Strong Families Blog

Diane Tran and the school to prison pipeline

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Tue, 29 May 2012 21:58:00 +0000

By Mai Doan

By now, many of you have heard about Diane Tran, the young person in Texas who was given a $100 fine and a night in jail for missing school. Diane, going to school while working two jobs to support her younger siblings, missed school time due to emotional and physical exhaustion. Her case has brought to light a dysfunctional tangle of economic, educational, and legal systems, while igniting push back from all over the country.

Though Diane’s case is extreme, she is just one of many working-class youth of color impacted by a deteriorating educational system and the prison industrial complex who benefits from its failing. Why are our schools so intimately connected with the criminal legal system? At a time when our education systems are being dismantled and privatized, we need to be more aware than ever of the school to prison pipeline.

With Diane’s case, I am reminded of the Community Rights Campaign and their victory earlier this year, which amended a daytime curfew law which had overwhelmingly put black and brown students in the hands of the Los Angeles Police Department for being late for class. The Community Rights Campaign continues to challenge the school to prison pipeline, demanding that student behavior, including tardiness and truancy, are decriminalized, and dealt with by school officials, not law enforcement. They also call for a restriction of use of force by police on campus, a civilian review board, and an increase in counselors.

Diane's case was not an exception. Hopefully her case, along with the ongoing work of Community Rights Campaign and their allies, highlights the need for policy change. Be sure to sign the petition to revoke the fine and sentencing of honors student Diane Tran!

Mai Doan is the SAFIRE Organizer at Forward Together.

Young moms turn to digital media for parenting advice

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Fri, 25 May 2012 15:35:00 +0000

At Strong Families we partner with many organizations who are doing great work with youth and sexual health like the Illinois Caucus for Adolescent Health (ICAH). In partnership with youth, ICAH advocates sound policies and practices that promote a positive approach to adolescent sexual health and parenting. ICAH also proactively uses digital media to reach out to youth with vital information about sex and sexuality.

At ICAH they know that new and online media is a great way engage youth who spend a significant amount of time on the internet and watching TV. Developing strategies around what youth like helps to make learning about pregnancy, sexual health and birth control better for everyone.

Having just celebrated Mama's Day some of the young moms in the ICAH circle were thinking back on what kind of information they found using digital media when they first learned they were pregnant. We're so lucky that they shared those experiences with us. Check it out!

"I have looked for daycare providers and ratings and feedback and I could only find “Nanny Finder”. With Nanny finder I thought it was supposed to rate them and have comments but it wasn’t like that at all. I don’t use Twitter and I don’t discuss issues pertaining to my children on Facebook."

Ashley, 20

"I have looked for information about pregnancy health but nothing specific about parenting. There was a lot about pregnancy. I also looked for birth control options, there were resources for family planning like birth control and its ratings and comments from users. Also I found places that provide abortion services and birth control. I mostly speak to people directly about their family planning experiences. I don’t really use digital media for things dealing with my child because I am in a teen parenting program that I can get resources from directly. I like hearing about first hand knowledge. Not what studies have shown."

Taylor, 19

"When I first got pregnant I used the computer to find information about gestational development, and c-sections. I was told that my son would be born with a brain anomaly and I used the internet to find out as much as I could to prepare myself for my son’s arrival. During prenatal classes at the hospital I found it helpful to watch videos about childbirth and how to care for a newborn."

Alisha, 22

"I have used Facebook to connect with other moms about the challenges of being a parent. I found it very helpful and the other mom’s helped me realize I need to take it day by day. I watch 16 and Pregnant, A Baby Story, and Bringing home baby. 16 and Pregnant helped me to see that as a teen, I may be stuck in the middle of being a minor and having a minor but your family is a big support system. A baby story prepared me for the challenges of child birth and I felt prepared when he was born. Bringing home baby helped me learn how to prepare his room and gather the supplies a newborn would need. When I first found out I was pregnant, I used youtube to look for the procedures for abortion. But I didn’t find anything and I was already 5 months pregnant at the time so I decided to carry my child to term and raise him."

Edneshia, 17

"I watched Lifetime movies when I was first pregnant and it helped me see that if there are movies about teens getting pregnant then I must not be the only one and I didn’t feel so alone. I don’t use the internet much to connect with other moms, or find out information. I belong to a teen parenting program that helped me learn about my pregnancy and it also helped me with raising my children. I feel there is a lot of negative stuff on TV and the internet about teen parents. Everything I have seen or heard is about how being a teen parent is so bad. But what if you are already a pregnant or a teen parent, then what am I suppose to do. Why talk about how negative it is now. We are already pregnant so what’s next. They need to show me how to get things back on track or show more success stories. Yes I know it makes thing harder as a teen but its not the end of the world. I don’t like the shows about teen parents because it just shows all the negative stuff and the drama and there are some positive things that teen parents do but they never show that on TV or on the news or internet."

Wendy, 23

One step closer to ending shackling pregnant women in CA

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Tue, 22 May 2012 21:00:00 +0000

By Alicia Walters

Yesterday, the California State Assembly unanimously approved AB 2530 authored by Assembly member Toni Atkins. A straight-forward bill that would prohibit the most dangerous forms of shackling of pregnant incarcerated women, AB 2530 has garnered support from Republicans and Democrats alike.

Pregnant women represent under one-tenth of the female population in correctional facilities - a population that has grown by 153% in recent years. Thanks to a 2005 law, the use of shackles during labor, delivery, and recovery are prohibited in California, however, there are no standards for when and how to safely restrain pregnant inmates throughout their pregnancies.

If you’re reading this, by now, you may have heard that 36 states in this nation, including California, shackle pregnant women in prisons and jails. In our state, pregnant women are frequently shackled by the ankles, wrists, belly, behind the back, and even to other people, causing many to fall. Even though the vast majority of women have no history of violence and pose no threat of escape, they are being restrained without regard to their health and safety.

You probably also know that organizations like ACOG, ACLU, Legal Services for Prisoners with Children, and the Center for Young Women’s Development have been trying to stop this practice for several years. Our legislators get it - they consistently vote for the bill. The public gets it - bring it up at your next family or social gathering and people will look at you in disbelief at the thought of pregnant women in chains.

