What Is A Woman For?

Break was glorious and Vermont was relaxing and rejuvenating. I couldn't do the outdoor activities, just a little bit of walking around the village, but I could read. And I did -- a book a day. It was lovely. 

And, weirdly, every single book I read from Monday on had an infertility and/or loss piece to it. Some tiny, some central. 

Two in the middle, Love and Saffron by Kim Fay and The Book of Goose by Yuyumi Li, had characters who were childless not by choice but mainly by male factor infertility. It wasn't even remotely the biggest thing in either book (both lovely but very different). 

Thick, a book of essays by Tressie McMillan Cottom, took me by surprise with an essay about the loss of her daughter at 20 weeks due to racism in the medical system. Elsewhere in the collection she mentions being single and childless and happy to live alone, which confuses people. She wrote about her loss and reasons for it and the horrific record of Black maternal and baby death our country, and it was one of 8 essays. (Highly recommend.)

But then, I chose to read a book that was entirely about infertility, and unintended pregnancy, and motherhood: Red Clocks by Leni Zumas. I have had this book on my radar for years, but then forgot about it until I saw it at my small independent bookstore, used. I don't think I could have read it and enjoyed it earlier (it came out in 2018). It is visceral, and raw. 

The tagline on the back cover reads, "Five women, one question: WHAT IS A WOMAN FOR?" 

You have "the biographer," a woman who is happily single, 41, and trying to get pregnant through IUI. Who is also writing a biography of a Faroese ice explorer who was lost to history because she had to publish through a man because massive sexism, but pushed through expectations to go out and study ice packs as a scientist. 

You have "the daughter," a teenage girl who has to make choices when she faces pregnancy. 

You have "the mender,"  an herbalist living like a hermit in the woods, providing natural gynecological care of all kinds. 

And you have "the wife," a stay-at-home mom to two children she loves but who is facing a problematic marriage and identity crisis. 

All of them live in Oregon, in a timeline where Roe v Wade has been struck down (before it actually was in real life), where abortion is illegal in all 50 states, where IVF is illegal because of a Personhood bill that considers embryo destruction murder, where adoption is about to be only for married couples due to the Every Child Needs Two Act, and where a Pink Wall exists between the U.S. and Canada where Canada will uphold U.S. law and send "terminators" back to be prosecuted in the name of "alliance." 

I was worried at first that it was going to be trope-y, that it would have pitfalls. It totally didn't. And the only inaccuracy that I found to be mad about was calling an 8-celled embryo a blastocyst (um, no). Everything else was highly accurate. And the storylines of being a mother but having lost other identities, of not wanting to be a mother yet and having limited choices, of desperately wanting to be a mother but finding it difficult, and someone who wants to help women with various choices... they were lovely. They all played against each other and intertwined and showed how everyone makes assumptions and judges and can be blinded by wants. That there are no easy answers to anything. That what one person desires is another's worst nightmare, and it's all much more complicated and dire when the government decides instead of those who have the bodies in question. (I loved that one character called the old white men in D.C. who voted for all the laws "the walruses.")

I really, really loved it. It was beautifully written, although not something I would have been able to handle in the raw days. And it's speculative fiction, less futuristic than The Handmaid's Tale but chilling in how quickly things become true. 

And the cover is a not-so-stealth origami-style vulva, which I find hilarious. 

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy! 

What IS Self-Care?

It is finally February Break (a weeklong phenomenon only in parts of the country), and I am so grateful. 

The Friday before, we all received an email from the technology/instructional coaches, about a professional development opportunity OVER BREAK. And, to make it worse, it was a "wellness challenge." I was swiftly filled with the fury of a million murder hornets. THIS IS BREAK! I fumed. HOW DARE YOU INFILTRATE IT WITH ONE MORE FREAKING THING TO DO IN THE NAME OF "SELF CARE!"

