The Making of Mini-Me

It's the most. GODAWFUL. Tiiiiiime...of the year.

I'm speaking of course, about those 9 months of the year in a woman's life, called pregnancy. Oh, I know, there are so many women out there who would get all snippy with me and wax on about "the miracle of it all" and how beautiful, and shiny, and everything wondrous that they feel.

Well, it wasn't that way with me.

Sick in the morning, sick at noon, sick at night. I have more synonyms for throwing up than I strictly need, thanks to that time of my life. Puke, hurl, toss my cookies, throw chunks, worship the porcelain goddess (hey, my toilet is female). My low point was the day when I slipped on my own vomit while running to the trash can, and falling on my pregnant butt. I promptly burst out in angry tears. If Martha Stewart were before me at that moment, I would have drop kicked her as retribution against all things maternal or feminine. Or maybe just puked on her nice clothes.

Point being, I was not a happy pregnant woman. Not just because the physical aspects were a pain in my...butt...but primarily because it was an unexpected (and unwanted) pregnancy. I was married, my husband I had a nice apartment, and we both had jobs, and two spoiled cats. Why in the world would anyone willingly go screw up such a fantastic set-up in order to reproduce? I figured, the world had enough babies and kids in it already. I mean, humanity seemed to have covered the "multiply and fill the earth" pretty well already, as well as spoiling the earth with all their disposable diapers and other baby stuff. And, anyway, I didn't have the right temperament for kids, because you know, I wasn't one of those simpering female whose top five hobbies included scrapbooking, sewing doilies, and watching Lifetime.

Yeah, it's true, I was a childless snob. Even worse, I was a facetious, greener-than-thou childless snob. Ha! It was like throwing a neon boomerang at karma when she's PMS'ing. In other words, I should have seen it coming.

The pregnancy, that is.

Because one day I took a pregnancy test and nearly passed out when it turned positive. Followed by three more tests in quick succession, all of them obdurately staring back with their smug little plus signs. It was infuriating. It was terrifying!

But, the pregnancy and the birth ended up giving me more than just meeting the best person, the most amazing, the most exasperating, and endearing little spirit to grace my life. I think one of the things I was most worried about was becoming one of those women...you know those mothers whose every other sentence is "My Christopher" this and "My Molly" that. I was afraid of being reduced to becoming a body in orbit around the sphere of my child's existence, having no other purpose. And I have seen and met mothers like that, whose only purpose in life is caring for their kids.

Now, though, I have to fight myself to let him take those little steps of independence from me. I carry with me the same wound, the same vulnerability of spirit that every mother does, that of the impossible love she feels for her child. Impossible in that she has such a powerful emotional need to care for and protect, yet knowing she must let that child go out eventually and face innumerable dangers and risks.

No, I can't protect him from everything, and I suppose the arrogance of my childless existence has served one purpose--it has reminded me not to make my son my only purpose in life. But, it's funny because even my desire to be a Health educator is the result of my experiences during pregnancy, and later during his medical issues with asthma. So, in way, my son is the reason even for my choice in career. Before I had him, I didn't know what I wanted to do.

As a woman, and as a mother, I have come to appreciate aspects of both childlessness and with having a child. I want to make clear that my own laughable hubris in my pre-Jackson years is just that--mine. I don't transfer that to others who willingly choose to remain childless. I am very offended on behalf of those who are accused of being selfish because they don't want to have children. On the contrary, I believe that many of the reasons behind why people choose to have children can absolutely qualify as being "selfish," with having a baby in order to have "someone love me" being among the foremost.

I also think that there are valid reasons behind either choice. In my case, my choice was preempted by birth control failure. I would wish that every woman who wishes children could have them, and those who do not, would not be faced with an unexpected pregnancy. Both situations are extremely stressful when not the choice of the woman involved, and I suppose the most important thing I learned from my experience was not to make hard assumptions. About either myself, or others. Having a child is a tremendous life event (to say the very least), and different women will react differently to it.

And now, to exploit this post by putting up a gratuitous picture of my son, in the tradition of proud and annoying mothers everywhere. Hmmm, he looks kind of impish here. Like the kind of kid I would have found really annoying before I had him. Of course, I think he's the greatest now. ;)

Stampeding toward the clitoris

The question of whether sex education should be included in public school curricula is one that has been revisted often in the media and in countless school board meetings across the country. I would like someone to explain to me how one may go to school, and learn about human history, sociology, science, mathematics, music, the arts, and so on---but not learn about human reproduction? The only reason why such a gap in education is tolerated, indeed, insisted upon in by some parties, is due to the near superstitious belief that the more thorough one's sexual education is, the more likely one is to (recklessly) engage in sexual behavior. This same premise seems to be the impetus driving those who argue for "abstinence-only" programs as well--that is, sex education which explains the mechanics of sex, but does not cover any contraceptive methods.