So, why in California have advocates been successful in convincing everyone but Governors Brown and Schwarzenegger that our laws should surpass those of Arizona and Idaho? One would hope something more than politics.

That is what we’re hoping and confident in this year. That all things are on our side: more women are sharing harrowing stories of being chained to their hospital beds unable to use the restroom; doctors are raising their voices in frustration at not being able to treat pregnant inmates with potentially fatal complications; even prison guards think the bill makes sense. Throw in a little third time’s a charm and the higher consciousness associated with 2012 and this could be the year.

Maybe we are in year three of this crucial bill because change takes time, building trust and relationships with law enforcement so that they become partners instead of adversaries does not happen overnight. Whatever the reason, it is clear that the time has come for women’s health to trump politics. In this War on Women, let California be a conscientious objector.

AB 2530 will now move on to the Senate. We will keep you posted on ways to get involved.

Alicia Walters is a consultant with the ACLU of Northern California through Creative. Justice. Works.

Reflections on Mamas Day 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Tue, 22 May 2012 18:00:00 +0000

By: Nina Jacinto

When I started writing my blog post about the anxieties and reservations I had about ever raising a child, I thought for sure it would be inappropriate to share for a Mama's Day blog carnival. After all, I wasn't touting the inevitability of motherhood, I was questioning it and mentally running for the hills.

But after reading the amazing, inspiring, and honest posts that were written for Mama's Day 2012, I have some new thoughts about what it takes, and what it means, to be a mama.

Here's what these posts reaffirmed for me:

1. Motherhood can be a terrifying experience—filled with so many unknowns and variables that we can't necessarily anticipate. It also seems to be incredibly rewarding. In the words of Jaime Jenett, who wrote a truly beautiful response to my post, "sometimes loving so much it hurts can break us so wide open that we find delicious pieces of ourselves we never knew were there."

2. Motherhood should always be a choice—we should be allowed to parent on our own terms, and raise our children with humanity, and dignity. But despite the restrictions that are placed on our ability to care for our families, mamas still have an incredible capacity to love.

3. Motherhood can come with stigma, shame, and struggle—mamas of all kinds need our support. They need support from our communities, our families, and our policies. Embedded in our language and our laws and our advertisements are negative attitudes about mamas on the margins. But there are a lot of people out there who are demanding change.

4. Motherhood is emotional. At the end of the day, this is what has stayed with me after Mama's Day, and will linger for months. So many of you poured out stories of love and loss and acceptance and anger and fear. These stories hold power because they are our personal truths—they lift up our experiences and tell the world that we will not be ignored or silenced. Together, they form a tapestry of motherhood, creating an image of love, of strength, of Strong Families.

I'm still wary about ever being a mom. I'm still unsure of whether I'll be able to take on mamahood, or if I even want to in the first place. And I'm still worried my kid may not like me. But I've learned to keep my wariness in perspective—to be grateful for having the opportunity to parent on my own terms, in my own time. I've learned that even if life doesn't go the way we planned, it can still be incredibly fulfilling. And I'm even more in awe, even more proud of the women in my life and in this world. They are doing the work every day, moving forward for the generations who came before them, and for the generations to come.

All families matter

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Mon, 21 May 2012 20:27:00 +0000

By Eveline Shen

We launched our line of customizable Mama’s Day e-cards with hope: hope that our friends would like them and share them on each other’s Facebook walls. Hope that the blog entries we posted would be moving and eye-opening about aspects of motherhood that are usually overlooked. And hope that folks would connect with our basic message: All families matter.

Our hopes were realized. Tens of thousands of people came to our website, and thousands made cards and shared them. The e-cards received amazing coverage in the media, and MoveOn shared our cards in their Mother’s Day message. The cards traveled far beyond our own audience and took on a life of their own. Messages of appreciation poured into our offices from around the country—many people said they were moved to tears when they saw themselves reflected in our cards.

Simultaneously, our blog exploded with content. We could barely keep up. We received beautiful, intimate pieces about the decision to parent (or not), raising boys of color, queerness, domestic violence, and disability, as well as many other mama-related stories of love and struggle. And we were thrilled by how many of you liked, shared, and loved these stories.

We are inspired and humbled by the relief and joy expressed in response to our cards and blogs. We are excited by how many of you celebrated Mama’s Day with your communities. In this exchange, something deeper was revealed: images and stories of our families are not merely political, they are about imagining a world where the mamas in our lives are seen, heard, and valued. Our work at Strong Families is all about making that imagined world a reality.

We are excited about creating a line of cards for next year, and are already hearing from artists who want to be a part of Mama’s Day 2013. But before that, there is an election season ahead. This is a season where candidates will likely shift between wooing our families as voters and donors, and scapegoating us for destroying marriage and the economy. Immigrant families, queer families, single parent families, and low-income folks will all come under attack.

We won’t just be standing by watching these attacks. Strong Families will prepare all of our families to act and respond with Vote for Us: The Strong Families Guide to Civic Engagement. The guide will bring our vision and values to life so that the candidates we elect and the ballot initiatives we enact will improve life for all of our families. Working with members and partners, we will get hundreds of thousands of these voter guides to the families that need them.

During this election season, we can to raise the voices of our families to speak for ourselves, challenge candidates to support our communities, and inspire everyday people to get active with us in this effort.
Mama’s Day showed us how many of you are ready to act. We are so excited to move ahead with you.

SAFIRE talks mamas

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Fri, 18 May 2012 21:00:00 +0000

By Mai Doan

Think about someone who is a mother in your life. It can be your mother or caretaker, your sister, your grandmother, your cousin, yourself. What do they look like? What are some things they are going through? Are they happy? What makes them strong? What’s hard for them?
It is not very often that we are given intentional time and space to think about the mothers in our lives to think about how they are doing, what they need. During our Mama’s Day workshop, SAFIRE young women had time to reflect on these questions. After sitting with these questions, I asked SAFIRE young women to think about this person, what they appreciate about them, what’s hard about their relationship with this person, and what this person needed in order to make their family stronger:

“I appreciate my mom because she spends a lot of time taking care of my brother and me. Our relationship is hard because we don’t usually agree with each other and we often argue. My family would be stronger if my mom had a more relaxing life, since she spends most of the day working and taking care of the family.”