Well, I am glad I clicked on the link (perhaps out of rage research), because it was not at all what I thought it was. I thought it was going to be one of those horrid calendars that are about weight loss or how many planks you can do by the end of break. I thought it was going to be the sort of self-care "work" that workplaces put out to make you think they care, but actually are meant to guilt you into working yourself further into the ground (and adding to your to-do list). 

It's actually a fun scavenger hunt in the app GooseChase, where we get an hour and a half PD credit (90 hours of credit = a small bump to our base salaries, which add up over time) to accept and log challenges like "sleep in," "write the definition of hygge," "read a book and post a picture," "do a puzzle," and then weirder ones like "get a receipt or a photo of you with exactly $.11 of gas" and "find a license plate where the numbers add up to exactly 11." NONE of it is related to instruction. NONE of it is a juice cleanse or plank challenge. 

So of course, I signed up, and it's entertaining to see the challenges (I didn't think 11 cents of gas was even possible, but apparently it's .03 gallons here currently), and to get PD credit for literally relaxing and doing silly things. Some are things I've meant to do but have not had time, like "declutter an area of your house" or "spend 30 minutes doing a hobby you haven't done in a long time because you've been too busy." I'm going to get my violin out later today. Not sure why it took an app to remind me that I miss it. 

It's entertaining, and fills me with zero rage. However, I have to say that the best self care initiative was our building leadership giving us release time to work on IEPs the week before break, so that "we can truly enjoy break and not use it for work." OMG, it was wonderful. I still had 3-4 hours I had to do on Sunday, but I plowed through it and now I am doing NOTHING ELSE school-related for the rest of break. (Other than mailing said paperwork today, and dropping off my laptop at school so I hold myself accountable.) THAT is a true self-care initiative -- something that is provided by work that says you are valued, we want you to come back refreshed, and we KNOW that most special education teachers use at least half of February break for IEP writing. I'll take that any day! 

We are going to Vermont tomorrow through Saturday (and have a house sitter, so no killers) and it is going to be glorious. I will have nothing over my head. I will just bring books and maybe some mini puzzles and a notebook. Sadly, I won't be able to hike (knee nonsense), but I will sit by a fireplace and read and truly relax and melt away. Which is the best kind of self-care. 

Finding Fault

I've had a lot of opportunities lately to talk about my experiences with infertility, and I keep thinking about fault finding, and guilt, and not finding "success."

So many things are out there to make you feel like you have control when you don't, or to tell a nice story (on the surface) to make you feel like you have a chance. You do the acupuncture, the yoga, the wheatgrass shots, the visualizations, the odd ritualistic things. You do it because someone tells you it worked for them, or there's some vague statistic saying it increases the odds even half a percentage point. This is how I burned my inner thighs kneeling/straddling a hot pot full of witchy herbs to "steam my vagina" and "soften my cervix," and how I  snapped at Bryce for blowing out and not snuffing the red candles I'd lit all over the house like we were a freaking cathedral. 

So many things were recommended because it worked for someone else. But nothing worked for me... so the conclusion became, "I didn't do enough." I didn't have the strength to give up cheese, I wasn't committed enough to do acupuncture AND herbs. Maybe I let a negative thought sneak into my guided meditation. 

NONE OF THAT MATTERED. I drove myself (and those around me) crazy with odd rituals and insistence that I could control outcomes LITERALLY NO ONE CAN CONTROL. I cried when a meditation in fertility yoga encouraged us to "invite our baby to come to us" when I had recently miscarried. If you invite your baby and you happen to get pregnant, that's going to seem amazing and useful! If your baby accepted your invitation and then ghosted you, leaving you brokenhearted, how does that make a body feel? (Not good. Rejected. Not worthy. Guilt riddled. Deficient.)

