Motherhood make-over

There are many things I have come to realize now that I am a parent. The chief among these is that before now, I did not understand. There’s just no way to.

Let me illustrate by sharing some examples of things I never thought I’d do (or at least, not all at once):

• Left the house in my pajamas having not brushed either my hair or teeth because we were in dire need of diapers.
• Went five days without showering.
• Remained in the same clothes for five days.
• Went any number of hours before realizing I had baby poop on my person. It might have been there all day. I have no idea.
• Been pooped on, peed on and thrown up on and not changed clothes.
• Enjoyed grocery shopping because (a) it was out of the house, (b) away from a crying baby and (c) amongst adults.
• Used baby wipes on my armpits because my own stink was so horrible and yet I did not have the energy or time to shower.
• Looked upon my saggy, jiggle, stretch-marked belly and cried.

Parenthood is hard, with0ut question. I knew to expect worrying about her, frustration when I did not know how to make her stop crying and an extreme lack of sleep. (Although, I did not understand how the extreme lack of sleep would feel.)

What I find surprising is that nobody tells you about how you’re going to feel as a woman. Or at least nobody told me. My body just did a biological triathlon. Pregnancy is a bitch. Giving birth is almost impossible to describe. But people talk (at least a little bit) about the physicality of all that. People allow you to bitch about pregnancy’s less-fun moments. People focus on the part about becoming a mother, the new baby and the joy. And these are good things to focus on. These are big-deal things. But what about the transition back to being just yourself, a woman in a world that worships stick-thin idols and Playboy bunnies who can morph back into bikini babes in the blink of an eye? What about us average gals who don’t have personal chefs, personal trainers, nannies, maids, personal assistants and the like to help us deal with the enormous new challenges in our lives?

It’s hard enough worrying about being a new mom. Am I going to fuck this up? Will she have to get therapy someday because of me? How will I afford to send her to college? What will her first word be? Am I holding her too much or letting her cry too much? Am I a bad mother because I don’t like breastfeeding? When will she sleep through the night? But on top of all that I have to somehow be fashion-forward, sexy, perky, firm in the right places and all that?!

Nobody I know likes to talk about these things but the fact is, when the baby comes out you look down at your body and it’s alien. It’s been transformed from top to bottom. There is nothing familiar about my body these days. It’s been streched beyond all stretchitude and there is a road-map of stretchmarks and folds of jiggly, slack skin to prove it. At this point I am already back to my pre-pregnancy weight (thanks to breastfeeding and its magic calorie-burning powers) but my body looks nothing like it did before. All the skin is droopy, saggy, dry. The belly still juts out enough so I look about 4-5 months pregnant. The maternity clothes are getting too big but the regular clothes can’t deal with the belly pooch situation.

I have never felt more outside the social beauty standards than right now. I see how people look at me when I’m in line at the grocery store. I understand it (and resent it). I used to be them, judging the disheveled lady in pajamas with a rats nest where hair should be. I get it. But when do I have time to go clothes shopping? And where could I go? I am well outside acceptable fashion-industry norms. I’m lumpy, bumpy, pudgy. And I want whatever I’m wearing to be comfortable and quick. I don’t have time to think about coordinating this and that when my 2-month-old is screaming. And, well, I need something where I can get my boobs out in a hurry — so my baby can eat (don’t be a perv). I would love it if somehow all that could be accomplished in a way where I look human and not like a spit-up-covered zombie. But it doesn’t seem possible. Or if it is, it’s just too damn much work these days.

The good news is that I am starting to find time to work out, which feels good. It feels good to move my body and get my strength back. It’s hard because everything is weak and stretched out of place. But it feels right to move. I can see a 5K in the distance.

What I think is wrong with all the crap put on women to snap back to sexpot immediately after giving birth (besides that in itself) is that it implies you will be back to your old self eventually. What I am discovering is that it’s a one-way door. You’re never going back. You’re never going to be who you were before — physically, emotionally. You’re going to be who you are now. It sounds obvious, but I don’t think it actually is. I have to accept that this is the body and whirlwind life I have right now. And my body has been forever changed by the act of making a baby. And just because I love my baby doesn’t mean I have to love every physical price I paid to have her. That’s okay. I’m accepting the now and I’m keeping my gaze looking forward toward the horizon. Toward what is next. I believe I will get into shape enough to run again. I believe my body will become a space I love again and can feel sexy within again. But I am also accepting that what that looks like and how that comes to be will be different than what I was before.