“I appreciate my mom because she’s my mom and she always has good intentions. Our relationship is hard because she is always busy or tired. My family would be stronger if my mom had days where we weren’t busy or tired so we could do things together.”

“I appreciate my cousin because she didn’t get a lot of support since she went off to China and met up with her husband who she'd never met in person, but she did what SHE wanted, not what others told her. She stood up for herself. My relationship with my cousin is hard because I don’t see her a lot. I don’t know what exactly she’s going through and don’t know if she needs my support or not.”

“My relationship with my cousin is hard because we don’t have much communication with each other and she has to face being a teen mom.”

Mamas in our communities work hard. They do their best to support our families financially and provide the love and care we need to survive. And it’s difficult for all mamas in our communities to get what they need - support, love, time, rest, respect, acknowledgement, services, and adequate pay for their labor.

Visioning is a powerful tool for us to start building the world we want to see. SAFIRE spent some time getting creative and making collages of a world where all mamas had what they needed:

So now, for this Mama’s Day, we ask you to envision: What would our families and communities be like if these mamas had everything that they needed? What would our families and communities look, feel, smell, taste, and sound like if these mamas had everything they needed?

Mai Doan is the SAFIRE Youth Organizer at Forward Together.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

Strong Woman, Strong Girl

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Fri, 18 May 2012 16:00:00 +0000

by Natasha Vivianna

Between my sixth and seventh birthdays, my parents separated and divorced, I moved into a new house, I switched schools, and I said goodbye to my friends. My family of five divided into two even smaller families. While I understand the reasons today, my parents’ divorce was tough for me at the time. Many times I wondered if relationships were meant to last or if people were just meant to get sick of each other. Too often, I told myself that if two people who once loved each other can end up hating each other, then love cannot be real.

My life as a teen was wonderful; I was an honor roll student, dance team captain, volleyball player, and member of numerous extracurricular activities. As an active teen, I had many games for my parents to attend and many activities for them to support…but they rarely did. Their dislike for each other was so strong that it was hard to have them to be in the same room and not feel awkward. They missed out on a lot of the wonderful things I did. I wish they saw how great I was because at the age of seventeen, I gave birth to my daughter and all those wonderful things I'd been doing came to an end. I no longer held the title of “example student”; I became the “example problem.”

On that day I gave birth, I discovered love was real again. My heart genuinely felt true and genuine love for someone who would soon call me mama. I knew that all the excuses I had been giving myself for being weak, breaking down, and giving up were useless now. This was an opportunity to find the strength in myself that I knew I carried.

When my daughter was a baby, she was more than just my child. She was my therapist. As I looked into her eyes, I saw hope and I saw a future that I never imagined before. I always knew that I would do something great with my life, but now I had someone else watching me every step of the way. Every night in bed, I would ask myself, “How do I want to be remembered?” or “What will my daughter tell her grandchildren about me?” While it seems stressful to think about, I saw it as an opportunity to change our lives and create a story based on strength and love.

Within my daughter’s first year of life, I graduated from high school, left an abusive relationship, moved out into the world on my own, enrolled in college, and started working to support my two-person family. Many times, I had valid reasons to break down and cry, but each time I saw my challenges as opportunities to build my strength—and I did get stronger. Every time I felt like the world was against me and my chances were low, I thought about the future and how that challenging moment would become a great memory of strength.

Now that my daughter is in kindergarten, I have regular meetings with her teacher to follow up on her progress. At my first meeting, her teacher made a comment that really touched me, “Nelly is a strong girl.” It brought tears to my eyes and I knew at that very moment that everything I was doing, I was doing right. All of the qualities I was trying to build into my child were sticking: her ability to understand and relate to other children, her love and care for others, her desire to learn and teach others, and her courage. With strength in place, there is very little my daughter won’t accomplish. And for this, I am thankful for all the challenges I have experienced, as they have created a joyous life today.

After giving birth to a daughter at the age of seventeen, Natasha dedicated her life to becoming an amazing parent, finding happiness, overcoming society's stereotypes, and conquering her own definition of success. Through blogging, mentorship programs, public speaking, and many other platforms, Natasha aims to use her story to prevent teen pregnancy, undo the negative image of teen moms, and empower and motivate teen parents to beat the odds.

This post is part of our series on supporting young moms, as a follow-up to our Mama's Day Our Way blog series.

What makes my family strong?

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Thu, 17 May 2012 21:00:00 +0000

by Tara Pringle Jefferson

Me. Finally recognizing my value and what I bring to my family helps make us, as a unit, so incredibly strong.

Let me explain.

When I was just starting out as a mother, I didn't quite understand the role. I was terrified because everything just seemed so hard and as a young mother in particular, it seems like people were waiting for me to fail.

Raising a human is a daunting task for sure, but I let that fear propel me for a number of years. Every time my kids cried I was right there before the tear hit their cheek. They needed food? I'm heading to the store. They fell down? I've got the Band-Aids right here. I put myself second for so long. I could find myself worn out from the daily grind of motherhood but I refused to stop and take inventory of my needs, of how far down the list I had allowed myself to fall.

I realized then that my family was slipping, even though I thought I was giving them everything I had. I was trying to keep too many balls in the air and they kept dropping. So I made some changes. I began getting up before my kids so I could start the day with a fresh mind. I would put them to bed a half-hour early during particularly crazy weeks. I began taking one-on-one dates with my kids, to ensure that I could see them as individuals. It wasn't until I began to prioritize and put my needs a little higher on the list that I would have characterized my family as "strong."

Tara Jefferson is a hardworking mom of two and blogger at TheYoungMommyLife.com. She's also the author of Make It Happen, a career guide for young mothers.

