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Birth Fear

“…if you want to know where a woman’s true power lies, look to those primal experiences we’ve been taught to fear…the very same experiences the culture has taught us to distance ourselves from as much as possible, often by medicalizing them so that we are barely conscious of them anymore. Labor and birth rank right up there as experiences that put women in touch with their feminine power…” -Christiane Northrup

Since it was just Halloween, I wanted to re-post some things about fear and birth that I shared on another blog a couple of years ago. I encounter a lot of women who are very scared of birth, particularly of the pain of birth. Grantly Dick-Read’s Fear-Tension-Pain cycle has influenced the teachings of most natural birth educators and most people readily connect to the idea that fear leads to elevated tension in body which leads to increased pain (more about fear-tension-pain in a linked post below).

One of my favorite birth books, Birthing from Within, has several sections about coping with fear. The author’s idea is that by naming fears and looking them in the eye rather than denying they exist, you shift your thinking from frozen, fear-based, thoughts to more fluid, adaptable coping-mechanisms. There is a useful handout based on her ideas available at the Transition to Parenthood site.

I also think of this quote from Jennifer Block:

Why is it that the very things that cause birth related morbidity rates to rise are seen as the ‘safe’ way to go? Why aren’t women and their doctors terrified of the chemicals that are dripped into their spines and veins—the same substances that have been shown to lead to more c-sections? Why aren’t they worried about the harm these drugs might be doing to the future health of their children, as some studies are indicating might be the case? Why aren’t they afraid of picking up drug-resistant staphylococcus infections in the hospital? And why, of all things, aren’t women terrified of being cut open?

I actually was afraid of these things, which is part of why I didn’t go to a hospital to have my babies!

I hope some day all women will be able to greet birth with confidence and joy, instead of fear and anxiety. This does NOT mean denying the possibility of interventions or that cesareans can save lives. And, it also doesn’t mean just encouraging women to “trust birth.” Indeed, I  read a relevant quote in the textbook Childbirth Education: Research, Practice, & Theory: “…if women trust their ability to give birth, cesarean birth is not viewed as a failure but as a sophisticated intervention in response to their bodies’ protection of the baby.”

Here are some more good quotes from Childbirth without Fear:

A well–prepared woman, not ignorant of the processes of birth, is still subject to all the common interventions of the hospital environment, much of which places her under unnecessary stress and disrupts the neuromuscular harmony of her labor.

It is for this reason that thousands of women across the country are staying home to give birth…Women are choosing midwives as attendants, and choosing birth centers and birthing rooms, in order to regain the peaceful freedom to ‘flow with’ their own labors without the stress of disruption and intervention. Pictures on the wall and drapes on the window do not mask the fact that a woman is less free to be completely herself in the hospital environment, even in a birthing room. The possibility of her being disturbed is still there.

The women in labor must have NO STRESS placed upon her. She must be free to move about, walk, rock, go to the bathroom by herself, lie on her side or back, squat or kneel, or anything she finds comfortable, without fear of being scolded or embarrassed. Nor is there any need for her to be either ‘quiet’ or ‘good.’ What is a ‘good’ patient? One who does whatever she is told—who masks all the stresses she is feeling? Why can she not cry, or laugh, or complain?

When a woman in labor knows that she will not be disturbed, that her questions will be answered honestly and every consideration given her, then she will be better able to relax and give birth with her body’s neuromuscular perfection intact. The presence of her loving husband and/or a supportive attendant will add to her feelings of security and peace, so she can center upon the task at hand.

Childbirth without Fear was originally written in the 1940′s. The quotes above are just as relevant and true today.

Related posts:
Fear & Birth
Fears about birth and losing control

Fathers, Fear, and Birth
Fear-Tension-Pain or Excitement-Power-Progress?
Cesarean Birth in a Culture of Fear Handout
Worry is the Work of Pregnancy

Motherhood as Meditation

I sometimes use my blog as a way to “store” things that I’ve read and want to remember later–or, come back to and re-discover later. I’m slowly making my way through a book called Meditation Secrets for Women and this morning I read the following:

…a mother is naturally drawn into simplicity meditations when she has small children. A hundred times a day you are forced to surrender, to slow down and pay attention…A mother must continually let go, not only of rigid scheduling but in the deepest movement of her heart. The maternal bond is a powerful primordial instinct…Each day is a little death and a challenge to live in trust. When a mother learns to accept this process and allows herself to be changed by it, her heart is softened and stretched. This demonstrates again how women’s awareness of the preciousness of life leads us into a natural spirituality that does not have to be manufactured or enforced.

I was just thinking on Friday about just how many things I let go of every day. It is still painful to do–I’m not softened and stretched enough yet, I guess–but I also feel impressed with my own ability to accommodate and enfold. Knowing how many letting gos are required daily also doesn’t stop me from starting out the next day with just as many plans as the day before though.

I’m experimenting with making this post using my phone…did it work?!

Related posts:
Surrender?
Book Review: Mindful Motherhood
Book Review: 10 Steps to Joy and Inner Peace for Mothers
Breastfeeding Toward Enlightenment
How to meditate with a baby

20111030-124905.jpg
My baby zen master 🙂

Integrated Mama

Alaina turned nine months old this week and I again found myself wishing to make a new polymer clay goddess sculpture to capture this new phase in our life cycle. I’m interested by how I began this series during my pregnancy with her and how I continue to feel “moved” to add to it as she grows and changes. While she is on the move a lot, she also spends a great deal of time riding on my hip in a pouch carrier. So, it felt àpropos to make another slingin’ mama figure, this time with the baby on her hip. While, as always, it isn’t perfect, I do like how my new sculpture turned out:

Slingin' mama goddess!