Until then, if you find yourself standing in line behind a woman who looks like she hasn’t bathed in days, smells a little like baby poop and whose hair is sticking up on the top of her head — be kind. It might be me. Or it might be some other new mom just trying to make it through the day. Chances are, she just realized what she looks like, too. Chances are she has to fight back tears when she thinks about how much her body has changed and how unpretty she feels.  Be kind, my friends. Be kind.

PS: I haven’t forgotten about other topics, like politics and how crazy Sharron Angle is. I just have to work out time in the day to actually write things down. I promise the next post won’t be about motherhood.

What’s it all for?

I’ve been thinking about the blog a lot lately — which may surprise you since I’ve been sort of MIA. It’s hard with a new little baby (she’s great, by the way) to find time to rant about the government, corporate greed, misogyny, the election and so on. What’s bothering me is that all that stuff isn’t bothering me, quite so much anyway. I can’t seem to care about the Reid/Angle struggle. I can’t seem to care about whether or not Rory Reid is going to overcome his father’s name recognition to beat out Gibbons, Jr., I mean Brian Sandoval. And the things that do make me mad — the oil spilling into the gulf, for instance — just make me feel small and impotent.

Maybe caring isn’t the right word for it. Because I do care. In some ways, I care more than ever because I want my daughter to have the best life possible. I care that it feels like Nevada is sinking into a cesspool of failure (could we be doing any worse?). I care that there are idiots running for office. I care about our schools and the unemployment rate and the foreclosure tailspin. I do care. But I just don’t feel like there is anything I can do about it. I feel like all this ranting and blogging and signing petitions is all just … inconsequential. The election will come and go. It will most likely have a ridiculously low turn-out. Some incompetent morons will be elected (and hopefully some good folks, too). But will anything change? And will all our angst-ridden, righteous indignation mean anything?

Sometimes all this feels like we’re just factioning off and then talking to our own people, those that are already with us. And then shouting at “the other side.” For what? Does it really change anything? What is it all for?

It’s hard to ask these questions. I want to feel like all my past activism, volunteering, petition-signing, picketing, boycotting, journalism, blogging and political allegiances mean something. I like writing. Hell, I can even admit that I like that other people like my writing and read it and talk about it. I like to think I make a difference. And maybe I do, or did. But you’re talking about moving the dial one hash-mark and the dial has … oh, a million hash-marks. So was all that sweat, work, shouting and gnashing of teeth really worth it? I don’t know.

What I do know is that my time is very precious these days. If I get a whole hour to myself in a day (not counting sleep), it’s a brilliant day! The work of parenting is the hardest job I’ve ever had and it’s a little hard on my ego to admit that. I spent 15 years as a full-time, working-in-the-trenches gal. The worst of it is that people think you’re opting out and taking it easy at home when you’re actually working your ass off — physically, mentally, emotionally. (I’m ashamed to say, I used to be one of those people.) And when you’re working that hard and at all hours of the day and night, suddenly you feel very protective of any little bit of day you can carve out for yourself. When you have to choose between another half-hour of sleep or getting a shower — and it’s a hard choice — then anything else you might do with your time is seriously analyzed. Is it worth it?

I don’t know the answer, but I do hear my baby waking up from her nap.

Independence Day

On Sunday, July 4, it will be exactly six weeks since I gave birth to my daughter, Kate. It is Independence Day in more ways than one for me; I will finally be cleared for exercise and physical activity. I never knew how much I took the physicality of life for granted!

For the past six weeks I’ve been learning the ropes of motherhood, taking care of Kate (breastfeeding, diapering, burping, walking the floors, repeat!) and healing from a marathon 37-hour labor which ended in an emergency C-section. At some point in these last weeks every part of me has hurt — the C-section incision, the internal wounds of labor, my legs, my back, my skin, my breasts, my nipples (Dear God!!)… I had to heal enough to negotiate the stairs in my house and then enough to walk those stairs holding my baby. Even though I have not been able to exercise (when you count my last trimester of pregnancy — it’s been many months), this is not to say my life is not physical. I spend most of my day lifting, holding, carrying and otherwise attending to an 11-pound, squirming infant. (Yes! 11 pounds!!)