I wish I could tell myself that no one has that power... People just get lucky. You can throw all kinds of money at it (if you are privileged to have it to throw) and you can STILL not have a baby. It doesn't make you less than. It doesn't mean you didn't do whatever arbitrary bar is considered "enough." I wish I could say to my younger self, "YOU ARE ENOUGH. IT'S NOT YOU. YOU DON'T HAVE TO DESTROY YOURSELF IN PURSUIT OF "ENOUGH."

I can tell myself now, and I can share with you. No one has the secret. Everyone's ENOUGH is different. Having a baby doesn't make anyone more worthy or successful or inviting. Red candles from Target will not get you pregnant. Give yourself grace, you deserve that. 

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy! 

Discouragement and Determination

I went to the injection specialist orthopedic guy last week, and the messaging left a lot to be desired. Words like "degenerative disease with no cure" were used for what has been deemed post-traumatic osteoarthritis of the knee. I am bone on bone at the patellofemoral joint, and the weight-bearing joint is not there yet but I am growing bone at the friction points (apparently not a superpower but a source of spurs), the space is collapsed and putting pressure on my meniscus most likely, and that is going to degenerate further. 

I was told I should not get on the treadmill anymore, not even to walk. I was told that hiking with any elevations is a very very bad idea. I was told that biking could be good, but oh wait, the patella is involved and so actually, no, don't bike either. How about swimming? You could swim (chlorine aggravates my asthma). Pilates is thankfully still on the table. I'm guessing tap dancing is way, way off. 

And then he said "you won't be eligible for a knee replacement until SIXTY." WHAT? What happened to FIFTY? I was pissed at that, but now a whole additional decade has been tacked on? 

He said that the lifespan of the replacement is 20 years, so I'm way too young to get one. The gel injections aren't the wonderdrug I thought they were, they are marginally better than cortisone shots.

He also said that it would help if I lost some weight, but HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT IF MY MOVEMENT OPTIONS ARE SO LIMITED? 

I left crying. 

I am going to get a second opinion. Another teacher at my school had a replacement in her late 40s and her doctor has a new technique with a life span of 30 years, and he believes in "quality, not quantity." 

Because honestly, Bryce and I had plans when he was done with his PhD to go hiking and go to Scotland and Italy and Nordic countries. Places with, you know, ELEVATION. Why would I wait until I'm 60 to be able to do those sort of things when 60 frankly isn't promised to me? To anyone? I don't want to be facing a busted bionic knee at 60 or even 70, but I don't want to take my years where I want to be the most active and adventurous and be like, "oh well, you go hike and go up that Scottish castle, I'll just pop wheelies in a scooter in the parking lot." NO. 

Frustrated. Disappointed. But also determined to find a better solution. I'm so angry that my body just keeps letting me down. 

Want to read more Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy! 

Relieving Pressure

I have the propensity to be a bit... Obsessive. Or maybe the word I'm looking for is compulsive? I get sucked into things that I feel I HAVE to do, or get started on something and cannot stop. 

Puzzles, for example. I love the satisfying problem solving in a very low-stakes scale with the added benefit of listening to a podcast while I puzzle. The problem is, once I start a puzzle, it is very, very hard for me to stop. First, I sort the pieces by edge/not-edge. Then I sort the remaining pieces by color as best I can, using handy dandy puzzle sorting trays. Then I put the edge together, and then I pick sections to complete. I had better have nothing pressing to do when sorting or doing the frame, because it is near impossible for me to stop. I can literally lose hours. Bryce has had to turn the lights off in the room I'm in to help me step away. 

I try to find puzzles with sections, puzzles with mini-puzzles inside them (like book covers), so that I can chunk it a bit. And, the other day, I started doing a puzzle and it frustrated me so I said, NOT TODAY, FRUSTRATING MONARCH BUTTERFLY PUZZLE and put it away. Progress.

Another thing I wish I hadn't known about (and now curse you with) is peeling canned chickpeas. They are so much less gritty without their skins, and they taste somehow "fresher," and it is SO SATISFYING. Slipping them out of their skins with a gentle pinch is glorious. Now I can't NOT do it. I do think the texture is worth it. 