Healthy Baby Fair Booth--just popped out of baby carrier for photo op

I’ve written several times before about my desire to live an integrated life and I honestly think that babywearing makes it (semi) possible. She most wants to be with me, but often she doesn’t want direct play, she wants to ride along and see what interesting things I’m going to do. I think this is part of baby’s biology and part of how the motherbaby relationship is socially and biologically meant to be at this point—mother goes about her business (grinding corn, perhaps), with baby very close and watching. Unfortunately, this doesn’t include typing things on the computer, which is what much of my work actually entails. So, I save household work to do while she’s awake and riding along and I do computer-based work while she sleeps. That way, we (usually) both get our biologically appropriate needs met within our cultural context. Recently, I had a LLL table at the local Healthy Baby fair and several people came up to my friend and me to comment on how we were wearing our babies and how they were just riding along so content to look at what was going on. I tried to explain to one booth visitor who was expressing concern about the changes babies bring to life how I believe that babies can go along with mothers as they go about their tasks/days—it is possible to integrate the baby into the rest of your responsibilities.

Looking at the wavy lake from safe harbor of mama's body (in Ergo)

I was thinking about this again over the last couple of days that I spent with my family on a mini-vacation to Silver Dollar City (theme park in Branson, Missouri). As long as Alaina was riding with me in the pouch or Ergo she was totally happy. We spent hours outside on Wednesday in pretty bitter cold and she rode and looked and nursed and snoozed. On Thursday we took a lunch “cruise” on a Showboat (didn’t actually cruise due to wind) and again, she rode and checked out the world. Then, on Friday, we were back in the park where she got to go on her first rides ever like a big girl—the carousel (out of pouch) and on the Flooded Mine ride (where the whole family rode in a boat—she rode in the Ergo in the boat with me).

Big girl going for a ride!

Several years ago at an LLL conference, a sleep “expert” spoke during the lunch session. She was of the opinion (which is not shared by LLL as a whole), that nursing a baby to sleep is a “habit” that you don’t want to get into and advocates detaching them when they get sleepy so that they learn how to fall asleep without relying on nursing to get them there. She gave examples of babies and sleep associations and then said, “but if a baby is used to being nursed to sleep, they could fall asleep in the middle of Times Square while the ball was dropping on New Year’s Eve as long as mama was there too and nursing them.” And, I thought, EXACTLY! The problem with that is….?! That is one of the very best things about breastfeeding to me—home is where the mama is. So, this week as Alaina snoozed peacefully when she was sleepy while roller coasters sped around and bluegrass played and fiddlers fiddled and cold winds blew and people swarmed all over, I was thankful that I’ve never tried to get my baby to develop a different sleep association! Breastfeeding is magic like this to me, not an inconvenience or a habit to be restructured.

She is nursing in this picture

Of course, integration of parenting with work can also be a pretty significant challenge, as I touch on in my recent interview in the working/parenting series at Molly Westerman’s blog First the Egg. (I typed my responses to her interview questions on my phone while lying on my side in bed nursing Alaina to sleep.)

My whole series of sculptures

The Value of Sharing Story

“..no matter what her experience in birth was, every mother knows something other people don’t know.”—Pam England

 

“Stories are medicine…They have such power; they do not require that we do, be, act anything—we need only listen. The remedies for repair or reclamation of any lost psychic drive are contained in stories.” –Clarissa Pinkola Estes

 

Every woman who has given birth knows something about birth that other people don’t know. She has something unique and powerful to offer.

As birth professionals, we are often cautioned against sharing our personal stories. We must remember that it is her birth and her story, not ours. In doula and childbirth educator trainings, trainees are taught to keep their own stories to themselves and to present evidence-based information so that women can make their own informed choices. As a breastfeeding counselor too, I must remind myself to keep my own personal experiences out of the helping relationship. My formal education is in clinical social work and in that field as well we are indoctrinated to guard against inappropriate self-disclosure in a client-helper setting. In each environment, we are taught how to be good listeners without clouding the exchange with our own “baggage.” The messages are powerful—keep your own stories out of it. Recently, I have been wondering how this caution might impact our real-life connections with women?

Nine months after I experienced a powerful miscarriage at home at 15 weeks, a good friend found out at 13 weeks that her baby died. As I had, she decided to let nature take its course and to let her body let go of the pregnancy on its own timetable, rather than a medical timetable. When she emailed me for support, it was extremely difficult to separate our experiences. I kept sharing bits and pieces of my own loss experiences and then apologizing and feeling guilty for having violated the “no stories” rule. I kept telling her, “I know this isn’t about me, but I felt this way…” I told her about choosing to take pictures of the baby and to have a ceremony for him at home. That I wished I had gotten his footprints and handprints. The kinds of personal sharing that may have been frowned upon in my varied collection of professional trainings. After several apologies of this sort, I began to reflect and remembered that what I hungered for most in the aftermath of my own miscarriage was other women’s voices and stories. Real stories. The nitty gritty, how-much-blood-is-normal and did-you-feel-like-you-were-going-to-die, type of stories. Just as many women enjoy and benefit from reading other women’s birth stories, I craved real, deep, miscarriage-birth stories. These stories told me the most about what I needed to know and more than organization websites or “coping with loss” books ever could.