This post is part of our series on supporting young moms, as a follow up to our Mama's Day Our Way blog series

Strong Familiy = Strong Support System

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Wed, 16 May 2012 23:00:00 +0000

by Lisette Orellana

A strong family is only as good as its support system. Through my journey as a single mother I have learned a lot about my fears, my weaknesses, and my strengths. I used to worry a lot about how people saw my children. It wasn’t about me, the former teen mother, the girl who goes out with her kids and still looks like the older sister; it was about the children of this young, single mother. I worried if people at school felt bad for them because there was no father on their emergency contacts card. I worried if they were seen differently by their friends because grandma picked them up when I couldn’t make it and dad never came to any of their games or school activities. I wondered if the doctor thought I wasn’t smart enough to understand when they talked to me during our visits. I worried a bit too much.

As my children have gotten older, many of those fears and doubts have begun to subside. Looking back now, I realize that I have met so many people who have been supportive of me and my decisions. People who have taken the time to educate me, to teach me, to help me be a better parent and pass along lessons to my children of what a healthy, strong family looks like. Today, I’m no longer scared, and I no longer feel powerless. I have the confidence to approach others and ask for help. I have the confidence to take my kids to the park and not worry about what other parents think. I have the satisfaction of coming home every afternoon and knowing that my little family is as strong as ever.

I am grateful for those who take the time to hold our hands and guide us in the world. I am glad that there are support systems for families who face many of the doubts that I faced. Who acknowledge that they don’t meet the unrealistic standards set by society but are willing to do anything to ensure their families hold the one thing society doesn’t place enough emphasis on: the unbreakable bond of communication, respect, and love. If you were to ask me today who helped me build my strong little family I would in a heartbeat answer it’s people like you. Those who believe that while we took a detour, we are still human beings with the same desire as everyone else: to make our children (and ourselves!) happy.

The support of organizations that continuously work to improve the lives of families like mine are doing what they envision – helping us and many others. I’m a supporter of volunteers, of policymakers, and of those community leaders who are able to connect with us and who fight for the services that help us find the road to self-sufficiency. I am grateful for their genuine interest in families which with time will yield a better society. I am grateful for having had that help to accept that I am capable of building and maintaining a strong family. I am grateful for finally feeling like a proud mother, and grateful to have such a strong village helping me in raising my children.

Lisette is a proud mother of two, and advocate for young mothers, for families of children with disabilities, and abused women. Through life's experiences she has learned to appreciate those who have helped her, and has learned to share her stories to help others.

This post is part of our series on supporting young moms, as a follow up to our Mama's Day Our Way blog series

My Strong Family

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Wed, 16 May 2012 21:00:00 +0000

by Jessica Makeeff

Love, hard work, and laughter are my ingredients for my strong family.

One of my favorite quotes is “Do all things with love.” Don’t act out of hate, don’t speak out of anger, and never treat someone in a way you would not want to be treated. My daughter and I follow those rules daily and go out of our way to spread out unconditional love with others too. It's important to me that my daughter know the power of love and know that I love her unconditionally and that she won’t afraid to express her unconditional love for others either.

Second, with hard work anything is possible, including having a happy, healthy, loving family. With a little dedication, commitment, and unconditional love my family has blossomed. Lastly, and most importantly laugh it off. My daughter and I find ourselves laughing at each other through out the day; telling jokes, watching funny dog videos on YouTube, or having tickle fights. Laughter is an important part of our lives and keeps our family lighthearted, easy going, and fun!

Jessica is 20 years old, and her beautiful daughter Lillian will be three in June. She lives in Mandan, North Dakota. She currently works as a cosmetologist while going to college fulltime. She’s pursuing a degree in Psychology, and hopes to become a counselor who works with single mothers and young families. She hopes to inspire and motivate other young parents to pursue an educational degree, and knows that if they put their mind to something and are passionate; they can achieve anything.

This post is part of our series on supporting young moms, as a follow up to our Mama's Day Our Way blog series

Photoblog: You signed, we delivered!

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Wed, 16 May 2012 19:42:00 +0000

By Melanie Tom, Field Organizer

Signed, sealed, delivered.

Yesterday I had the honor of traveling to Sacramento with the AB 2015 (Mitchell) policy team to deliver over twenty pages of signatures (600+ signatures) to nearly twenty five members of the California Assembly and Senate. As we walked into the offices of Assembly Appropriations members, the leaders of the Black, API, Latino and Women caucuses, the Senate Pro Tem and Speaker of the Assembly we were greeted with a singular reaction: a big, big smile.

Turns out that California legislators love our Mama's Day card, too.

Thank you to Strong Families supporters, Mama's Day e-card lovers, migrant rights champions and criminal justice sheros for making our petition a success. We delivered your name with a real, in the flesh print of our Mama's Day card. Your action helped raise visibility on AB 2015 while capturing the hearts and minds of our most important elected's.

Up next for AB 2015: both the Center for Young Women's Development and the California Policy Immigrant Center will be lobbying on our bill over the next week. We've got the momentum, let's keep AB 2015 moving!

Welcome to California's State Capital!

Policy team members Megan Burgoyne, Catherine Porter and Kelly Lewis take a moment to strategize in the sun.

Veronica Stone and Bobbie Sardo from Senator Evan's office show their love for our Mama's Day card.

AB 2015's author, Assemblymember Holly Mitchell, at a press conference held by the Black, Latino, API, LGBT and Women's Caucus around the sobering cuts to the state budget.

A team photo--but we can't stop admiring the Mama's Day cards!

Ah, that's better.

Looked who we bumped into...California Coalition for Reproductive Freedom member and AB 2015 supporter CA NOW!

On the heels of the JP Morgan Chase scandal. Strong Families stands with you!

THANK YOU, Jeanine (Forward Together staff), for creating and organizing all of our lobby day materials!

THANK YOU, Strong Families supporters, for your twenty pages of signatures!