I have decided that pregnancy, child-birth and the early months of caring for a baby are the hardest things you can do in life. If not emotionally, it is most definitely the most physical set of things you can do. It’s a biological triathlon! And if you have ever done any of it — you are a mother-fucking bad-ass. Period.

(And I have to say, although I love my husband and I don’t normally go negative on men, you guys really have it so easy you don’t even know it. This is not to say that you don’t have other responsibilities, hardships and the like. But honestly, there’s nothing you go through physically that will ever compare. I’m six weeks out from child-birth and I still have pain when I wake up, every day. And I have to just get up and push past it because my baby is crying and wants her milk. I have to push past the sore nipples, the pain when she kicks me in my incision, the cramps in my uterus, the throbbing back … all of it. So, when it comes to this stuff, just stop any urge to bitch before it starts.)

What I have realized over these past weeks is that there is nothing left that I could do that can be as physically exhausting, punishing, painful or otherwise taxing as having a baby. And when you throw in the fluctuating hormones, intense emotions and bonding, lack of sleep and all the other stuff — yeah, it’s just that fucking hard and more.

Now, at this point you might be thinking that I’m all down on having a baby. This is not true. I LOVE Kate. Don’t even worry about that for a second. I love her more intensely and more wholly than I ever thought possible. It is a love that is different from any other I have ever felt. It is in many ways the most powerful love I have ever felt. Period.

All I’m trying to say is that the work of carrying a baby inside you, squeezing it out and then caring for it is the hardest work possible. Perhaps that’s the balance to all the love and joy. That’s for greater minds than mine to figure out.

After all this, I realize that all those times I made excuses to not workout, all those fears about 5Ks or hiking mountains or being a fat asthmatic — all that is so much bullshit I can’t even stand it! All that is the chumpiest chump compared to having a baby! Seriously!

So on Sunday I will joyfully start exercising again. It will be my Independence Day from feeling like a part of my life is missing. After I get back to a basic level, I’ll be training for my next 5K and then … who knows? I certainly won’t ever fear a race or that I can’t do something again. If there’s any silver-lining to my bad birth experience, it’s that. (Obviously, I consider Kate to be the ultimate reward, not just a silver-lining.) There’s nothing as scary as that was. And I survived! I healed!

Whether or not you have ever been pregnant, given birth or had a child any other way, I share this with you to share my inspiration, my hope and my joy. Don’t waste another second on the doubts, fears or insecurities that hold you back. The old adage is: You’re more powerful than you think. You better believe it!

Sin City Mama

Just popping in for a moment (that’s about all I get these days). As many Siren readers know by now, I’m a mommy. My daughter, Kate, was born May 23. We had a bit of a rough start but things are going well now. Well, I’m perpetually covered in spit-up, breast-milk (and sometimes pee and/or poop) and don’t get much sleep, but I think that’s the usual drill. This is my first time on my computer in three weeks!

I love my daughter so much! I wanted to share a little story I wrote about Kate’s birth.

Kate’s birth story:

As I write this my beautiful daughter is cooing sweetly in her sleep. It is a quarter-to-midnight and my husband and I are trading naps during the night shift. I vacillate between feeling disbelief and amazement that I am someone’s mother. I am Kate’s mother and that is awesome, wonderful, scary, kick-ass and exhausting.

Kate was born by unplanned c-section on May 23. By then I had been in labor for 37 hours, 16 of which were “active labor.” For the uninitiated, active labor is when the contractions are regular (3-5 min), very painful and you are usually in some phase of cervical dilation (opening) and effacement (softening). Active labor is the stuff you see on TV, but it takes hours and is before the pushing.

Kate was really making an entrance.

Good news from the DMV

I apologize this has taken me so long to post but I have a good excuse — it came in the day I went into labor (more on that later). Still, this is good news and worth sharing (via Jane, thanks Jane!).