I had a similar realization the following month when considering the effectiveness of childbirth classes and trying to pin down what truly had reached me as a first time mother. The question I was trying to answer as I considered my own childbirth education practice was how do women really learn about birth? What did I, personally, retain and carry with me into my own birth journey? The answer, for me, was again, story.

On this blog, I have a narrative about my experiences during my first pregnancy with being able to feel my baby practicing breathing while in-utero. More than any other post on the site, this post receives more comments on an ongoing basis from women saying, “thank you for sharing”–that the story has validated their own current experience. In this example, rather than getting what they need from books, experts, or classes, women have found what they needed from story and, indeed, most of them reference that it was the only place they were able to find the information they were seeking.

And finally, as breastfeeding counselor, during monthly support meetings, I cannot count the number of times I’ve seen mothers’ faces fill with relief when another mother validates her story with a similar one.

So, what is special about story as a medium and what can it offer to women that traditional forms of education cannot? Stories are validating. They can communicate that you are not alone, not crazy, and not weird. Stories are instructive without being directive or prescriptive. It is very easy to take what works from stories and leave the rest because stories communicate personal experiences and lessons learned, rather than expert direction, recommendations, or advice. Stories can also provide a point of identification and clarification as a way of sharing information that is open to possibility, rather than advice-giving.

Cautions in sharing stories while also listening to another’s experience include:

  • Are you so busy in your own story that you can’t see the person in front of you?
  • Does the story contain bad, inaccurate, or misleading information?
  • Is the story so long and involved that it is distracting from the other person’s point?
  • Does the story communicate that you are the only right person and that everyone else should do things exactly like you?
  • Is the story really advice or a “to do” disguised as a story?
  • Does the story redirect attention to you and away from the person in need of help/listening?
  • Does the story keep the focus in the past and not in the here and now present moment?
  • Is there a subtext of, “you should…”?

Several of these self-awareness questions are much bigger concerns during a person-to-person direct dialogue rather than in written form such as blog. In reading stories, the reader has the power to engage or disengage with the story, while in person there is a possibility of becoming stuck in an unwelcome story. Some things to keep in mind while sharing stories in person are:

  • Sensitivity to whether your story is welcome, helpful, or contributing to the other person’s process.
  • Being mindful of personal motives—are you telling a story to bolster your own self-image, as a means of pointing out others’ flaws and failings, or to secretly give advice?
  • Asking yourself whether the story is one that will move us forward (returning to the here and now question above).

While my training and professional background might suggest otherwise, my personal lived experience is that stories have had more power in my own childbearing life than most other single influences. The sharing of story in an appropriate way is, indeed, intimately intertwined with good listening and warm connection. As the authors of the book, Sacred Circles, remind us “…in listening you become an opening for that other person…Indeed, nothing comes close to an evening spent spellbound by the stories of women’s inner lives.”

Molly Remer, MSW, ICCE, CCCE is a certified birth educator, writer, and activist who lives in central Missouri with her husband and children. She is an LLL Leader, a professor of Human Services, and the editor of the Friends of Missouri Midwives newsletter. She blogs about birth, women, and motherhood at https://talkbirth.wordpress.com.

This is a preprint of The Value of Sharing Story, an article by Molly Remer, MSW, ICCE, published in Midwifery Today, Issue 99, Autumn 2011. Copyright © 2011 Midwifery Today. Midwifery Today’s website is located at: http://www.midwiferytoday.com/

Glass Half Full

Written by Katy Read, the article “Glass Half Full” in the fall issue of Brain, Child magazine, explores the questions: “Have mothers complained too much, already … or not enough?” In it, she references a book I hadn’t yet heard of by Bryan Caplan, Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids: Why Being a Great Parent Is Less Work and More Fun Than You’d Think

…Caplan argues that parents make their own job unnecessarily difficult. If they’d cut themselves some slack, he insists, raising kids would be more enjoyable—so much so that couples should consider having more children than they’d planned.

At the same time, however, other observers contend that it’s still rare and socially risky for mothers to admit any discontent…

So which are we: A culture in which mothers hesitate to voice misgivings for fear of social reprisal? Or one so inundated with maternal kvetching that onlookers are understandably tired of it?…

Glass Half Full in Brain, Child magazine.

She later returns to Caplan’s ideas about nature vs. nurture (i.e. that nurture carries less weight than we often assume):

Why do moms “self-flagellate”? Because they’ve been taught that kids pay a long-term price for their parents’ ordinary mistakes. They don’t. Because they think they’re to blame for their children’s flaws. They aren’t.

But guess what. Admitting you can’t control phenomena that nevertheless significantly color your emotional well-being and day-to-day life is not necessarily a ticket to relaxation. Even armed with twins studies and mortality stats, I have not experienced parenting as the carefree romp that Caplan promises.

Sure, much of it has been wonderful. However, not to get all whiny mother on you, raising children remains an often complicated, frustrating, and stress-inducing enterprise, involving many kinds of challenges.

