacy through knowledge does not only belong to the mother-child relationship, our relationships with our partners can also include an incredibly rich and detailed knowledge of the other, especially in long-term relationships. However there are several differences, a big one being that our partners can speak for themselves (well hopefully) and care for themselves while our children (at first) cannot. So we learn to listen to them in a way we do not listen to any other person in our lives. We strive to understand them because we want to help them and because they fascinate us. We look for ourselves and our loved ones within our children. We also constantly look for who our child will be--we see glimpses of our future child.

Growing up under this scrutiny, our children also study us but they don't see us. They study us for the reasons that all people in the underdog position of a power-imbalanced relationship study their superiors--that knowledge can save them from us. The result is an incredibly intimate relationship (the relationship can be healthy or unhealthy but it still remains at a level of intimacy we rarely experience elsewhere). When I say our children don't see us I mean they can see us only as mothers not as individuals, at least initially. Not being able to see us as individuals they are completely unaware of their true power to harm us. They are aware of a superficial level of that power--and many will try out that power by screaming "I hate you" at the top of their lungs one day--but they are oblivious to the harm they cause by becoming their own person and stepping out of that intimacy; by seeking that intimacy elsewhere.

So what happens when they do leave? There is a hole that is left that no other relationship seems capable of replacing. I suppose some people do start "mothering" their partners but that seems, to me, to be (a) a poor substitute and (b) both insulting and unfair to a partner who is a fully grown and functional adult. Other people mother their pets; some refuse to stop mothering their grown children (think helicopter parent here); and some push their children to have grandchildren. I'm sure there are myriad other approaches or strategies but I haven't found a satisfactory one yet.

But lets think about that hole a bit more. The knowledge that we accumulate about our children is no longer necessary and soon becomes obsolete. Your child's favorite snack is no longer a staple on your shopping list. And your child will most likely develop new tastes and favorites that he or she would never think it important to tell you about. Other people will know his or her intimate details and will understand the person your child is becoming in ways you will never again. Now that is not to say that people don't stay the same. There will be knowledge that will continue to be useful; there will be sides of your child that probably only you will know (of course for many years these will be embarrassing to your child so you won't be able to use them anyway). However I believe people change as much as they stay the same. As individuals we realign our personal narrative to allow for change; we create more continuity than I believe is really there.

But we still own the knowledge and have no place to put it. We also have spent years being concerned about our child's welfare. As mothers we worry. This worrying is an activity. It takes up a certain amount of our time and of our emotional energy. What do you do with this worry when it is no longer applicable? As it turns out, it doesn't go away on its own (at least it hasn't for me yet). I wrote in an earlier post about being on the beach last summer with Angel and losing track of him. I thought he was in the water and the ocean was crowded. I couldn't see him anywhere and fell into default mode of imagining him in danger, knowing full well this was irrational. Angel was just in Costa Rica when the recent earthquake hit. Again, rationally I knew he was fine and that I didn't NEED to worry about him but my entire mood changed once I knew he had landed back in the States. I have also come to the recent realization that soon I won't be the first person called when something goes wrong. He will (a) know how to handle things on his own and (b) have other people--more intimate relationships--to call and reassure first. But the reaction doesn't turn off. There's just no where to put it, at least no where that is considered appropriate.

If your partner was suddenly no longer in your life as your partner (which unfortunately happens frequently) you would feel many emotions, such as hurt and anger and despair. If you are the person left you would probably feel abandoned and lonely. With time those feelings would begin to lessen. Let's say you've even managed to stay friends with your partner and the two of you enjoy a very different but satisfying relationship. At some point you would realize that you might not miss the person but you might miss being in a partnered relationship. You miss the shared intimacy; the small everyday things you do together that make up your world. You would realize that you can find this with someone else and you would look for it. When your child leaves the relationship, even if you manage to readjust your relationship, even if you have a satisfactory level and quality of contact, you miss being in a mothering relationship; you miss that intimacy. However no one is telling you to go out and find another (although admittedly this is the approach I took with Pumpkin). Instead the message is to find yourself; enjoy the free time; enjoy your partner. But what if you had already found yourself? Have been enjoying your partner? Don't particularly need more free time? How many hobbies can one have, really?

We don't have the language for the relationship between mothers and their grown children. We use the phrase "my child" to mean both the person that you are raising--who happens to be a child--and the person that you raised. However the person that you raised is not a child. In a sense you are always a mother--even if your child should die, you are still a mother. And I find people like to remind you of that fact when you are no longer, what I phrase, "actively mothering." They say it to reassure you that your identity hasn't changed but in fact it has. My identity as an active mother is far different than my identity as an inactive one. Retirement is not the same as employment. When I retire I will still be a professor but it will not be the same. And my relationship with Angel as an adult is very different from my relationship with him when he was a child. There is no way around it and it is a good thing for him. My point here is that I have gone through (am going through) a transition of the same magnitude as the one I went through becoming a mother, however the line between not being a mother and being a mother was sharply defined then whereas now it is blurry.

In my professional life I've heard a lot of talk about the problems associated with not having "coming-of-age" rituals for adolescents and young adults. We, as a society (although some cultures still have strong and meaningful rituals), no longer clearly mark the distinction between childhood and adulthood. We also, due to economic conditions, have been prolonging the time people spend in this quasi-dependent state. It may be a problem for young people; I believe the way we view adolescence in general is highly problematic for young people. Perhaps it is also a problem for mothers. The lack of a distinct boundary and a recognized mechanism for crossing that boundary, might be leaving some mothers suffering in silence and creating solutions that may or may not be healthy for them in the long run.