For Immediate Release

Contact Jane Heenan
VegasCounselor@aol.com
702/810.4159
or
Maggie McLetchie
Mcletchie@aclunv.org
702/366.1226

Nevada’s Department of Motor Vehicles has changed the procedure for allowing persons to change the gender marker on their driver licenses.  The new procedure requires persons to have a licensed physician fill out Form DLD-136 (http://www.dmvnv.com/pdfforms/dld136.pdf) and to submit this form to a DMV office for processing.  This procedure replaces the DMV’s former policy that required persons to submit documentation proving completion of genital surgery before receiving a driver license with a changed gender marker.  DMV made this change in consultation with ACLU of Nevada, Equality Nevada, and other progressive advocacy groups and queer community members and allies.

ACLU Interim Director Maggie McLetchie praised the DMV response.  “The ACLU of Nevada is very pleased to announce that the DMV is making the changes we requested,” McLetchie said.  “We understand that while the changes will not go into place immediately because they need to finalize the materials, the DMV is committed to instituting a humane policy that allows people whose gender has changed to get drivers’ licenses that reflect their identity and enable them to avoid harassment and discrimination.”

Advocates, community members, and allies cheered the decision, which was announced on May 18, 2010.  “I hope the momentum from this recent victory with the DMV carries through into the legislative session” said Jude Cox, legal adviser to Equality Nevada, “and translates into a successful bill that will provide employment anti-discrimination protections to the transgender community.”

Cox was referencing the fact that legal protections for Nevada’s transgender citizens in basic areas such as employment, public accommodations, and housing do not exist, leaving tens of thousands of persons at risk of discrimination.  While legislation was introduced in the 2009 legislative session which would have ended employment discrimination against transgender persons, the bill (AB184) died in an Assembly committee.  Efforts to introduce similar legislation in the 2011 legislature are underway.  Working with the Nevada DMV to change the procedure for changing the gender marker on driver licenses was one part of these efforts.

The DMV’s former procedure was inconsistently applied and led to allegations of mistreatment by some of Nevada’s transgender and genderqueer citizens (see the recent City Life article at http://www.lasvegascitylife.com/articles/2010/05/20/news/local_news/iq_35956977.txt).

Jane goes to the bathroom

By guest-writer Jane Heenan:

Trans persons, like everyone else, need to use the public bathroom occasionally.  When we enter public bathroom, we are there, like everyone else, to use the facilities.  Fear of trans persons using public bathrooms is the “polite” way of saying, “I don’t believe you are deserving of dignity,” and obfuscates a person’s prejudice and bigotry.  Such prejudice and bigotry has been used to justify other forms of discrimination in our history, such as racial discrimination; indeed, there was a time when so-called “colored people” had to use a separate bathroom because of white persons’ fear that if bathroom use was shared something bad would happen.  We have found in the decades since such social spaces were racially desegregated that the sky has not fallen and that we can all share bathrooms without incident.  Such bigoted arguments continue to be made, however, to justify segregation of gender-different persons.

My experience in using public bathrooms along the way as I transitioned from living in the social role of a man to living as a woman to living as a queer was, I believe, rather typical and in the end my fears about this were much ado about nothing.  Still, there were experiences that I felt harmed me, particularly those that involved law enforcement and security.  I understand these experiences much more clearly now, and it is my firm belief that no one should be made to endure such struggles.

As I started my transition in the mid-1990s, I felt it was important for me to overcome my fears of getting into or causing trouble for using the bathroom.  I needed to be successful in this part of my journey, in part because I had no choice – using a public bathroom is inevitable – and in part because there was something like an affirmation available to me in a public bathroom:  if I could successfully use a “women’s bathroom” I could more confidently move through the world in the social role of a woman.  In the beginning, there were many times I chose not to use the public bathroom because I was fearful of the possible consequences.  These were times when I would be in a more crowded venue – I felt less fear when there were fewer persons around.  And, so, I experimented with using the women’s bathroom in these less-crowded circumstances and mostly tried just to go in and come out as quickly as I could.  I didn’t want contact because I believed this would create a greater chance for problems.  Of course, I found after awhile that nothing really bad happened; no one stared at me or called me names, and as my comfort level grew, I felt less restricted in using the bathroom when I felt the need to do so regardless of how many persons were around.  This was helpful in many ways for me.