The best part of this article in my opinion, however, was the author’s postscript:

If I were the conspiracy-theory type, I might imagine a sinister plot behind efforts to keep mothers from complaining. After all, mothers perform the lion’s share of unpaid housework and child care—and pay a steep economic price for doing so, on average making less money than fathers or childless people and suffering from a higher rate of poverty. What better way to keep mothers from rebelling against those circumstances than to discourage them from voicing any objections? It’s ingenious: convince women through cultural conditioning that mothers are blissfully content—or ought to be, anyway—and penalize those who contradict that image by lashing back with criticism dripping with contempt.

Luckily, I’m not a conspiracy nut. So of course I don’t seriously think that the writers and publications I quoted in this piece, whom I respect, are in cahoots with opponents of reforms that would make mothers’ lives more manageable (universal health insurance that would make part-time work more feasible, for example). Still, it’s worth asking why the reaction is so swift and harsh—why the outrage? where’s the threat? what deep, dark fears are being tapped?—when a mother dares to mention the empty half of the glass. Glass Half Full in Brain, Child magazine.

As a side note, the same issue contains another interesting article called Inappropriate. This article includes a nude photo of a woman with a double mastectomy and notes that no print publication has ever published the photos, taken by photographer/artist David Jay in a project called SCAR (“Surviving Cancer. Absolute Reality.”). So, it was cool to extrapolate from that that Brain, Child was the first publication to have the guts to publish his work in a print magazine!

Have you met Pachamama?

I have a friend who was taking a mythology class in college this session. She sent me an email titled, “have you met Pachamama?” and included this great little picture:

I just love her! Love her serene little face and the yin-yang type of background.

“Pachamama is a goddess revered by the indigenous people of the Andes. Pachamama is usually translated as Mother Earth, but a more literal translation would be “Mother world” (in Aymara and Quechua mama = mother / pacha = world or land; and later widened in a modern meaning as the cosmos or the universe).[1] Pachamama and Inti are the most benevolent deities; they are worshiped in parts of the Andean mountain ranges, also known as Tawantinsuyu (the former Inca Empire) (stretching from present day Ecuador to Chile and northern Argentina being present day Peru the center of the empire with its capital city in Cuzco).”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pachamama

Rebirth: What We Don’t Say

A new self did emerge. This is what women do not tell each other. I want to say it here: You will die when you become a mother and it will hurt and it will be confusing and you will be someone you never imagined and then, you will be reborn. Truthfully, I have never wanted to be the woman I was before I had children. I loved that woman and I loved that life but I don’t want it again. My daughters have made me more daring, more human, more compassionate. Their births have brought me closer to the earth and they have helped me pare my life down to its essentials. Writing, quick prayers, good food, a few close friends, many deep breaths, love, plants, dancing, music, teaching-these are the ingredients of my/this new self. I waited for this new self in the dark, in the bittersweet water of letting go, in the heavy heartbeat of learning to be a mother, against the isolation, I grew and emerged laughing and crying and here I am, sisters and brothers. Rebirth: What We Don’t Say | The Sage Mama.

One of my favorite songs to listen to after my miscarriage experiences had a refrain of, “it is dark, dark, dark inside.” While previously not connecting to “darkness” as a place of growth or healing, during these experiences I learned that it is in the darkness that new things take root and grow.

As I’ve shared before, one of my favorite quotes about postpartum comes from Naomi Wolf, A mother is not born when a baby is born; a mother is forged, made. The quote I shared above from this “Rebirth” article touches that place in me—that motherhood results in a total life overhaul and a new, enriched identity. (This article also made me think of first postpartum journey which I wrote about here.)

In a previous post, I wrote the following about the idea that giving birth and mothering leaves permanent marks:

I’ve also come to realize that despite the many amazing and wonderful, profound and magical things about birth, the experience of giving birth is very likely to take some kind of toll on a woman—whether her body, mind, or emotions. There is usually some type of “price” to be paid for each and every birth and sometimes the price is very high. This is, I guess, what qualifies, birth as such an intense, initiatory rite for women. It is most definitely a transformative event and transformation does not usually come without some degree of challenge. Sometimes to be triumphed over or overcome, but something that also leaves permanent marks. Sometimes those marks are literal and sometimes they are emotional and sometimes they are truly beautiful, but we all earn some of them, somewhere along the line. And, I also think that by glossing over the marks, the figurative or literal scars birth can leave on us, and talking about only the “sunny side” we can deny or hide the full impact of our journeys.

During Pam England’s presentation about birth stories at the ICAN conference, she said that the place “where you were the most wounded—the place where the meat was chewed off your bones, becomes the seat of your most powerful medicine and the place where you can reach someone where no one else can.

(I’m experimenting with PressThis for this short post)

Homeschooling Today (Part 2 of 2)

So, after my extremely long “ghosts of homeschooling past” post, it is time for my follow-up post about what homeschooling looks like for me today. My boys are only 8 and 5 and if there is one thing that I know for sure, it is that how our daily lives look will change many times. I truly believe that children’s play is children’s “work” and the best thing we can do for them is allow them ample space and opportunity for play. I believe in life learning and playful learning and that we are learning all the time, not just when “doing school.” I also believe that most people are “meant” to live home-based lives, spending a good deal of time in the company of their personal “tribe” and in their own homes (or those of people close to them), rather than in institutional settings (whether that setting be a schoolplace or workplace—as a companion to this thought though, I also feel like adults are also “meant” to spend time each day on “work” that is not parenting, whether it be grinding corn, or something else).