We the Catholic people of the United States say enough is enough

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Wed, 16 May 2012 16:00:00 +0000

by Marissa Valeri

In February, when a Congressional committee had a hearing about the new policy requiring no-copay coverage of contraception in employee health plans Nancy Pelosi pointed out something ironic— “Imagine they're having a panel on women's health, and they don't have any women on the panel—duh!” Like me, the House Minority Leader is a mother and a Catholic, and I think it’s safe to say that we’re both straight shooters. Moms don’t have time to beat around the bush. To me, being a mom means being focused—on work, on my son’s needs, on steering my family forward. It also means that I head straight for the bottom line when it comes to reproductive health policy, which in this case could be summed up with three letters—duh.

The bishops have tried to cloud the contraception coverage issue with a lot of rhetoric, but it’s not hard for me to see that they’ve been trying to speak for my conscience in a way that is anything but Catholic. My faith tradition teaches that each person should be trusted with the ability to make her or his own moral decisions, which is what the policy requiring employers to offer no-cost coverage is designed to support.

You may say that the hierarchy’s opposition to reproductive choice is nothing new, and you would be right. In the 1960s the hierarchy decided to uphold the ban on contraception, and it’s been resolutely refusing to factor in women’s health concerns, and the sexuality of Catholic couples of all kinds, ever since. I’m a Catholic mother who uses contraception: in the bishops’ minds I, and the 98 percent of sexually active Catholic women who have used modern contraception, just don’t count. The bishops have had hurt feelings about healthcare reform since the beginning, but I and other Catholics are sadly so used to having our lived experience discounted that we’re not surprised when the hierarchy pursues hurtful policies in our name.

But things have ramped up in an important way with the contraception debate. My Catholicism is important to me—it’s a vital part of who I am and it is the fuel that keeps the whole enterprise of being a mom and an advocate for reproductive healthcare going. For the past few months, the bishops’ message has been that there’s something suspect in my conviction that each woman can, and should, make the decision to use contraception for herself. And, according to the bishops, I’m somehow less Catholic for it.

Each of these profound differences between me and the Catholic bishops comes down to a “duh!” moment. To that level where those of us engaged in the really important tasks of daily living are confronted with someone who just doesn’t get it. Catholics committed to social justice have come together to tell America, “We the Catholic people of the United States say enough is enough.” When we say that each person has the right to follow what her conscience says—not her employer, not her bishop—we’re not doing it wrong. No-cost contraception coverage for all women is a no-brainer, and something we should all be able to support. This Mother’s Day, my hope is that we do – on behalf of all mothers who deserve to have their consciences and their decisions honored and respected

Marissa Valeri conducts the organization’s outreach to prochoice advocates and activists throughout the US and fosters coordinated and complementary efforts supporting CFC’s mission, including online advocacy.

This post is part of our series on supporting young moms, as a follow up to our Mama's Day Our Way blog series

My Family's Strength

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Tue, 15 May 2012 23:00:00 +0000

by Alexandra Vanegas

To many people, my having a child out of wedlock as a teenager meant I was going to fail. In the eyes of the naysayers, by choosing to give my child life I was doing my daughter, my community, and society a disservice. Because how could I ever amount to anything other than a disappointment?

To many people, I am stupid. I am reckless. I’m a slut. What a stupid mistake I made to become pregnant as a teenager. Wasn’t I smart enough to use protection? Why didn’t I make a better choice? This is what I feel them say when their judgment burns through me. To them, I am just another statistic, just another black girl who got knocked up.

To many people, the assumed 'broken home' that I have created by not being in a relationship with my daughter's father has no apparent benefit to her. In fact, to many people, my being the head of our household will mean failure for her as well. And so the cycle continues.

Too many times I doubted myself and my capacity to be a good mother. Far too often I let these negative thoughts creep into my thoughts, haunting me. Making me question my own strength and resilience. It was often with a shaky hand and self-doubt that I moved forward and persevered as a young single mom.

Too many people talking and passing judgment who were quick to count me out before speaking a single word to me. Too many people who know too little who think they know a lot, think they know that my family is weak.

With one hand lifted high in the sky, I stand firm and light the way for my family to move forward. My family’s strength doesn’t come from my age, it comes from our love and respect and commitment for each other. Could I have given up on my daughter and myself? It would have been easy. Too easy. I’ve learned that true strength comes from rising to the occasion; it comes from facing challenges and sometimes being beat. My family’s strength has come from our ability to get back up after we’ve been beat and come back stronger. Fiercer. I have an obligation to my daughter, my community, and myself and I intend on being held responsible. And so I continue to strive, and better myself so I can in turn be a better woman and mother. I’ve completed college, I’ve gotten a great job, I even have a library named after me in Zimbabwe. But, most importantly I am raising a kind, giving, and friendly child who will go on and help change her community. And so I will continue to light the way for her, for us, as long as I can because she deserves it. We deserve it.

Alexandra is a 20-something mom to a six year old daughter living outside the Boston area. Inspired by the desire to help others, Alexandra launched her new blog Alexandra Elizabeth in late spring 2012 to give a home to her thoughts on motherhood and life in general, and to connect with other mothers and woman.

It was just the two of us: Raising my son as a single mom

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Tue, 15 May 2012 21:00:00 +0000

by Maria Tucker

Today, my 22 year old son Taj completed his academic career as a Harvard undergraduate. Within minutes, he texted me: “Holy shit! I’m done!” and a steady stream of tears ensued.

On the day I gave birth, I would never have guessed Harvard College would be in our future. I was nineteen when I learned I was pregnant. I received welfare, food stamps, and state assisted medical coverage. Although I had a fire in my belly, I knew many odds were stacked against us. With assistance from my family and communities, I would raise my multiracial – black and Latino - son as a single mother.

I can vividly recall the day of his arrival. I was hopeful, overjoyed, scared. Even more, I was committed to being the best damned parent I could be. We sat together for the first time on the hospital bed, I looked into his eyes, then whispered into his ear: “It’s just you and me, bebe. It’s just you and me.”

As my son recalled in his own writing: “For the next eighteen years, colored here and there by spurts of fatherly resurfacing, it was just the two of us: driven by each other’s support and the support of our family and friends. We jumped blindly into new adventures that took us across the length of the country—she, the fearless leader, and I, the hopelessly devoted follower.”

