August 28, 2008

This post was hard to write, might be hard to read. But I feel like its time to get out into the world my truth about my miscarriage. I actually wrote this post almost a year ago. It's been sitting as a draft for months. I don't know why I wasn't ready to release it to the world, but I wasn't. 

Like many women I have a love-hate relationship with my own body. I range from absolute hatred and shame to acceptance, with maybe occasional sides of love. I don't have to explain to you why, if you're a woman in this world you already know. But things have changed a lot in my head and heart and spirit over the last five years.  It all really started in the summer of 2008.

I found out I was pregnant with our second child within a couple weeks of deciding to go back to work. My oldest was 2 and starting daycare for the first time. I was going back to a job I really liked and I was ready for the challenges that working part time would bring. And then I just had the feeling that I was pregnant. I was afraid I was pregnant, I really didn't want to be. And then we had the positive test and then I just got happy about it, because that's what you do in this life to survive.

But since those first few minutes I knew something was wrong, I just didn't feel right. It wasn't physical as much as spiritual. I just knew that this pregnancy was not going to go full term. I hated myself for thinking and feeling this way, but in my mama heart I knew this Truth. I didn't tell anyone about this knowledge because it was blasphemous. And then the bleeding came at 9 weeks. We rushed for an ultrasound and were told there was no heartbeat. I visited with the midwife and discussed my options. I decided to let nature take Her course, because I think we should always err on the side of Mother Nature. I also couldn't think about dealing with people or the health care system. I thought I should feel the contractions and live through it. It wasn't punishment, it was honoring the life that wasn't going to be. And so I had a very painful and heartbreaking 24 hours, mostly spent alone in the bathroom or pacing the bedroom.

If you have never miscarried, then you may not know that there's blood and more blood. More blood than I thought I could lose without being faint or dying. The contractions were like birth pains. They were birth pains, if we are going to be honest. The only way I could cope was the pacing. I walked the bedroom all day, avoiding my child and mother-in-law downstairs. And then I'd spend 20 minutes in the bathroom, change the pad and go back to pacing. I did this for hours. And that night I paced in the living room, trying to drink grape juice, watching the Democratic Convention and listening to Barack Obama accept the party's nomination. In some ways that was one of my happiest and most hopeful nights and the very worst night of my life. I am grateful to have had the distraction of a historical moment, otherwise I don't know if I could have managed so well.

But after the physical part was over, I really didn't suffer much emotionally. I don't feel guilty for not spending days in bed or otherwise giving over to grief. I really didn't feel grief. I don't know what to call it, but grief or mourning wasn't it. But there was a deep pain, both physical and spiritual.

I decided on that hot night that I was going to start taking care of this body of mine. I was going to get back into running and starting focusing on nutrition. I also wanted to lose weight, the weight I was always hoping to lose, but rarely actually doing much about. This miscarriage was like a 'reset to default' for my life. I have no idea why I felt that way, but it is still how I feel about that experience. I am not happy that we lost a child, but I also don't think of that pregnancy as a real person. I never did. I suppose this is a coping mechanism, a defense. Whatever it is, it feels true to me.

I realize that some people will judge me for my feelings and contradictory word choices. I really don't care. You can feel your feelings and I am going to feel mine. I am living this life in this body. I am going to honor this body for all that it can do and all that it has endured. The miscarriage was the hardest thing I have ever done. My body, spirit, and mind are so much stronger because of it. I am grateful that I took something good from that horrible experience. I could have wallowed and had a few weeks or months of self-destruction or self-pity. I'm glad I didn't. Because I was pregnant 13 months later. And all that care and nourishment I gave my body helped me have a healthy and joyful pregnancy. I have a little boy who is full of life and a willful joy. He's 3, going on 14.

And now I know I can do anything. Absolutely anything.

There are other important milestones on my journey to self-love and acceptance (I'm still working on it). I'll share them in future posts.

Leave my girls alone

In defense of my girls, Lena and Beyoncé.

I understand that I am weeks behind the zeitgeist on this, but I have been stewing and finally have to spew my words.

Leave my girls alone. 