So right now, our daily “structure” looks like this:

  • 8:00, wake up—day feels bright and full of promise!
  • Boys play Minecraft on computer or play with toys in living room or draw. A favorite is these amazingly awesome complex map-type drawings using newsprint paper on a roll (see pictures below). They also draw comic books and write stories.
  • I do yoga
  • I fix breakfast and we all eat
  • Boys continue playing whether on Minecraft or outside or with toys, or draw or play sort of acted-out-video-game-adventure-type-storylines
  • I work on my online class or grades papers/homework or prepares materials for the week’s classes—sometimes with “bonus time” (if Alaina keeps sleeping), writes blog post or works on lessons from own doctoral program.
  • Around 11:00ish, Alaina wakes up. Boys run to play with her. She is wiggly and smiling and “look, world! I’m BAAACK!”
  • Do things like listen to radio and dance together (today, it was Madonna, which the boys said was “laser tag music!” so we then danced/listened and played laser tag. Alaina was in pouch and I held the target and ran around with it to add an extra level of challenge while boys battled it out and attempted to also shoot the target).
  • Do some household chores with Alaina in pouch.
  • Go outside to let out chickens, play, swing on swings. When weather is nice in fall, go into the woods by big rocks to play and explore.
  • Make lunch and eat. (Boys draw or play while I fix it. Alaina rides in pouch and supervises or plays on floor with boys.) Today I also made four loaves of pumpkin bread for our work co-op this weekend with Zander stirring/measuring and Alaina supervising, while Lann drew plans for “jet shoes” he would like to invent.
  • Do school with boys. This consists of a combination of options from:
  1. Reading Eggs
  2. Starfall (we pay for the “more” version)
  3. Jumpstart
  4. Leapster K and First Grade
  5. ClicknRead Phonics
  6. Videos from Harry Kindergarten
  7. In the past, we have also used Dreambox & Time4Learning
  8. I also have approximately 499 educational bookmarks on my computer that we do an assortment of things with.
  9. I get the Clickschooling daily email which often has something good to check out.

Recently, we’ve been doing reading and math worksheets from their Comprehensive Curriculum of Basic Skills workbooks every day. We stop as soon as they say they are bored and don’t want to do anymore, because I don’t believe in setting up an atmosphere where “learning” equals bad. Every day, they also each read me one new Bob Book for reading practice. Z reads the early reading ones and L is into the first grade series. I am crossing my fingers hopefully that Z will learn to read more quickly than L has learned. Just this year, reading has finally clicked for L, but he still isn’t exactly proficient or fluent in reading skill. Since I, personally, learned to read so early, this is really hard for me to deal with.

  • Sometimes we don’t make it to school before Alaina goes down for nap at about 1:30. So, sometimes we do that after I get back up from lying down with her. Sometimes they watch an episode of something they are interested in on Netflix while I’m putting her down for nap.
  • At about 2:30, boys go to visit my parents at their house. While there, they—surprise!—play some more.
  • If the stars are well aligned, Alaina naps while boys I gone and I frantically work on all tasks I imagined doing in the morning, while also feeling guilty about trying to finish my blog post rather than visit with my mom when she comes to get the boys.
  • Once a week we go to homeschool playgroup and we do other homeschool events as they arise like bowling, skating, plays/shows at the university, occasional field trips, pumpkin patch, etc.
  • Alaina wakes from nap and we snuggle and nurse and play and I marvel at her fundamental awesomeness.
  • Boys return and I start trying to work on dinner (usually with Alaina in pouch). Sometimes while visiting with my mom (who plays with Alaina while I cook).
  • Mark gets home from work at close to 6:00.
  • I lament briefly about all the tasks I thought I would complete that I didn’t get finished.
  • Berate self for complaining and for whining at Mark when he has just gotten home, rather than be delightful company.
  • Finish dinner and eat. While eating, we usually do “high-low” of the day—each take turn saying our “low point” and “high point” from the day.
  • Clean up dinner and go outside for our evening walk. Boys ride bikes and are extremely loud and Mark and I try to talk over them.
  • Boys shower, brush teeth and I read to them from our current book and then snuggle them until they go to sleep (Mark gets Alaina in her PJs, pottied, and teeth brushed, and sometimes a bath).
  • Lament a little more about what I still haven’t gotten done.
  • Watch Netflix with Mark in bed while nursing Alaina to sleep.
  • Feel dismayed at pile of laundry still needing to be put away.
  • Imagine hopping up and whirling through the house in a blaze of productivity, but decide going to sleep makes more sense.
  • Review things I expected myself to get done—such as working on books, completing massive projects, writing dozens of blog posts, doing dozens of school assignments, etc. Feel vague sense of failure about the day—never having “caught up” or gotten “finished.” Feel guilty about times I snapped or said, “just a MINUTE!” or didn’t stop what I was doing to look.
  • Wonder why I forget to include, “sustaining life of small, wonderful person” on my list of “accomplishments” for the day.
  • Berate self for not being nicer to self. Berate self for berating self for not being nicer to self.
  • Vow that tomorrow will be a “better day.” Vow to be more patient, more responsive, more mindful, more spiritual, more attentive, more cheerful, more delightful, more zen-like, more inner-peace-full, more better. Berate self for always making same vow. Briefly berate self for self-beratement.
  • Feel bad for not spending more rose-smelling time or time snuggling with my husband or visiting with my mom. Remind self to be generous with self. Retain secret sense of certainty that it is possible to get everything done tomorrow.
  • Read my current book (or books) until I’m almost falling asleep (around midnight).
  • Nurse baby much of night.
  • Wake up full of awesome and ready to do it again!