We were strongly bonded at his birth and have been since. Though nearly paralyzed by fear at his birth, I was confident in the parenting philosophy I’d begun developing soon after I knew I was pregnant. Namely, I would not let him cry for long periods of time without my response, I would read to him at bedtime every night, I would never use his bedroom as a place for punishment, I would never use the word “no,” I would encourage critical thinking by allowing choice as early as possible. Finally, I decided, parenting should be fun most of the time. I continue to truly enjoy parenting; even into adulthood, I am continually fascinated by new aspects of his learning and behavior and I am truly grateful for him.

In spite of our bond and my fascination, raising Taj as a single parent has been a daily act of resistance. At his baseball games, we were often the only single parent family in the Midwest town where we lived. Many times, he was one of two black or brown children on his soccer teams. As I prepare to head to Harvard for Taj’s graduation in a couple of weeks, I still cringe when I imagine the Harvard family picnic—all of the parents of his closest friends are partnered.

While in some ways my strong woman of color exterior thrives under the daily resistance grind, there is an inner sister that is deeply pained by the day-to-day. When the statistics come tumbling down and I consider the heinous acts committed by racism and sexism on my dating pool, I am numb. At 42, I am no longer angry; these days, I am sad. At times, I feel lonely. And on some days, tears and I seem to be closer friends than I’d like to admit.

I am often mistaken for the proverbial “strong” woman of color. I don’t deny this wholesale. I have had to be strong to get my son and I to where we are today Indeed, I recently finished my PhD at the University of Michigan and, as I mentioned, he just finished college. Although I may not have always needed a partner to care for me, at times I want it. There are times when I think to myself: “Can I just fall one good time and a fine ass, solid, loving, compassionate partner be there to keep me from crashing down?”

Looking back at my time as a custodial single parent, I recall the moments of longing for loving support. They were fleeting moments but ones I was too afraid to engage for fear that they would detract from my sense of purpose and my notion of what it means to be a successful woman of color.

I realize now that my engagement with this sense of vulnerability would serve to build me up. It is in our moments of vulnerability that we learn to trust others to serve and to love us. I wish I would have pushed myself in this way just a bit more. I wish I would have allowed myself to feel the sadness, to feel the pain, and to know that I would be alright if I did!

I share this as a means of normalizing the gamut of feelings single parents experience as we have journeyed on our paths of resistance. As I have grown, I have learned that married hetero couples experience their own bouts of difficulties. My married friends have sometimes struggled to feel love in the context of their family structure, just as I have.

So here we are: Taj and I at this critical juncture. He is choosing to live on the East Coast for work and I’m in Southern California. The world awaits me. Now that he is set to jump into this next phase of his life, I will use this freedom from parenting and partners to explore new geographies. Undoubtedly, I have occasional days of sulking and sadness but thankfully they are coupled by days in which my being single feels like a cause for celebration!

Maria R. Tucker is an educator in southern California. Her interests include social justice and love which are pretty much interchangeable. Her son has changed her for the better.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

Behind a great man is a great woman!

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Tue, 15 May 2012 16:00:00 +0000

by Laura Melgarejo

Mujeres PODERosas making community change.

Detras de un gran hombre, hay una gran mujer y una gran comunidad. Behind a great man, there is a great woman and community

My name is Laura Melgarejo, and I am a young immigrant-Latina trying to survive and thrive in the Mission District. I was raised by two strong, wise and hard-working mujeres- my mother and my abuelita. Two mujeres taught me how to be a "lady" and how to be a "warrior" when circumstances would require of me to do so. Two mujeres that will wake up every day before everyone else to make the delicious homemade almuerzo and will go to bed last. Two mujeres that kept mi familia strong, healthy and united. Thanks to these two mujeres I do what I do today.

All women in my life have been instrumental in my choices and paths that I have taken until now. Today, I am a community organizer with People Organizing to Demand Environmental & Economic Justice (PODER) and I have to be thankful to mi abuelita and mom for teaching me the value of community work and the importance of working towards achieving social justice. As a community organizer, I have the privilege and honor to work with my community in a proactive and constant manner. I organize community education workshops for Latino- immigrant families that reside in San Francisco particularly reaching out to families in the Mission and Excelsior Districts of San Francisco.

In my daily interactions with immigrant mothers, I get to see, hear, and experience the hardships, obstacles and challenges that they encounter everyday as housekeepers, care givers, nannies, cooks, janitors, and many more roles that they play in our society to keep the world moving and functioning. At the same time, I am constantly reminded and blown away by the commitment that these mothers make to their communities and families. Las mujeres come after long hours of work to participate in community meetings and activities to be informed about issues that matter to them and their communities. Despite the fatigue and their family's commitments, they come because every day they thrive to be better mothers, wives, workers, friends, and community members. Las mujeres in community play a crucial role in making us move forward as a society. I want to give thanks to las mujeres from my community and las mujeres in my life that taught me how to be strong and delicate at the same time. Their unconditional love keeps me moving and it will keep you moving too! We need all families to be united because fragmented families are fragments in our society. Dia de las madres- Mama’s Day is not just one day. It’s all year around because women need to be treated with respect and dignity everyday not just the day that has been commercialized by business and media. Today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow will be Mama’s day!!! You can start by signing this petition in support of AB 2015. Que viva la mujer!!!

Laura was born and raised in Mexico, in the state of Michoacan. She migrated at the age of fourteen to the United States. She is currently an organizer at PODER working on environmental health issues and immigrant rights and empowerment. She graduated from San Francisco State University, with a BS in Health Education and also holds a CHWC from City College of San Francisco.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

What would it look like if community supported breastfeeding mamas and babies?

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Mon, 14 May 2012 21:00:00 +0000

by Esperanza Dodge

It is absolutely beautiful when a network of people is supportive of a mother and child who are breastfeeding. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have this type of network. If we lived in such a community, mothers would feel supported in their homes, workplaces, and in public.