Now, I could go into studies to show the absurdity of such an argument, but I'd rather just put it to my readers this way: in all of human history, can anyone point out to me one instance where lack of information, and general ignorance led to overall better decision-making? Where a dearth of knowledge regarding potential risks or threats was a good thing, and led to sound choices? Because, I'm just going to put on my Health Studies educator-in-training suit right now and tell you, good readers, I sure can think of many instances where lack of information often leads to poor choices. In short, what you don't know can hurt you. It can even kill you.

And in the case of sex education, I believe incomplete knowledge can and does most definitely harm teenagers and young adults. It is not enough to simply know, for example, that human papillomavirus exists and may be contracted by genital contact; the other part of prevention is knowing how to protect oneself against said virus during sex. After all, the real issue is this: abstinence-only education is designed to meet only the needs of those students who choose to abstain.

But what about those students who will elect to have sex regardless? What about those students who are raped? And what about those students who will marry early, either right after high school or shortly after entering college? Don't they deserve to enlightened as to their particular risks? Do they not have the right to know and understand how their bodies work and how best to protect themselves from dangerous pathogens?

Will someone take them aside and say, "Oh, now you're legitimately sexually active, so we'll go ahead and explain to you how to protect yourself." I doubt it. My husband, who was educated entirely in a private, Baptist school had no sex education provided at all, save what he heard on the street, and what he read in men's magazines. He was at risk of contracting diseases when he became sexually active. And in fact, a girl in his school became pregnant in her senior year, and he knew several classmates who were sexually active as well. Obviously, the "don't talk about it and they won't do it" approach accomplished nothing except see a bunch of horny, repressed adolescents engage in risky behavior sans any factual knowledge whatsoever, and no protection.

Of course, the next logical question would be, "What should a well-designed, and balanced sexual education program look like?" I was thinking something along the lines of a demonstration of a condom-on-a-banana.

Ok, not really. Though I know someone who absolutely rejects the idea of "explicit sex-ed" (how exactly does one teach sex non-explicitly??) in schools because she believes it would involve a cartoonish demonstration of penile-shaped fruits inserted into condoms. Seriously.

But, in case she's reading this, I have included the following video as an example of what every godless, secularized liberal like myself really thinks a sex ed class should look like.

Warnings: staid intercourse, bored teenagers, full-frontal Murphy bed, clothes peg references

Cheerio!

My Health

I have to say that reading the self-assessment for preventative health practices in my Women's Health text this week, I had to suppress a tinge of exasperated humor. Not because any of the suggestions lacked merit, but because, as is typical, (and understandably so), most of the "tips" are geared more towards 18-22 year old demographic. Not a 31 year old, married-with-one-five-year-old, sedate and tame mom. The paraphrased list in question:

1. Are you eating a healthy diet with lots of fruits and veggies?
No. I make my son eat his veggies though before he gets to have a cookie. Hehehehe...life's not fair.

2. Do you engage in moderate exercise at least 4 times a week?
I clean house, I regularly haul groceries up the steps to our apartment, and I always take the stairs on campus because I have an elevator phobia. So, yes.

3. Do you sleep enough to not feel tired during the day?
Ha! I grab sleep at every opportunity, and I usually feel alert. Any leftover lethargy gets taken care of by a trip to Starbucks.

4. Do you use tobacco or drugs?
I have never smoked, but I regularly use over-the-counter drugs, in the form of ibuprofen and aspirin. See, I have this little problem called age, and it causes all kinds of aches and pains!

5. If you drink alcohol, do you limit your intake?
Absolutely. Er, frequently. Sometimes. Probably.

6. Do you use protection when engaging in sex?
I'm married, with progeny. What's sex?

7. Do you find ways to reduce stress such as hanging out with friends?
See question number 5.

8. Do you practice good safety habits like wearing a seat belt or helmut, while riding a motorcycle?
Religiously. Texan drivers are too freaking insane for me not to buckle up.

9. Do you use nonviolent methods of conflict resolution?
Sometimes I use heavy-handed sarcasm, but other than that, I'm peaceful.

10. Do you seek preventative care routinely?
Well, I get my yearly oil-n'-lube from the OB/Gyn, and I had my first mammogram just a few weeks ago, so I suppose so.


So, that's it. See what I mean? Some of the questions are relevant to my situation, but a lot of them made me chuckle. Of course, it sounds like I don't take the issue of preventative health very seriously. Actually, I do, and I'm not really a lush who never eats her vegetables. I think my health is one of the few things I have an ability to influence, and I do what I can to keep myself in good health, both physically and mentally. Overall, I'd rate my preventative practices as decent, but there's room for improvement. If I, and many others, were to make an effort to eat and exercise better, it would go a long way in helping to solve our health care crisis (Alexander & LaRosa, et. al., 2007, p.55). Furthermore, it is my opinion that Americans are in poorer health than their European cousins for three reasons: they eat bigger portions, they walk a lot less, and they don't drink enough red wine.

