Sunday, August 26, 2018

How I REALLY feel about turning 40.


“Over the hill.” The phrase conjures images of black balloons and middle-age crises. Turning 40 means your life might as well be over, because it’s “all downhill from here.”

But then I turned 39, and the reality of 40 stared me down. I fought the urge to flinch. Was it possible that my best days were behind me? I was determined that the trajectory of my life would not decline. I would make 39 the year that I really discovered who I am and what I really want. And more than that, 39 would be the year I acted. I would create real changes and start to live my life accordingly.

So today, on my 40th birthday, I make the following declarations:

It is never a mistake to show love. Even when beliefs differ, common values can unite us. 

The best course of action is almost never proposed by the far right or the far left.

My marriage is worth more than mediocre effort and long-established habits. My husband deserves more than my complacency, and I deserve more than his.

True friends are worth their weight in gold. I will cultivate relationships with the women who see my worth and I will help them to see their worth as well.

I will make it a point to spend time alone, because I like myself and because time alone puts my priorities in perspective.

My dreams are worth chasing. I will apply for the Ph.D. program because if I don’t, I will regret it in five years – also, because I will be a damn good professor.

My body is my story, and it deserves the same grace and love that everything else in my life deserves.


I will not waste my time or money on cheap ice cream or cheap deli meat.


I will run a half-marathon because the process of training will help me discover whether I can ever experience the elusive “runner’s high.” If I can’t, I will never run again, and I will not feel bad about it.

To 40, I say bring it on. We’re going to have such fun together.

Thursday, July 26, 2018

If I had the time and energy to respond to every Facebook comment...

The issue of the day is breastfeeding. It has been popping up in my social media feed from a variety of sources and with a variety of viewpoints. The Trump administration took a controversial stand on an international resolution (see this link for a conservative response to the NY Times article). A few days ago I read an interesting article titled "Why it's so crucial to support colleagues who pump breast milk at work," which contains links to two scientific research studies.

I read about an incident where police were called because women were breastfeeding their babies at a public swimming pool. And then there was this gem about a woman and her husband losing their temple recommends because she was breastfeeding at church without a cover.

I'm not going to rant about these two particular stories. I already did that to my husband, and he is tired of it. He did kindly point out that in the case of the temple recommends, we only know the side of the story presented by the woman. The church leader who made that call would be completely out of line if he discussed this decision with the media (even more out of line than denying the recommend, in my opinion). So we are taking this woman at her word when she says it was entirely about her refusal to cover up while she breastfed. (Although I don't have any reason to disbelieve her account.)

But like I said, I'm not going to rant about these particular stories. I've just been thinking about the comments that were made by readers in response to these articles and in response to each other. Some of the comments are supportive of breastfeeding mothers. Some commenters are trying to walk a fine line between support and condemnation ("I like what you do, just not how you do it"), and others are just downright mean.

Here are some of the most common or interesting comments, and my thoughts about them.

"I don't want to see your boob hanging out." Oh, good. I'd be worried if you did. But here's the great thing: Nobody is making you look. Your discomfort doesn't dictate another person's options. The fact is, we all do things that other people might not like. And we train ourselves to look away from things we don't like. I don't like horror movies, or indoor cats, or avocado green bathroom fixtures, or fake plants. I don't like that people put dogs in grocery store shopping carts. Gross. But me not liking something doesn't mean I get to go into a public place and demand that other people change their behavior.

"It isn't modest." This was the argument used by the woman's leader when he refused to give her a temple recommend. I will just say that modesty has a lot more to do with attitude and behavior than with clothing, and we do our young women (and apparently our adult women as well) a disservice by focusing solely on their clothing when we have these discussions and teach these principles.

"Just use a blanket." I don't breastfeed anymore. My youngest is 8 and that ship has sailed. But when they were babies, I breastfed them whenever I needed to. I tried to be discreet, but sometimes I wasn't very good at it. I hated using blankets because it got too hot. And it was another thing to wrangle besides a squirmy baby and my shirt and my nursing bra and my nursing pads. And when I had toddlers, I often had to wrangle them too while I was trying to breastfeed an infant. Sometimes I did use a blanket - usually because I was uncomfortable getting the baby situated and didn't want to expose myself in front of certain people, such as my father-in-law or my grandpa. But I made those decisions based on MY comfort level, not out of concern for anyone else. They have muscles in their eyes and neck that allow them to look away. 