Things I envision our daily life including, but that rarely manifest:

  • Drumming and musical instrument fun
  • Handwork
  • Family games
  • Making small animals out of moldable beeswax
  • Meditation and other peaceful, contemplative spiritually-oriented practices in perfect harmony with all children participating
  • Wool and wood toycrafting
  • Nifty Waldorfish or paganish seasonal cycles of learning coolness of all kinds
  • Relaxing on back deck porch swing with cup of tea

My friend, Hope, has a great blog post about what homeschoolers “do” every day, which seems to be the number one question of mothers who are thinking about homeschooling their own children.

Here are some pictures of what our lives look like during the day:

Drawing!

Toys set up for adventure...

Tricky moves

Playgroup at park!

Baby with laundry backdrop...

Harry Potter Quidditch Match "trick" photography...

More "trick" photography (note large drawings in progress on floor )

Big drawing/map...

This is the kind of energy that flows through our house every day!

Lann took this picture--notice Mark, A, and I in background at stove

Worn out and time for bed!

My awesome is a little tarnished by this time of night, but I'm still here!

I’m really, really, really grateful that I have two boys who are such good friends for each other!

My Homeschooling Life Story (Part 1 of 2)

I remind my students that in order to effectively help others, it is important to "know your story" and that felt relevant for this post about my homeschooling story

As I mentioned several posts ago, I’ve received some requests to write more about homeschooling. I realized I’m a little stumped on the direction to take, realizing that I used a lot of my “homeschool philosophy” type of energy up writing papers on the subject in college and that I also don’t feel like I have any “how to” advice to give about homeschooling either. Nor can I really figure out how to write a “how we structure our day” type post either, because our days frequently look very different and change based on the needs of the day and the people. These things said, I also don’t mean to suggest in any way that I’ve got it all figured out, I just don’t spend a lot of time thinking about homeschooling. I mentioned it to my mom and she suggested that people might just be interested in my own experiences, both from my childhood and then currently, with my own kids. So, that’s what I’ve decided to offer in this series of two posts. No philosophy, theories, or advice, just my own narrative about being a homeschooled kid who grew up to homeschool her own kids.

My own homeschooling story/saga is such an integrated part of my past, or my life story, that it has barely occurred to me that people might be interested to hear it. Maybe they will be, maybe they won’t be. This is LONG post and who knows if anyone will even make it until the end! I do think I am in a fairly unique position as an adult former homeschooler. I know almost no one else who was homeschooled throughout the childhood and teenage years, never setting foot in a formal school until entering college. Did I mention its long? Be warned!

Childhood

I have three younger siblings and my mom homeschooled all of us. At the time, we considered ourselves “unschoolers” but I feel like that label has evolved to encompass a more developed philosophy and set of beliefs than it did when I was a kid. To my mom it meant that we homeschooled without curriculum and that learning in the house was primarily child-led/child-directed, with Mom’s primary purpose to make quality resources available to us and to answer questions. My mom has a degree in early childhood education, which always gave her a little additional credibility in the eyes of casual questioners or people wondering if you were “allowed” to homeschool. As a kid, I truly felt like my mom homeschooled because she enjoyed our company so much that she couldn’t stand to have us away from her all day at school. It wasn’t until adulthood that I fully realized that she probably could have used the “break” school would have provided, but she homeschooled us because of her own convictions that it was in our best interest and that the public school system was a “broken” one to which she was philosophically opposed. As a teenager, I did catch on to some of these convictions and would passionately advocate for homeschooling when encountering those who would express skepticism or doubt (this is what I mean about having “used up” this energy already).

My dominant memories of my childhood years consist mainly of playing with my sister, reading, and having my mom make things for us. My youngest siblings are 9 and 11 years younger than I am and do not feature prominently in my childhood memories. My other sister is 22 months younger than I am and our lives together are so inextricably linked that I rarely speak about my childhood without using the pronoun “we.” We spent so much time playing. It was the bulk of our day really, just playing with each other. We were each other’s best friend. We played outside, we played with toys, we made toys, and played some more. We had neighbors (loosely speaking—within five miles from us) who were also homeschoolers and we saw and played with them frequently as well (and, grew up to be bridesmaids in each other’s weddings). With our friends, we often played house, restaurant and yes, school. We made all kinds of worksheets for our dolls and I was always the teacher. At home, we sometimes did worksheets with mom. Almost every year she bought “Super Workbooks” for us (i.e. “My Third Grade Super Workbook”) and we’d start off with a bang with her saying that this was the year when we were really going to buckle down and do school every day. This usually lasted a couple of weeks and we’d be back to our freeform, playing days with occasional bursts of workbooks as we expressed interest in them. We had old-fashioned readers like Dick & Jane that were always fun to read, as well as lots of other schoolbooks in addition to the Super Workbooks. These were always available to us on the bookshelf if we wanted them.  I learned to read when I was three and have been a voracious reader ever since. We would go to the library once a week and I would check out every new book they had.