For myself, I live in the mid-cities region of the Dallas-Ft. Worth Metroplex, and our apartment complex is right down the street from two grocery stores, a video store, and numerous other shops. I have to admit, it does give me a profound feeling of superiority to walk to the doughnut store across the street, rather than drive. ;)

Sources:

Alexander, L. L., LaRosa, J. H., Bader, H., & Garfield, S. (2007). New Dimensions in Women's Health (4th ed.). Sadbury, Massachusetts: Jones and Bartlett Publishers.

Image retrieved from http://www.mayyoubeforeveryoung.com/

Image retrieved from http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/images/jmiles/2007/12/18/1012red-wine-posters.jpg

Sicko, revisted

When I read that the topic of my Women's Health class this week would be focused on the economics of health care, I decided to mentally prepare myself renting and watching the movie, "Sicko," by Michael Moore. I'm still emotionally recovering from it. However, it did the trick. My righteous indignation has been ignited, not to mention a healthy dose of anger about the health care situation in the US.

This is a very difficult subject for me, as I find the polemics involved in the debate over whether the U.S. should go to a universal, single-payor system to be quite disturbing in regards to one significant respect. It is not the squabbles over cost which cause me difficulty, nor is it the arguments over whether such a system should be federally regulated and controlled rather than having state-governed and financed health plans. Neither am I upset over how people are arguing how consumers or doctors would protect their interests against government-mandated initiatives, such as schedules for preventative care. In my opinion, all of these debates raise legitimate concerns which are integral to resolving the crisis which is the U.S. health care system.

One question, however, does most definitely have a negative effect on my equanimity, and that is, "Why should health care be considered a right?" It is a question I have had posed to me in more debates on this issue than I can count, and often, it is posed within the larger context of health care being viewed as a business venture, and therefore subject to the vagaries of corporate investment schemes and the pursuit of personal gain. This concept is mind-boggling to me, but I suppose is no more than the sum result of decades of a powerful trend towards privatization in all sectors of service, as evidenced by such examples as the airline and utilities industries. That movement, combined with skyrocketing costs, obscene profits, and an explosion in the size of corporate growth in medical care, has gifted us with a health care system which considers the healing of a human being to be a commodity first, and a social or ethical imperative second.

How else do we explain how one of the richest, and most powerful countries in the world permits thousands of Americans to die from lack of health care, or insufficient access to the same? According to the Institute of Medicine (as cited by the National Coalition on Health Care, 2008), approximately 18,000 uninsured adults die every year in the U.S. This figure does not even include any deaths of children, a grim prospect considering that 8.5 million children are uninsured (Alexander, La Rosa, Bader, & Garfield, 2007).

Those numbers are shocking, indefensible, especially when considering that we went to war with not one, but two nations over the deaths of about 2,800 people, costing us the lives of thousands more men and women in our armed services, and untold billions of dollars. Why is there no similar outcry and call for action for the tens of thousands fallen due to...lack of access to health care?

But to answer that, I come back to the original question. "Why should health care be a right?" And I answer, "Why should it not be a right?" Should firefighters wait for a third-party authorization before consenting to douse your burning house, or dive in to rescue your screaming children? Should teachers in our public schools wait until you have written your co-pay before allowing your child to register for an education? Should the police man who answers your call at the mall check to see if your policy covers "out-of-network" law enforcement before going after the perp who has just kidnapped your child?

Do these questions sound absurd? They would to most Americans--but only because we already live in a society which takes these services for granted, because we have deemed the cost of not providing them to be too steep to us as individual communities, and to us as a nation. How this attitude of affording each person protection from criminals, rescue from danger, and an education, and so on, would not translate to providing health and protection against disease and financial ruin is beyond me. To me, it should be a given, and in fact, in every other Western, post-industrialized nation, universal health care is the standard. Even Cuba offers its citizens health care, and in fact, not incoincidentally has a lower infant mortality rate than the U.S (CIA, 2008).

We have tried the free market, private sector, every-man-for-himself approach. And we have 18,000+ dead Americans a year to show for it, not to mention one of the most expensive systems in the world (NCHC, 2008). In my opinion, universal health care should not only be a right, but is a necessity. In order to preserve our ideals, and our very way of life, we must achieve universal care. For, a diseased and unhealthy society will ultimately be a short-lived one--in every sense of the word.

Sources:

Alexander, L. L., LaRosa, J. H., Bader, H., & Garfield, S. (2007). New Dimensions in Women's
Health (4th ed.). Sadbury, Massachusetts: Jones and Bartlett Publishers.

Central Intelligence Agency. (2008). [Graph illustration the rank order of infant mortality].
The World Factbook. Retrieved on July 6, 2008 from
https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/rankorder/2091rank.html

National Center for Health Care. (2008). Facts about health care: health care insurance.
Retrieved on July 6, 2008 from http://www.nchc.org/facts/coverage.shtml

Image retrieved from http://community.livejournal.com/politicartoons