The times that I found trouble were not a result of the reactions of others who were, like me, just going about their business in a public venue.  My trouble with using public bathrooms was always a result of the intervention of law enforcement or private security professionals such as those found in casinos.  Among other experiences, I had a police officer confront me in a crowded airport after I had come out of the women’s bathroom, asking me for identification, taking down my information in a note pad, and telling me that he was putting me on a “list of known transvestites.”  He further told me that if I was ever caught by a police officer using a women’s bathroom again that I would be arrested.  I was terrified by this experience and believed what he told me for some time.  I also felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about this – who would take my side against such a figure of authority?  Further, it reinforced for me the belief that police officers are mostly engaged in harassing persons; I was only using the bathroom, and there was no legitimate reason for me to be treated in the way that I was.

Another experience came when I was at a casino on a weekday afternoon.  I sat at a video poker machine for a short while and then got up to use the bathroom.  When I came out, casino security asked me to accompany them to their offices inside the casino.  Frightened and confused and not knowing what to do, I went with them.  There were several security officers present as I was made to surrender my drivers license (which they then photo-copied) and questioned over the next 20 minutes about what I was doing there and why I was wearing the clothes that I was wearing.  I was humiliated and scared about what might happen.  I didn’t know how to answer their questions – I was just trying to make honest changes in my life.  Finally, I was escorted by two officers all the way to my car in the parking lot and was told that if I ever returned to this casino that I would be arrested.  They watched me as I drove away, shaking and terrified that somehow something further would happen.

Of course, what happened was that I continued to empower myself and to work toward ending such unnecessary and harmful harassment.  I would never put up with such treatment at this point in my journey.  And I continue to believe that there is nothing wrong with persons engaging in a process of gender transition or experimentation using the public bathroom that corresponds most closely with their presentation and who they see themselves to be.  The fear about bathrooms comes down to stereotyping:  “those” kinds of persons are so different that they must be wanting to commit depraved acts such as sexually harming a young person in a bathroom.

There was a time when the bathrooms in Nevada were segregated by skin color and those who supported such laws made similar arguments about how “those” people would attack white children.  Transgender persons are just that:  persons.  We are a diverse group, although the vast majority of us only want to pee in peace when we are in a public setting.  We fear you much more than you fear us, and our fears are much more legitimate especially since “the law” is against us.  We need your support in ending or at least minimizing such fears – as persons privileged to enter such spaces without scrutiny, you are in a powerful position to support reconciliation and help put an end to harmful stereotypes.

Need a progressive voter guide for the primaries?

It’s ProgressNow Nevada to the rescue! They’ve compiled a progressive voter guide that can help you navigate the murky primary waters this season.

This season the primaries will be more important than usual in helping to whittle down crowded contests so don’t forget to get out and vote!

Early voting is from May 22-June 4 with Election Day on June 8. Get out the vote!

Somewhere Under the Rainbow

By guest-writer Jane Heenan:

The “LGBT Community” includes persons who queer the sex/gender stereotypes of our society’s heterosexist system in two ways:  violating norms of sexual orientation (gay/lesbian/bisexual persons), and violating norms of gender identity/expression (transgender persons).  Sexual orientation is about “who we love.”  Gender identity/expression is about “who we are.”

My partner and I have been together over 19 years.  (Applause, Applause!!)  In the early 1990s when we began our journey together, we were “boyfriend and girlfriend.”  And my fears of losing my partner were among the major stumbling blocks in my journey.  Such fears seemed reasonable, inevitable even; I mean, a couple can’t go through a sexual orientation change, could it?  She was straight, I was straight, but then again, I was queer, and so she was what?  Well, I’ll tell you what I believe she was:  destined to leave me and us.  For many years I never ever allowed myself to believe that my partner and I would remain together.  I am still not sure (beyond the obvious, “We worked hard”) how or why we are so lucky as to have remained together – I mean, as a therapist, I see lots of folks who cannot bridge together the changes life brings whether or not they include such brazen gender exploration.  Whatever the reasons, our ability to struggle together has allowed my partner to remain my greatest source of stability and support.