Because of my tendency to read until my eyes glazed over, my mom eventually limited me to reading two books a day (full-length “chapter books” such as Trixie Belden—favorites of mine when I was about 6). I literally read every single book in the children and youth sections at both local libraries. A lot of my learning truly came from fiction. I still feel like my most long-lasting lessons about history came from American Girl books! We also used to get all kinds of educational magazines. Mom also read to us every night until we were in our early teens, usually book series like Narnia. We were in 4-H for many years and did all kinds of projects through 4-H, went to summer camp, and eventually participated in their many leadership-opportunity programs. I’ve never forgotten the mock trial of the ethically and morally complicated case of Nancy Cruzan we participated in at the state Capitol building through the 4-H civic leadership program I took part in. We belonged to the local homeschool support group and regularly went to homeschool bowling, skating, and other events. My mom also did a “craft club” for girls and we would get together and make craft projects every week. We also had lots of sleepovers.

Unlike many other homeschoolers of the time, we did not homeschool for religious reasons and in fact were not religious at all. I felt a barrier throughout my childhood in relating authentically to other people because I was not religious—it felt like something I needed to play close to the chest and keep “secret.” Many of my friends were fundamentalist Christians, which was not compatible with my own burgeoning sense of social justice and women’s rights. My own self-identification as a feminist was my first taste of activism and my first involvement with a “cause” (other than homeschooling). I had many experiences with my homeschooled peers that left a very bad taste in my mouth towards religion, primarily religious attitudes toward women, to the extent that I maintained a knee-jerk almost anti-religious response to any discussion of religious or spiritual issues until I was close to 30. As a child and teenager, I came to feel like being religious and being feminist were fundamentally incompatible and I chose feminism. I truly did not know that someone could be religious or Christian without being frighteningly fundamentalist about it. It wasn’t until much, much later that I discovered that are a lot of “normal Christians” in the world (including “normal homeschooling Christians”).

I grew up in an off-the-grid log cabin in the woods. We did not have a TV until I was 12 when we got a TV/VCR combo unit—it did not get any TV channels, but after that point we watched one movie per night.

High School

When I approached age 14, my parents gave me the choice of continuing to be homeschooled or to start high school. Several of my homeschooling friends started high school at this point and homeschooled boys in particular were hard to come by, many having been lured to public high school from desire to play organized sports. Those of us who remained actually organized our own homeschool basketball “team,” playing basketball together in local parks at least once a week. I opted to begin a homeschool correspondence program, American School, a (supposedly) college-prep high school program that offered an accredited diploma at the end. Any naysayers were quickly silenced to learn that the same accrediting body that accredited the local high school, also accredited the correspondence high school I attended.

During my early teenage years, I also remained very involved with 4-H, serving as president of my club, etc. I also joined an Explorers post, the co-ed, young adult version of Boy Scouts and this is where I ended up meeting the boy who would eventually become my husband. Through dating his public-schooled self, I ended up participating in all of those things that people express concern about homeschoolers “missing out on,” such as the prom. I cannot count the number of time people have asked, “but what about prom?!” when they hear that someone is homeschooled. After going to prom myself, I felt deeply sad that this experience was what some people apparently considered the pinnacle of their lives! My homeschooled-til-high-school friends were in band and another friend’s brother played football, so I went to many high school football and basketball games to watch them play, thus again not missing out on a classic high school experience. (I’m glad I didn’t need to spend 12 years in public school in order to earn these fabulous honors!)

I quickly discovered that I could complete my high school classes very quickly, sometimes completing an entire high school course during one weekend (of intensive work). My only challenging area was math and sometimes my mom and I both ended up crying over it as I struggled through algebra and geometry at the kitchen table. I started to toy with the notion of possibly completing high school in three years. As classes passed, I realized I could finish even more quickly than that, and in 1994, I received my high school diploma at age 15—14 months after having started the correspondence classes. Yes, I completed 4 years worth of high school work in slightly over a year! This really solidified for me that high school was likely a “waste of time” for everyone. After starting college, I was interviewed by the local paper and was asked if I felt like I had “missed anything” by not going to school like everyone else, I responded that I had missed out on “having been institutionalized.” I was dating my future husband at this time and his friends were extremely annoyed at my “snotty” attitude in this quote stating that I couldn’t know what high school was like, having never been there. They also said, “it isn’t an institution! It has windows and the lockers are painted different colors.” I rested my case.

While my parents and I debated about whether it made sense or not for me to start college so young, I really felt like I might as well be spending my time in college as in high school—if I could do it, why not start. So, at 15 1/2 I enrolled in a branch college to “get my feet wet.” My primary motivation for starting at this school rather than at the local university, was because the branch college did not require an ACT score to be admitted and I really, really did not want to take the ACT. I eventually took the GRE to get into graduate school and that remains the only standardized test I’ve ever taken.