I quit doing Wordle, Quordle, and Worldle. It became something I had to do, and especially with Wordle I would get obsessed with my high win record. Which you lose if you forget to play. After a while, it would be 10:00 pm and I would realize OH SHIT, I FORGOT TO WORDLE! and I would do it, joylessly and under a clock when I knew I should be in bed. No fun. It took a lot to miss the first one on purpose, but I haven't been back. It caused me too much stress for something that is supposed to be something entertaining. 

I also took a hiatus from Facebook for January. I typically don't feel great while scrolling through (and the ads keep convincing me to buy crap! Although I stand by the Uproot thingie for cleaning cat hair from carpets and upholstery, that thing is magical). It can easily suck time away. I'll probably go back, but it's nice being on a bit of a cleanse. A dry January for social media, since I don't see the value in actual dry January. Damp January, maybe. 

This propensity to take things to a stressful level is a pattern for me. I think. I'm trying to let things that are meant to be relaxing diversions actually be that without putting all that pressure on myself and undoing any possible relaxation. 

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy! 

"Without Children" Book Review

I went to my local indie bookshop on Small Business Saturday, and as I checked out, the bookseller handed me an advance copy of Without Children: The Long History of Not being a Mother by Peggy O'Donnell Heffington (So sorry to report, it is not to be published until April 2023, but you can always preorder! Authors love preorders!).

"This advance copy came in and I immediately thought of you!" she said as she slipped it in my bag. How cool is that? 

I looked at the table of contents when I got home, and it made me even happier: 

Introduction: We're not having children
Chapter 1: because we've always made choices
Chapter 2: because we'll be on our own
Chapter 3: because we can't have it all
Chapter 4: because of the planet
Chapter 5: because we can't
Chapter 6: because we want other lives
Conclusion: And, if you'll forgive me for asking, why should we? 

I was FASCINATED. This is not a memoir, although parts are the author's experiences. She is a history professor, and it is a history of how women have, throughout CENTURIES, not had children for various reasons, and how society has looked at it over time. It was interesting to have a historical lens for the topic. 

Here are some of my favorite nuggets to give you a taste.

From the Author's Note: 

"We have a term for women with children, which is mother. What we don't have is a great term for a woman without children other than "a woman without children"; we can name her only with a description of what she does not have, or what she is not (i.e., a non-mother)." 

Another note that the author agrees with but comes from the sociologist Adele E. Clarke: "we need legitimating vocabularies for not having biological children -- both 'childless' and 'childfree' are already inflected/infected. We need an elaborated vocabulary for making kin and caring beyond the 'pro- and anti- and non-natalist,' and that does not use the binary-implying 'choice.'"

Heffington ends the Author's Note with this: "The fact that we lack good terms for a life lived without children--that it is on us to explain and define and invent words for this sort of life, a life that has never been uncommon and is becoming increasingly common -- is part of why I wrote this book in the first place." 

AMEN, lady. Call me hooked. 

From the Introduction: 

"In my own life, I have felt a creeping distance between myself and mothers my age...Women I got graduate degrees with, drank too much whiskey in bars with, ran marathons with, have been transformed, literally overnight, into Adults, with Real Responsibilities and Meaning in Their Lives. Meanwhile, I have remained a child, failing to feed myself properly on a regular basis, killing houseplants, and indulging in wild, hedonistic pleasures like going for a run every morning and having a clean living room." 

I literally snorted my coffee on that. But, the point is that there's been a divide that's been perpetuated by society, in particular patriarchal society. Heffington explores how women are put into a category of population-creators, that "mom" becomes the most important role because it creates more humans and so more hope (but also more voters, more patriots, more people like you, etc) and women who don't have children are somehow less, deviant, broken, because they aren't contributing to society in this way. Ew, society. So much elaboration on the social, political, and historical contexts of these beliefs. 