So, we started off as a hetero-normative couple, and our “boyfriend-girlfriend” status meant privilege in our society’s heterosexist system.  With such privilege, however, comes the threat of the loss of status.  Loss of status commonly correlates with fear, denial, depression.  For years, I wondered over and over who would ever want me around anywhere anytime as I became more and more visibly queer.  When anyone violates gender stereotypes, there is almost always some form of negative sanction:  a look, a comment, perhaps the denial of a job or promotion.  Some spaces can seem safer than others, and yet almost all of us spend lots of time, money, and effort to look like a “real” girl, to look like a “real” boy.  I was breaking these rules, choosing to look like a “girl” even though I was a “boy.”

This, of course, impacted my relationship with my partner.  And, while we are still together, we are now something else.  (Yes, we are, indeed!)  But what to call us?  Who are we?  It is an essential corollary to the question, “Who am I?” because we human beings only have meaning in relationship to other human beings and to whatever else makes up our environment.  This is a basic sociological premise, a basic premise in my work as a Gestalt therapist.  And it’s an important part of clarifying experience somewhere under the rainbow.

When we are out in the world, I have no doubt that most persons who encounter us would use the label “lesbian” to describe our relationship.  But, my partner doesn’t see herself as lesbian.  And I don’t self-identify as a woman.  These labels don’t work for us, and they hide our lived experience, making it invisible.

How to define the lived experience of fluid on-going gender identity and expression – and particularly how this relates to constructs of sexual orientation – has long been the basis for a great deal of conflict within queer communities here in Southern Nevada as well as in many queer communities throughout the world.  For, while the rainbow is supposed include us all in its many colors, those colors that self-identify as lesbian/gay are privileged.  And this privilege creates conflict.

Sin City Motherhood

Well, I’m not quite a mother — yet. Today I am one week from my due date (May 21), bigger than ever and ready for this part of the journey to be over (I think). One way or another, this journey is ending pretty soon!

And I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been a bit of an absent-minded blogger over the past week. I didn’t mean to be. I’m just in the last days of preparing for baby and I don’t have the energy I normally do.

To be honest, there’s something about the last days of pregnancy — probably a mixture of fatigue, hormones and last-minute details — that cause you to refine the scope of your gaze. These days I care more about what’s happening inside the walls of my home than outside. I know there are things happening in the world out there, important things. I just don’t care these days.

So Sirens, this is me signing off for a while. The Sin City Siren is going on maternity leave! I’ll check in from time to time. And I’ve got some guest writers lined up (right, guest writers? no flaking! ). So hopefully you’ll get enough of a fix between now and my return to hang in there. Even feisty feminist bloggers need breaks every now and then.

Thank you to everyone for being so supportive of The Siren, me and my new role as a mom. I have this feeling that the best is yet to come.

Until I return paint a sign for me, rant at the establishment and never be afraid to raise a little hell!

Spill, Baby, Spill

At 8 months and 3 weeks pregnant I won’t be able to rally, but I’ll be there in spirit!

As images from the oil spill in the Gulf Coast continue to pour in this week, we are vividly reminded of the potential consequences of our choices for energy sources.This spill – and others like it that will surely happen in the future – is the direct result of the choices our elected officials have made about our nation’s energy sources.

At a candidate debate Sunday a new group of people who wish to make “Drill, Baby, Drill” our energy policy will be speaking and sharing their ideas.

Join ProgressNow Nevada and the Sierra Club this Sunday as we rally for clean energy outside this candidate debate for U.S. Senate.

They won’t want to talk about the oil spill or the tough choices that need to be made to make America independent from both foreign oil and ecological disasters like that in the Gulf Coast. They want to talk about more drilling.

Let’s show them that “Drill, Baby, Drill” is not an option.

Join us on Sunday as we demand strong clean energy policies from those who wish to represent us.

When: Sunday, May 16 1:00 p.m. – 2:00 p.m.
Where: Outside of Findlay Toyota in Henderson (7733 Eastgate Road)

We’ll bring the water and sunscreen, you bring the spirit.

P.S. We will be making signs and other materials for the rally at the Sierra Club offices this Friday from 1:00 – 4:00 p.m. Feel free to join us! We’ll provide the markers and poster board. The offices are located at 732 S. Sixth St., Suite 200B, Las Vegas, NV.