College

I spent almost two years taking classes at the branch college until I had enough credit hours to transfer to the local university without an ACT score. I took College Algebra with trepidation, never having felt fully competent in math. I did successfully get an A in the class, but it involved literally hours of self-imposed practice problem solving at home sitting by the wood stove. I was a very enthusiastic and hard-working student, theorizing that I had so much energy for college because I hadn’t previously been “burned out” by high school. I earned all A’s at the branch school and continued to earn all A’s at the university to which I transferred, eventually graduating summa cum laude with a 4.0 GPA. I was also the youngest graduate in the university’s history, finishing my bachelor’s degree at age 19 years and 13 days. I kept my age very private throughout college, only revealing my true age to a tiny handful of other students and then to a couple of my favorite professors in the two weeks before graduation. One classic moment was when a friend asked me to go to a bar after class to continue working on our group project. I said I couldn’t and he said, “why not? You’re 21, aren’t you?” I just said no, and he said, “22?” which I continue to find very amusing 😉 For all of those who worry about the “socialization” of homeschoolers, no one ever seemed to be able to identify me as a homeschooler or as overly young.

After it became clear that driving into town every day for classes and work no longer made a lot of sense, I lived in the dorm for one semester in my junior year and then moved into a small efficiency apartment when I was almost 18. I worked at the branch college I originally attended, which was a perfect job for me, allowing me to do all my homework and paper writing while at work. (I am now a professor at this same college!)

I was extremely obsessive about my grades, becoming almost panic-stricken at the thought of not getting an A in a class. Astronomy was my most horrible subject and I remember crying—wailing almost—certain that it was going to be the undoing of my 4.0. As it was, I calculated the exact score I needed to get on the final to manage a 90% in the class and I still remember the tension in my chest in going to look at the final grades on the professor’s door and seeing that, yes, I had received exactly that score on the final, not a single point over! I continued to date my only boyfriend throughout college and in July after I graduated we got married (we’ve been married for 13 years now). Immediately following college, I went on to graduate school and finished my master’s degree there at age 21, also with a perfect 4.0 GPA (though I’d been told by many people, including professors, that I’d have to lower my expectations of myself once I went to graduate school and that it would be a “bigger pond,” that didn’t end up being true). Again, I only revealed my age to a handful of people. At one point after being pushed into saying how old I was, my friend said, “wow! I would never have guessed. If someone had asked me, ‘is Molly 19 or 30,’ I would have said, ‘well, she looks young for 30.'” Even at the time, this struck me as mildly sad, like I had been “fast forwarded” through my adolescence.

Adult Reflections

My experienced as a homeschooled, now-adult taught me many things about education and about homeschooling. Primarily, I know from experience that it is not necessary to sit in desk all day. I also know that it is not necessary homeschool with a “school at home” mentality. Basically, children do pick up everything they need to know to be functional, socialized adults with access and opportunities. I always say I learned about the “real world” by living in it, rather than being closed up all day in an artificially age-segregated environment expressly modeled to serve the purposes of the Industrial Revolution, not human needs.

I do retain some sense of having been “fast forwarded,” in my life, but that isn’t really a bad thing (for example, now a 32, I have over 15 years of experience in my chosen field, rather than still “just starting out” as it seems to me like many thirty-something year olds are!). If I was starting all over again, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend going to college that young, but nor would I recommend trying to prolong something that could be completed in less than four years.

My brother and sisters all did the same high school correspondence program, but paced themselves intentionally to finish later. They also all went to college and finished their bachelor’s degrees. I share this personal story for those of you who have wondering if homeschooling “works” and whether your kids will, indeed, grow into functional adult humans 🙂

I find it somewhat amusing that I’ve ended up in education as a career. I feel like my outlook was profoundly shaped by my homeschooled childhood and my students frequently express that I expect them to think in ways they’ve never thought before and that my assignments are not like anything they’ve experienced before, “I mean, you actually expect us to think.” (direct quote)

I have joked before, but am half-serious, that being unschooled “ruined” me for full-time employment. It did in the sense that I don’t think it is healthy for anyone—male, female, child, adult—to spend all day, every day doing the same thing at the same place. That is not how life is meant to be lived! I also feel like my childhood spent essentially doing what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it, did have an impact on my experience of motherhood now, which not infrequently does not allow me to do what I want to do when I want to do it, and I chafe a little at those restrictions on my autonomy and all of my billions of ideas.

I also find it somewhat amusing that my life has taken a religious turn now, in that I am currently working on my doctoral degree (D.Min) in women’s spirituality. I also am the vice president of my very small UU church. I find myself very passionate about and absorbed in study of the divine feminine, the sacred feminine, women’s spirituality, feminist spirituality, and the Goddess. It took me a long time and some childhood religious “scars” to realize that there is a vast world out there beyond the dominant, patriarchal, Judeo-Christian lens and to discover that I connect to the women’s spirituality movement on a very deep and meaningful level.

Homeschooling My Own Kids

As I previously noted, homeschooling my own kids was a foregone conclusion for me. I literally cannot fathom the idea of sending them to public school. Please see Part 2 of this homeschooling post for more about what homeschooling looks like for us right now!

Picking Stuff

This is purely a personal post to share pictures of my babies picking stuff 🙂 We have a tradition of taking a picture of each sitting in the grass picking grass, leaves, and flowers. When writing about Lann’s birthday and choosing pictures to use, I came across his “picking stuff” pictures and I wanted to share the series!

Lann picking stuff

Zander picking stuff

Alaina picking stuff

Can you tell they’re related? I think they all have nice-shaped little heads. Different hair configurations, but same color. I love how Alaina’s hands were capturing in enthusiastic picking motion 🙂 Putting these pictures together gives me a weird, nostalgic sense of collapsed time.