On vaccinations….

On vaccinations….

I wasn’t going to wade into the vaccination debate, but I’m getting sick of the ongoing war on social media between pro-vacc and anti-vacc mums, and I have to ask…..

When did we get so mean?

I just want to put every single one of you who post these ‘articles’ (both for and against) into a big Mummy time-out. Why do you think it’s ok to call people ‘ignorant’ or ‘stupid’ because of their choices?

My children were having a debate in the back of the car the other day about evolution vs creation (entirely led by them, and yes, I possibly do have the strangest children in the world.) There were two definite camps taking place in the backseat, with each party vigorously defending their position and belief, and not once did anyone call anyone else names. (And this is no mean feat considering they are aged 4, 5 and 6, so at the age when throwing a quick ‘poo-head’ or ‘dumb-bum’ is a sure-fire way to escalate an argument…or end it by rendering the opposition incoherent with tears at the unjustness of the slander) They are CHILDREN and they are already behaving better than many of the mums I’ve seen on social media ‘debating’ vaccinations. We ended their discussion by following up with a talk about how people have many different opinions, and even if we don’t agree with their belief we must respect their right to have that belief. They get this – it’s not a difficult concept for them. Why are so many adults struggling with that same idea?

For the record, I am pro-vaccination. My children have received all their vaccination on the immunisation schedule on time and in full. In the interest of full disclosure I should mention that my dog is late for her annual vaccinations, but I’ll probably have that remedied by the time I publish this blog.

My problem isn’t whether or not you should vaccinate your children. Read that again. My problem isn’t whether or not YOU should vaccinate YOUR children. They are YOUR children. We’ve made our choice for our family, based on what WE believe to be the best decision for us. What you decide for your family is exactly that…your choice.

My problem is that there are so many grown women out there reduced to name calling and downright meanness over what boils down to a personal choice. And that’s not ok. I get that you are passionately pro-vaccination, or passionately anti-vaccination, but can we just grow up a little bit please? Make your choice, be happy in your decision and get on with your lives. If someone has chosen a different path than you, don’t see it as a threat to your belief or an insult to your choice, just be glad that we live in a world where we have the luxury to choose.

on miscarriage…

It’s taken me a long time to sit down and write this blog. Every time I think “today I’ll write that post”, suddenly washing windows seems like the most desirable activity possible, and cleaning the ovens is irresistible.

But, today I’m making myself do it.

We lost our first baby. It was a horrendous, heartwrenching time and I still think about it (some 7 years later) with a sense of sadness. I was revelling in pregnancy – celebrating every little flutter and even getting excited about morning sickness. My husband had moved down to Blenheim for work and I was finishing up in Auckland and heading down to join him, so he’d get nightly updates of every tiny pregnancy-related thought. Then one morning I woke up and it was over. I had had no signs that anything was amiss…I just woke up one morning and I was bleeding, heavily.

I called the midwife I had diligently lined up in Blenheim, and she was pretty ruthless about it – ‘one of those things…happens in one in four pregnancies….usually a sign that there was something wrong…” Stab. I made an appointment with my GP who was amazing through the whole ordeal and sent me along for a scan. I have to sing the praises of my GP here – he let me bawl my eyes out in his office, assured me that I had done nothing wrong, called me after hours to make sure I was ok because he knew I was home alone, and just went out of his way in a way that I still remember as a shining spot in a dark time.

The radiologist who did my scan was brutal. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I hope that she has since left the profession – she was heartless. I had a friend come with me for the scan, and even she was taken aback by how thoughtless the radiologist was. She scanned me, then switched the machine off and told me there was no heartbeat. I cried, and she said “it’s normal to be emotional because you’ve still got pregnancy hormones, even though you’re not pregnant anymore”. Stab.

I went online. BIG MISTAKE! I came across story after story of women who were told that they had miscarried, only to find out months later that their baby was growing happily. I decided I was going to be one of those women and refused a D&C, which was a really silly decision because the physical side of my miscarriage was messy, painful, and drawn out. It went on for 8 weeks, and I had scans weekly during that time. 2 weeks after my miscarriage started, I was walking out of the radiology office when the receptionist called me back in and handed me a bill for $180. Apparently, as I was no longer pregnant I had to pay full price for my ‘elective’ scans. Stab.

It was tough ordeal to get over physically, but emotionally I was devastated. We were the first couple in our circle of friends to get pregnant, and no one really knew how to deal with the loss – it just was never really acknowledged. Our families had been so excited about the new grandchild, and I felt so guilty letting them down.

I think though, the worst was the way I felt towards myself. I felt like the language of miscarriage was either directed at blaming me (“I lost the baby”), or overly medical (referring to my baby as ‘retained products of conception’). I truly felt that I had done something wrong and harmed my baby, and that I would never be able to carry a child to term. The miscarriage completely shook my belief in myself, and my confidence that I would become a mother.

For my husband, the grief was more about seeing his wife so broken – the baby was more of an ‘idea’ in his head, whereas I had grown her and felt her little bubbly wriggles. All he could see was that I was turning further and further inside myself and he couldn’t help.

The oldest adages prove true though – I just needed time, and eventually we did have babies…3 of them, and they are perfect. Every year though, when we put up a Christmas tree, all 4 of our babies have their own special decoration.

On feminism

On feminism….

I’ve had this rant ruminating in my little head for a while now about feminism, and recently I’ve been inundated with examples of exactly WHY I need to write it.

So, first things first…Yes, absolutely, 100% I am a feminist. I fail to see why any sane woman wouldn’t be. I’m not in the ranks of Germaine Greer or Naomi Wolf, but the older I get, the more passionate I feel about the cause. My children are being raised by a stay-at-home mum and a working dad, not as an example of staid traditional principals, but because feminism has worked to give women the choice of working outside the home or within the home without judgement

I’m raising my children to be feminists – and yes, this definitely does include my 2 sons. I think it’s more important than ever to instil in children the belief that there needs to be equality between the sexes. I don’t want my sons to grow up and think that it is okay to dissemble a woman into a scrap heap of body parts, there for their aesthetic pleasure, fine in doing so because that’s ‘just what guys do’, or because they are ‘with the bros’. I don’t want my children to grow up mindlessly listening to some of the misogynistic music on the radio without at least considering the meaning of the lyrics.

My daughter is told every day that she is beautiful….and also that she is clever and brave and kind and strong. My sons have been raised playing with dolls, wearing tutus and being praised for being kind and gentle boys alongside their games of wrestling, truck racing and super hero role plays.

We’ve campaigned for the right to vote, we’ve burnt the bras and fought to have equal pay (still a work in progress to be fair, but moving slowly in the right direction), we’ve demanded acknowledgement and understanding and respect. I feel we’ve swung so far the other way now – a women who declares herself a feminist has the image of a hairy-armpitted, butch angry woman to contend with, and young women in our society seem to feel that their power lies in being as overtly sexual as their male counterparts (just watch the various “shore” reality shows for examples of them). I argue that a strong, powerful women in our society is one who can calmly and firmly state her beliefs and her opinions and who clearly understands her boundaries and has an expectation of how she should be treated. I’m raising my daughter to be this woman, and my sons to be the men who respect her for it.

xx

  (images via pinterest)