She brings up sexism too -- "It is, of course, equally possible for a man to live his whole life and produce no children, and if fewer women are having children, presumably fewer men are fathering them. But a man who produces no children is not usually identified with that lack." Hmmmmm, so true. Why is not having children always put on women? (hint: patriarchy) 

As I read on, I felt like I was reading a kindred spirit. 

For instance, this piece that explores how we look at the word "mother":  Today, we benefit from the wisdom of Black, queer, and Indigenous feminist thinkers who have taught us that "mother" is best used as a verb, not a noun: mother is something that you do, not something that you are." 

AMEN! 

And, "As [social scientist Stanlie M.] James frames it, mothering need not have anything to do with a uterus producing a child, or even with whether the person doing the mothering has a uterus or identifies as a woman. bell hooks called this "revolutionary parenting," stripping gendered associations from her term altogether."

Heffington also talks about how not having children is increasingly common: "Overall, nearly half of millennial women, the eldest of whom are in our early forties, have no children, and an increasing number of us don't ever plan to." HALF! No wonder the patriarchy is freaking out! 

The author then introduces the WHYs of this statistic -- the cost of childcare and the shrinking of the middle class, the impact of a rougher economy on prioritizing careers over family building for survival, the impact of the pandemic on people's plans to have more children or children at all because of uncertainty (economic and otherwise), and fears for the future planet that future children would inhabit. 

Heffington pulls apart the stickiness of the word "choice." "The word "choice" has since become a rallying cry of progressive women's movements, a synonym for abortion access expertly pitched to a society with a soft spot for claims to individual freedoms. ... The choice to have an abortion. The choice between career and family. The choice to not have children. Choice was concrete, a specific ask that didn't require making any larger, vaguer, harder changes to the world women made choice in -- or to the world they would have to raise their children in. ... Today, this apparent freedom to choose makes any individual's motherhood or non-motherhood appear entirely deliberate."

This was interesting to me, because I sometimes struggle with the word "choice" myself. I made choices along the way of our journey to have children that ended without them, but each of those choices was due to circumstances beyond my control. Non-choices. There were options, so many options -- but when they didn't work or the existential cost became too great, it didn't much feel like "choice."  Not to mention that the ability to choose fertility treatments or many adoption paths is so dependent on financial means. It's not a choice for so many. 

The problem with options is examined, too -- "Some of us tried fertility drugs or IUI or IVF, decided to stop when it got too expensive or physically grueling, and exist in a gray zone between choosing not to have children and not being able to."

AND THIS IS JUST THE FIRST HALF OF THE INTRODUCTION. 

The book is incredible. It examines not just why people aren't having children, but the problems in society and the world we live in that contribute to these "choices." She examines disparities, and the way COVID exposed how American culture loves to say how important family is, but does so very little to actually support and provide networks for actual families, especially in times of crisis. That the whole system is broken, and perhaps we need to look at parenting as a less individualistic activity. 

I could go on, and on, and on. What I love is that there isn't the pitted "us vs them" mentality -- there is an examination of where that came from and why it is counterproductive. How the binary hurts everyone. I loved this book because of the voice, the lens, the validation of different reasons people do not have children, and the insistence on deconstructing a norm that hasn't truly been a norm. A call to do better as a society and value everyone for contributing to the present and the future, whether they have children or not. 

I feel so lucky to have a (heavily underlined) copy of this book way early. I will admit that I was initially nervous about the history aspect of it, that it would be dry or fusty, but I cannot recommend it enough. Heffington writes with a clarity and sense of humor and compassion that makes this an informative and entertaining read. 

My 2022 Reading Year

Part of our New Years goal and wrap up is taking a look back at all the books I've read in the year and categorizing them. While I'm reading, I keep titles in a Google Keep list with the dates I complete them. Then, at the end of the year, I put it all into my journal. 