They can wear whatever they want, even nothing. They can be proud, oblivious, fierce, self-conscious, sexy, fat, humorous, whatever they fucking want.

It doesn't matter if you don't like it. 

Lena Dunham as Hannah on the TV show Girls.

I find it funny that people give both of these talented and confident women the same amount of shit about their bodies and how they use them, considering how differently they are viewed by the mainstream media (and really everyone else too). Beyoncé is the sexiest woman of the 21st Century according to GQ. Lena Dunham (writer, producer, director, actor) has been called fat by all sorts and viewing her naked body was likened to "rape" by Howard Stern.

Beyoncé's Super Bowl performance was mesmerizing, she was amazing whether she sang a note or not. She danced her ass off and had a lot of fun doing it. I don't get people who criticize her performance for being too sexy or whatever other bullshit they want to throw at her. She was fierce and just what we all expect from a Super Star. But considering there are people who didn't believe she was pregnant and accused her of wearing a fake baby bump, I guess some people will never let her just be. Because she's a woman, even if she is Mrs. Carter.

Lena Dunham is a talented woman. Anybody who has watched Girls or seen Tiny Furniture knows that. She is also a feminist artist, who uses all of her tools, including her naked body to tell a story and push buttons. There has been so much written about Dunham's nakedness on her show: Pro and Con. I just want to say: THANK YOU for showing a real live body on TV. We are grown ass people, we can see a real nude woman without having to have her chopped, filtered and streamlined. As a woman, I want to see a woman having sex that looks real, even if awkward or even painful.. But never mind about me...back to the point.

So why do people write and blab on and on about these women's choices and appearances?

Beyoncé has the nerve to be proud and confident. She has the nerve to be a good performer and enjoy herself. Lena Dunham has the nerve to show her body, to have her character be naked in front of and with other characters, women and men. The nerve of Dunham is that she wants us to believe that men want to fuck Hannah, because according to all the is good and Hollywood, she is the opposite of sexy.

Because if a woman shows her body, it must be because she thinks she is sexy and is trying to get the attention and approval of men. A woman cannot use her body for any other purpose then for the male view and use. A woman can't possibly enjoy her own body, its movements, it curves, its beauty. That is really just not allowed. And woe be unto the woman who enjoys her sex, enjoys the body she has, enjoys how it feels. That woman is a slut, a show off, and needs to be controlled.

Beyoncé in her 2013 Super Bowl Half Time Show

So that's how Beyoncé and Lena Dunham are sisters. That's how they become my sisters. I will fight for their right to be naked, to dance, to smile provocatively, to be as alluring or as dismissive as they wish. I reserve the same rights. I hope you do too. If Beyoncé can't be fierce and sexy, then who the hell can?


You should read this too. It will give you some context for Lena Dunham's work (and nudity).

Guest post at Radical Hateloss

I am so very excited and honored to be included with the fierce and radical ladies over at Radical Hateloss. Stephanie Vincent, the mind and spirit behind Radical Hateloss, invited me to share an insight or experience about my relationship with my body. The result is: From Thick Thighs to Thick Thighs.

I plan on writing much more about my journey as a woman and a mother in the context of my relationship with my body, some triumphant and others quite painful. I believe by sharing honestly, and risking vulnerability, we can move past these conditioned beliefs and behaviors to a more authentic and joyful lives in our bodies. The bodies we have right now. I have a lot to say about issues related to our bodies, sexuality, motherhood, strength, and wellness. I hope you'll share your ideas and comments on those posts.

There was an old lady...

Joan Rivers' face -the result of our society's ageist sexism

Help me!  I am getting old.  The first clues were easy enough to dismiss, the first gray hairs appeared at 30, but were easily plucked and discarded.  The fine lines around my eyes could be tamed by sleep and a cheap eye cream, but no longer.  But the proverbial straw has been watching my breasts deflate and head south.  I knew that sooner or later big changes were gonna come, but I didn't expect it at 36.  I thought I had until 40, and then I would get my middle-aged card punched and I could age gracefully. But that isn't happening.  I will not go quietly into that dark night!  I hate that my skin is getting thinner and wrinkly in places where just a year ago it was firm (although squishy thanks to the layer of fat).  I am even getting age spots.  What the fuck is that about?!