"Go breastfeed in the bathroom" This is one of my favorite comments because it is just so ridiculous. Think about the logistics of that for a minute, beyond the fact that many public restrooms are noisy, dirty, and stinky. The only seats provided in most of them are of the toilet variety. And for the most part, those toilets don't have lids. So that means you are telling a woman to go sit on an open toilet to feed her child. Gag. Also, what am I supposed to do if I have other children with me? I can't leave them unsupervised, and you can bet they won't fit into that stall with me. I would bet that most women out and about with a breastfeeding child have at least one older child tagging along. I don't have statistics on that, but I have three kids, so two-thirds of my children had older siblings with us while we lived our lives.

Here is the more palatable alternative to the bathroom: "We have a mother's room for just that reason." Some businesses and most LDS churches have mother's rooms. They can be a great option. But they can also be terrible. In my previous church building, the diaper pail wasn't emptied regularly, so it was stinky. There were two rocking chairs in a room the size of a modest walk-in closet. It was HOT (which didn't help the stinky diaper pail issue), and those two chairs were in high demand during times that we had two congregations in the building. And they weren't only used by nursing mothers. Women whose kids were acting up sought them out as well. I've seen mother's rooms with only one chair. This just isn't always a feasible option. And even when it's feasible, it should be up to the mother to decide if that works for her. 

I remember one particularly difficult time with one of my babies. I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted. Looking back, I was probably suffering from mild post-partum depression. I needed church. I needed to be able to sit with my fellow worshipers and be a part of that community. I was already feeling alone and unseen, and I just didn't have it in me to go isolate myself in the mother's room. So for the first time, I breastfed my baby in sacrament meeting. And you know what happened? Not a thing. The meeting went on as if nothing was happening. Afterward, an older sister told me she was happy I had stayed and that she wished more women would stay. And I went home uplifted because I had been able to take the sacrament, worship and sing with my fellow congregants, AND feed my baby.

"I don't want my husband (also insert son, recovering porn addict, etc.) to see your naked breast. He might get sexually excited." I will not speak today to having a recovering porn addict that I'm worried about. But I will speak to having a husband and a 13-year-old son. And I don't want them staring at naked breasts inappropriately. So what do I do? I teach my son to look women in the eye and I expect my husband to do the same. In the event that they see someone's breast while she is breastfeeding, I expect them to look away. That mother isn't out to sexually tempt my husband or son by feeding her child.

Here's another favorite: "What would Jesus do? He wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable." Yes. This is a real comment that was on the article about the woman who lost her temple recommend. The commenter was making the argument that Jesus would have gone to the other room so that others wouldn't be uncomfortable. Personally, I can't think of a single time when Jesus catered His actions to the comfort of others. But I can think of cases where He called the little children to Him and blessed them. I think the comfort and care of these little children was more important to Him than the discomfort of onlookers. Remember, He chastised His own disciples for turning the children away. What would Jesus do? I think He'd tell the onlookers to look away and mind their own business - to focus on the beam rather than the mote. And he'd tell the mother to feed her child.

And here's another thing. You can't use the phrase "What would Jesus do?" as a way to enforce YOUR idea of what Jesus would do. You can only use it to determine your own actions. So if the person who asks what Jesus would do truly believe that He would leave the room, then she should follow that example and leave the room when she breastfeeds.

Nationwide, laws protect a woman's right to breastfeed in any public or private place where she and her child are legally allowed to be, regardless of exposure of her breast (including nipple) incidental to and before and after breastfeeding.

See that period at the end of the sentence? That's because it's a period. End of story. No caveats, exceptions, or conditions. (See the National Conference of State Legislatures website for more information and for links to specific laws in each state.)

I never had anyone criticize me for breastfeeding. For the most part, people looked at me, looked down to see what was going on, realized I was breastfeeding, and looked back at my face and kept talking to me. Funny how that works. There was the one man in a cafe in New York City. I was feeding Faith (6 months old) and he sat down at the same table to wait for his order to be filled. When he realized I was breastfeeding, he immediately turned around most awkwardly in his chair and looked very embarrassed. I kind of wish I had started a conversation with him just to show him that breastfeeding women can also be functioning members of society.

Anyway, I want my friends and relatives who breastfeed to do so with minimal burdens placed on them. Isn't the burden of breastfeeding enough? And please don't start with me about how breastfeeding is natural and wonderful and not a burden at all. I won't argue that point. Breastfeeding is natural and wonderful. It can also be challenging and painful and tricky and awful, especially for a new mom, but even for seasoned moms. Let's allow mothers all the options, and let them choose what works best for them.

*** Also, I use parentheses a lot.  :)