At Home:
Breastfeeding support should take place before the baby is even born. The woman’s partner and/or family should be open to listening to her decision to breastfeed once the baby comes. When she knows others have her back and are determined to help her make it work, it can make a world of difference. This might mean reading up on breastfeeding together, talking to others who have or are currently breastfeeding, and being prepared with nursing items if needed.

Family continues to play an integral supportive role as the baby grows bigger and continues to breastfeed. It’s important to dispel myths about breastfeeding such as the baby not being able to get enough nutrition off the breast alone. Ideas such as these can be hurtful to the mother and cause her a lot of stress because she is trying to defend the decision she knows is best for her and the baby. Attending breastfeeding classes together or calling the free breastfeeding hotlines can help with any issues or concerns.

In Public:
When the family foundation feels solid, mom can feel more confident in breastfeeding in public if she so chooses. In a supportive society, we would see mothers breastfeeding without shame and communities giving moms a pat on the back rather than escorting moms to the bathroom where they think it is more appropriate to feed an infant. Although breastfeeding in public was once a perfectly normal act in the United States and continues to be in other countries, it has now become stigmatized in this country. This is unacceptable, and we must be advocates for nursing mamas and babies.

At School or Work:
It can be a struggle to get job sites and schools to be breastfeeding-friendly. It is wonderful to know that there are many employers who provide clean and sanitary rooms for moms to pump their milk while on the job. Some even offer refrigerated storage. Even colleges are becoming more progressive and adding lactation sites around campus. High schools still need to catch up to support young mothers who need to either breastfeed and/or pump regularly for their babies.

Although it is illegal in many states for employers to refuse a clean space for pumping, it continues to happen. It is even harder to get adequate breaks to pump as needed. It is our job as mothers and allies to stand up and say this isn’t OK. There are resources and guides on the Internet for employers to implement tips to become more breastfeeding friendly.

What Can You Do?
Let a breastfeeding mother know she isn’t alone. Even if you are not a mother or have never breastfed, let her know that you are an ally. Tell her she is doing a great job, offer to research breastfeeding and pumping laws in your state, and be on her side when she requests her rights at her place of employment. The more that others show breastfeeding mothers and babies their support, the more positive change we will start to see in society.

Esperanza Dodge is a breastfeeding counselor and a mother of a four year old named Julián, and she has been a member of Young Women United in Albuquerque, New Mexico, for over 10 years.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

Have pump, will travel

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Mon, 14 May 2012 17:21:00 +0000

By Jessica González-Rojas

Originally posted at RH Reality Check.

A few weeks ago, I found myself in the back of a rental car on the Rio Grande Valley in Texas, heading towards a gap in the border fence near a sanctuary that a local organizer insisted we MUST see. My colleagues and I were on a field visit to do campaign planning and technical support on reproductive justice, organizing with our local activists that are part of the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health (NLIRH). As we approached the visually painful 18-foot steel fence in the Sabal Palm Sanctuary section of the border, I pulled up a jacket over my chest as the border patrol agent was peeking into our vehicle. I was pumping in the backseat, with my battery-powered Medela pump making that familiar 'whish-whish' sound. My nerves calmed once the border patrol agent let us pass without questioning what the heck I was doing attached to that machine.

As a new mom to a 9-month-old and a new Executive Director for a national reproductive justice organization, I find myself in precarious situations when on work travel. Do I bring my son? Can I find childcare? If not, who will care for my child while I am away? Where will I pump? Where do I store the milk? The quandary leaves me scrambling for resources that range from the kindness of friends, strangers and colleagues, to extra cash to cover overtime childcare costs. Both my partner and I have careers that require a high percentage of travel, leading to a decision to either pump or breastfeed on the road. Since I started my new role in mid-October, fresh off the return from parental leave, I have traveled 21 times to seven cities ranging from Washington, DC to Oakland, California. My son has joined me on a dozen of those trips; some have been quite exciting (White House Holiday Party where, at 4 months old, he was held by the President and First Lady) and others a unique experience (staying at a Chinese-only speaking day care in the Bay Area with a friend's son for two days).

At one meeting that provided on-site childcare, my child rotated to almost every lap of each of my colleagues, often chiming in the dialogue with a gurgle or a defiant 'bah bah bah'. I've nursed on trains, planes and automobiles....one time, performing acrobatic-like maneuvers to wiggle out of a back zippered dress on a shuttle flight in order to position my son to my breast, all while attempting to be "discrete". I felt the stares of men in suits on that typically infant-free business flight from New York to Washington, DC. Despite the endless stories and struggles of traveling with my infant, I have felt very empowered that, as a new mom, I could 'juggle it all'--a career I love and am passionate about, a positive and fulfilling personal life, and attempt at being the best parent I could to my precious little baby. But this is not without the anxiety and difficult decision making that put me at odds with my independent style; I've had to plead for help and support in ways I have never done before.

In all the recent debate about attachment parenting, feminism and 'extended' nursing, including a New York Times 'Room for Debate' feature and a provocative Time magazine cover article, no one talks about the flip side of being a nursing working mama....pumping. During the daily grind, I have to figure out ways to squeeze in three pump sessions a day (or more if traveling without my son), often excusing myself from meetings to seek a private refuge and attach myself to that darn pump. In addition to pumping in the back seat of a car at the Texas-Mexico border, I've pumped at countless random locations, including the U.S. Capitol, bathrooms at bars, funder's offices, empty conference rooms, cramped Amtrak and airplane restrooms, closets, hotel rooms, and the ladies room at a sports arena during a Miami Heat basketball game. With a horrific gasp, I've spilled milk on my office carpet, a hotel bed and a conference room table. While on the pump, I've practiced speeches, joined conference calls, responded to emails or looked at photos of my baby (I am told it is supposed to help the 'let down'....it doesn't for me). And speaking of 'let down', how about the race to work with your heavy breastpump bag in tow (and its serpent-like tubing parts) , getting the pumps in throughout the day, and the rush home to see your baby and find out what you pumped is just not enough for the next day. My partner would be the bearer of good or bad news, as he applied his biomedical engineering degree to measure the liquid gold to the milligram. Yes, pumping is the very un-glamorous side of the decision to breastfeed.