Last week I had a date with a feminist friend of mine, and I confessed my lapse in feminist self-image.  She is going through similar changes in her physical self and could relate to me, but she has decided to rage against the machine, our sexist, superficial culture.  Whereas I had been raging against the cells of my body.  Both activities feel futile, but at least she is focusing her rage outward, where it belongs.

I am going to age, sag, wrinkle and gray no matter what I do, provided I am lucky enough to keep living for the next several decades.  However, there is a chance that together we can change our culture, however small.  If we all refuse to participate in bashing our bodies, then maybe our daughters won't look at their stretch marks and wrinkles with disgust, but will embrace their bodies for all the joy and pleasure and accomplishment they bring to their lives.

My body has grown, carried and fed two babies.  My body has run hundreds (maybe thousands of miles).  My body has blown more than a few minds (mine included).  My body has created delightful food and cultivated beautiful flowers.  My body has snuggled friends close and slapped rude men.  My body has suffered injury and healed itself.  My body is indeed a wonderland.

I don't expect that I am going to get over the grief of the aging process any time soon. But I do believe that with time and mindfulness, I can embrace the body that I have now.  I am holding on to the fact that according to the "experts" I am supposed to be entering my sexual peak years.  I guess that's a nice consolation prize. 

Freedom Isn't Free, Except When It Is

Today is Memorial Day, a day to honor those who serve our country, especially those who have died.  And a few times today I heard the phrase, "freedom isn't free".  I have a complicated relationship with this sentiment.  On one hand, I hate it because I associate it with people who think the only way to secure freedom is by blowing up people "over there".  On the other hand, I agree with the sentiment.  Freedom isn't free...except when it is. 

True freedom comes from within, its in our minds.  To me, the freedom to think, free will, and freedom to explore ideas are the ultimate freedoms.  No matter our outer circumstances, we can remain free in our minds.  With this mind freedom comes the responsibility to use the freedom wisely.  This freedom should be used to secure our happiness and health, as well as the health and happiness of others.  But too often we squander this freedom with thoughts focused on what is lacking, on what we don't like, on what other people are doing/have.

This idea came to me today at the local swimming pool.  I realized that today was the first time I was not self-conscious about being in a swimsuit in public since I was 10 years old.  Without all the self-fat talk and constant comparison to other women in the area, I was free to enjoy my body and the day with my beautiful boys.  I was free of all that negativity and baggage.  I shrugged all that off once I started accepting and loving myself as I am and appreciating my body for all the things it can do.

My body isn't drastically different than it was the last time I was in a bathing suit.  But my attitude is worlds away.  Over the last year, my mindset has changed.  I don't focus on my weight or a diet.  I focus on health and wellness.  I focus on doing what feels good, makes me happy and works to keep me on track towards my goals.  Its the switch of focusing on the positive things, the things that work or can be changed to be better; rather than focusing on comparison, judgment and criticism.  It's all in your point of view.  Now I accept this body of mine that has grown two babies, ran many miles, eaten so many delicious meals, and crafted some really cool stuff.  My body is strong, healthy and perfect for me.  Sure, I could improve my fitness and health, as we all could.  I am working towards those goals, but with a realistic mind.  I realize that no matter what the scale says or what size pants I wear, I am still me. I am not defined by numbers or inches. 

And so what about that freedom?  Well, I am free.  Free to be myself.  Free to enjoy my body.  Free to be happy about my life.  Free to be grateful for all that I have and am able to share with others.  These freedoms are free and open to us all.  These freedoms must be vigilantly defended.  We must not allow the self-hate, the negativity, the critical, snarky voices to overcome us and demand our obedience. We must defend our minds and our freedoms of thought.  We must defend our freedom from self-hate and preserve our self-esteem.  We must fight this fight not only for ourselves but for our children.  It is our duty to protect them from the freedom-stealing voices that tell them they are not enough.

We are all enough.  We all contain everything we need.  It's all right there.  We just have to believe it.