Passages

She had been thinking, and the thought came back like the turntable coming round, that it was hard, or anyway she found it hard, to realize that what you did was usually just done once. Once and for all. That doing something wasn't just a kind of practice for something that would keep happening, but was what would happen, was what happened. You didn't get to practice.
-Ursula K. Le Guin

I stumbled across this paragraph a few weeks ago. As I've mentioned, I'm re-reading my way through my Le Guin collection. This was in a book of short stories and it struck me because it sums up a lot of how I've been feeling about motherhood lately.

Mothering in the Academy

I went to a presentation at my university the other day. It seems we have resurrected a committee who's sole charge is to examine the non-insurance benefits to faculty and staff. This is a good thing. It came about because two women, one faculty and one staff, who are both mothers of young children, had horrendous experiences finding childcare. They created separate reports on the lack of family-friendly initiatives in our university, comparing our policies and benefits with other universities both inside and outside our system.

Both reports recommend that the committee examines the possibility of offering daycare and lactation rooms as well as tuition reimbursement benefits for children and spouses and to re-examine the family leave policy (for children and other family members). Now most of these benefits and policies have no bearing on my current life (except for tuition reimbursement), which I believe explains my total lack of knowledge of our policies before attending this presentation.

I have to be honest and admit I never gave the need for a lactation room a thought--either before being hired or since. However, having had it brought to my attention I do care greatly. I especially care when I heard that a few months ago our library had an "extra room" available (when is there ever unclaimed space in a university?) and was asking for suggestions on how to use it. Someone suggested a lactation room (a relatively easy room to create and maintain) but it was turned down. I do not know what the room became.

I also care when I hear that staff get a maximum of 2 months leave that is financed by using all of their sick and vacation time. This, of course, leaves them no allowed time to take when their children become ill and can't go to daycare. Faculty can also get 2 months paid leave (we don't get sick or vacation time) but only if they can negotiate a deal with their department. This deal usually depends upon coming up with solutions for covering your classes. Now I've read enough in academic blogs to know this is not unusual but that doesn't make it right. It is also really no different than my experiences with both maternity leave and childcare almost 19 years ago.

It also is not right that the last time this committee was in existence they decided not to pursue childcare options because a survey they conducted found only 200 people on campus responded that they would use the service. Now it seems pretty clear to me that this is not a simple fact of what benefits would our current staff/faculty want but rather how do we recruit and retain quality staff/faculty who have very real family-work balance needs? Also if you asked me if I would use a service such as this I would have to say no but if you ask me if I feel our university should have such a benefit I would say yes, even over other benefits that would benefit me personally. Answers change dramatically based on how you word them and just because I no longer need childcare doesn't mean I want other women to be forced into draconian choices.

But what bothered me most of all? That it took 2 women, with small children at home and already busy jobs at work, to conduct all the legwork needed to create these reports that led to the reinstatement of the committee and its charge. And on top of that one of the 2 women, the faculty member (untenured, I believe), is now chair of the committee.

So yes all kudos and respect to these remarkable women for leading the charge and to my university for listening to them and taking them seriously. And hopefully we will see a change. However why does the burden of work always have to fall on those who are already burdened? And why does that always turn out to be the women?

As a last note, one of the women, in telling her story of childcare woe, mentioned that for the first year or so at this job her husband was a stay-at-home dad. However he finally realized that it was too much work and went out and found himself a job. According to her story he called her on a Thursday afternoon with an offer that started on Monday. She then had only a few days to find childcare for her kids. Now I couldn't help but think why was that HER job? If a stay-at-home mom suddenly found a job, wouldn't she need to find the childcare? Or better yet, isn't that something they should be doing together?

And my students argue with me that there is no power differential by gender in our country any more.

Motherhood

My research is very applied. That means I do research on specific issues in order to develop ways to intervene with those issues. I then develop an actual intervention and evaluate how well it works.

Two of my current research topics involves mothering. Yesterday was the first meeting of some intervention work I'm doing in the community with mothers. It is a slow process and will probably take many years before (if) it sees fruition. In the meantime, I really enjoy my mothers.

I was driving to the community site to set up for the group and heard my phone ring deep inside my bag on the back seat. I hate talking on the phone while I drive and couldn't reach it, so I figured it could wait until I got to my destination. Not five minutes later it rang again. Either someone really wanted me or two people wanted me--either one indicates something is up (I'm not a big phone person so I don't get a lot of calls).

I parked outside of the location and dug around for my phone. First call was from Angel; second from b. Only b left a message. It was "call me at work." When I called he started with "First, your son is ok..." So not a good start of a phone call but a good way to convey bad news.

And it really wasn't that bad. Angel fell while playing soccer and split his chin (6 stitches) and broke his wrist. He had been to Urgent Care but still needed to see an Orthopedist for a cast. I hung up with b and called Angel to get the full story and give some motherly attention. I guess it was the long distance/grown-up version of kissing the boo-boo.

Then I went inside and met with my mothers.

Pez

For those of you who are interested in just how the mothering role changes when your child has left home I will share with you my impressions. I have become this:


or this:


or perhaps even this:

Except instead of bland tasting candy, I dispense advice.

It seems Angel need only press a little lever (or IMs me, whichever is easiest) to make my head pop open and out shoots bite-sized pellets of advice on writing essays, teaching martial arts and joining fraternities (the last one is so incredibly comical since I never even attended a school with a sorority or fraternity, no less thought about joining one).

It seems there is no end to the topics on which I will pretend some type of expertise just to keep the conversation going.

Color me Pez.