This wasn't a banner year for reading # of books, compared to past years. I read 77 books, which is low by at least 23 titles. And, when I went through them all, I wasn't as excited about them. I did have some longer books that were out of character for me and I had decided I didn't care if I read fewer books because of the choices I made, but sometimes those were also somewhat less enjoyable. 

Here are my numbers (categories have some overlap so they won't add up to 77): 

Total books: 77

Months with most books read: January and December, each with 9

Months with least books read: March and May, each with 4

Poetry: 1

Graphic Novel: 1

Realistic Fiction: 6

Historical Fiction: 7

Books Bryce Bought Me: 10

Nonfiction (essays and informational): 11

Young Adult: 13

Fantasy/Sci-Fi: 17

Twisty/Mystery: 23

Books by Diverse Authors/Themes of Diversity/Diverse Characters: 30

I had a couple stinkers in there. I almost abandoned Where the Bird Sings Best by Alejandro Jodorowsky (at one point I thought I was going to make a tally for how many times the word "pubis" was used) but then hit that point where if I abandoned it all the time I'd spent reading it would have been wasted. I kept hoping for it to get better. It didn't. Daisy Darker by Alice Feeney annoyed the heck out of me. I found it derivative and lazy, and felt that the author peppered the text with little sayings that were supposed to be "very deep thoughts" but it was like being interrupted by a million bumper stickers while reading. 

In terms of best books, there were actually quite a few, and it's really hard to put them in order. I wanted to keep going, but these were the ones that grabbed me first.

1) The Book of Delights by Ross Gay which I've already reviewed. It was, to be cheesy, simply delightful. (Essays) 

2) Without Children: The Long History of Not Being a Mother by Peggy O'Donnell Heffington. A post is forthcoming dedicated to this amazing book that will be out in April 2023. I got an advance copy from my favorite small indie bookstore, and WOW. So much good stuff there. Next post is all about it! 

3) The Aosawa Murders by Riku Onda. A really cool concept breaking down a horrific murder mystery through interviews. Well written and thinky. 

4) The Last Cuentista by Donna Barba Higuera. This is a Newbury Award Winner for YA fiction and is a really inventive speculative fiction book that also weaves in Mexican folklore. It's also a really satisfying compact hardcover format (just feels good in your hands). It feels a little Don't Look Up plus The Giver and has just really great storytelling in it.

5) They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera. Gorgeous. Interesting concept. I wept openly when I finished it even though DYING IS IN THE TITLE. It's not a spoiler! But it was just gorgeously emotional. 

6) The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey. Oh wow, so inventive and a mix of twisty + sci-fi. To describe it is to ruin some of the wonder. There is a pregnancy pretty prominently featured but it didn't bother me in this context. A thinker. 

7) Everything Is OK by Debbie Tung. A beautiful graphic novel memoir (or memoir told in comics?) that is part inspirational, part a delving into the experience of living with severe depression and anxiety. 

8) Little Weirds by Jenny Slate. Yup, they were little weird essays, but man, I related. They were funny and heartwarming and strange. I adore Jenny Slate and I adored her more after reading this book. 

9) The Hacienda by Isabel Canas. Straight up one of the creepiest books I read this year, and full of Mexican history. It felt a little like a combo of The Thornbirds, Jane Eyre, and The Haunting of Hill House. So good. 

10) The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix. I avoided this one forever because it was "popular" and I saw it everywhere. Oh man, was it fun. It was unexpected and quirky, sometimes creepy, and altogether a delight. 

For this next year, I want to read books I want to read, and I'm going to abandon ones that don't feel right to me so I can read the ones that are enjoyable. I'm going to aim to read one Bryce Pick a month, minimum. He got me some really good ones for Christmas and I have a bit of a back catalog going of unreads from him. Other than that, I want to continue diversifying my reading lists. 

What were your favorites of 2022?

Want to read some #Microblog Mondays, perhaps ones that qualify as Micro? Go here and enjoy!