But it comes with the territory and along with the decision to breastfeed (or not), it should be supported. In all the debate about breastfeeding, I feel that it is a personal choice that may or may not work for all mothers; however, it is critical that as a society, we have the policies and infrastructure in place to support those decisions. We should not be relegated to a bathroom or closet because society has not deemed it critical to create private nursing or pumping spaces in public locations. We should not have to feel the burning judgmental stares because we decide to breastfeed on a plane, or anywhere in public. We should not have to hear the banter of folks who are uncomfortable with the idea of mothers continuing to nurse when children are 'too old'. We should not have to hear the denigration of mothers who are unable or uninterested in nursing at all. On this mama's day, we- as a society- need to respect and support the decisions that women and families make when raising their children. We also need to serve as advocates for change at the political and societal level so that the U.S. is no longer one of the lowest-scoring industrialized countries to be a mom, with a dismal breastfeeding policy score of 'poor' and the only developed country to not guarantee paid parental leave. Until then, I will continue to keep track of my random nursing and pumping adventures, hoping for one day to turn this randomness into acceptance.

Jessica González-Rojas is the Executive Director of the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health, the only national organization working on behalf of the reproductive health and justice of the 20 million Latinas, their families and communities in the United States through public education, community mobilization and policy advocacy.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

Mother's Day has arrived and so have we

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Sun, 13 May 2012 06:11:00 +0000

By Nina Jacinto

Originally posted on the Ms. Blog.

Mother’s Day has arrived. This Sunday, tradition dictates that we will celebrate our moms by showering them with flowers or brunches or candy and finding a way to say “I love you.” For many, this may feel sufficient, but for more and more people, it’s not enough.

I, for one, have always struggled to celebrate my mom on this day. The greeting card aisles overwhelm me, and I can never seem to find a card that resonates with me or my family. As I’ve grown older, I find that my friends, my peers and my co-workers have felt a similar anxiety. We’re not being depicted in the mainstream media and it makes it difficult to celebrate our moms in the ways that we want.

I love my mom more than words could say, and I often think about the choices and sacrifices she must have made to raise me, her only child. When my parents left their home in India for San Francisco in the ’70s, my father was eager to make the move. My mother, not so much. She left her sister and her parents back home. Sometimes, when she talks about them, I hear something in her voice–a tone of mourning even after all these years. What it must have taken for her to build a new life and raise a child in a place that didn’t yet feel like home, I’ll never know.

Over the years, I’ve collected stories of motherhood and stored them away in my heart to recall when I consider parenthood: stories of women raising their children by themselves, of women who were not yet ready to become caregivers, of women who found each other and of the ways their love and their family have been made invisible by society. These are stories of struggle, but also of strength. I see that strength reflected in these women’s children. It’s pretty powerful. Yet every year I fail to find the right images and the right words to support these moms.

At Strong Families, we recognize a huge cultural gap between those who are recognized in mainstream Mother’s Day celebrations and the mamas in this country. Shanelle Matthews put this nicely on our blog:

Moms are so varied but we still see only one kind of mother portrayed each year. The commercialization of motherhood not so subliminally shames moms on the periphery by not acknowledging their existence on the one day devoted to celebrating moms.

So we decided to do something about it. We launched a “Mama’s Day Our Way” campaign, featuring beautiful e-cards that capture the varied aspects of mamahood–immigration, separation, disability and queerness–and the love, joy and appreciation we feel for our mamas. There are even cards to appreciate the people who helped birth and care for our children.

While Mother’s Day has different roots in different parts of the world, in North America it began in 1870, when Julia Ward Howe called for a day to celebrate peace and motherhood in response to the casualties of the Civil War. Her words are particularly relevant today:

Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise all women who have hearts,
Whether your baptism be that of water or of tears!
Say firmly: “We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies…”

We’re in the throes of the War on Women, battling with government agencies for our right to make decisions about our bodies, to have the resources and support we need to uplift our families and to thrive in our communities, without a constant threat to our freedom. How can we properly honor our mamas who combat poverty, whose partnerships are denied, who are separated from their children, who are dehumanized in prisons? How do we uplift single mamas and queer mamas and young mamas, and tell them that we support them and stand with them?

On Mother’s Day as on all days, the personal is political. We hope you’ll browse our cards, customize a message and send them to the mamas in your life. You can read testimonies of strength and courage in parenting on our Strong Families blog. And you can take action to ensure that all mamas have the support they need to be strong and the rights they need to be properly recognized.

Nina Jacinto is the Development Manager at Forward Together.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

My Mom's "BFF"

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Sat, 12 May 2012 20:00:00 +0000

by vanessa coe

Elephant Seals!

When I was in 9th Grade, I randomly ended up in a car with my father driving along the 17-mile scenic road in Pebble Beach to visit my childhood best friend. It was beyond awkward to be in a car with my father, who I would only see once a year, but now, he was attempting to have some honest conversation with me about my mother. He turns to me and nonchalantly states, “You know, vanessa, your mother is a lesbian with Shen Ai Yi (my mother’s best friend).”

My initial reaction was irritation. How was he going to try and blame the dissolution of their marriage on my mother being a lesbian? Secondly, so what? If I had to spend years with him, I may also consider avoiding men for the rest of my life. Lastly, I’m thirteen. Why is he talking to me about this? I’d prefer a silent six-hour car ride. Of course, at that point in my life, I just didn’t want to hear anything from him. The last time I had seen him, he kicked me out of a car then proceeded to kick and punch me upon my arrival back home.

Still, even without my father saying anything, I had often wondered about my mother’s relationship with Shen Ai Yi. My mother and Shen Ai Yi used to take me on these road trips as a child, whether that was to check out cherry blossoms or elephant seals. Shen Ai Yi, a photographer, taught me how to use a camera. She teased me, and ran around with me. For once, I felt like a normal kid. At restaurants, people would refer to Shen Ai Yi as my father, and I didn’t correct them. She was the first butch woman I ever knew. I just assumed at some point in my childhood, that they were in fact together. It wouldn’t have been a big deal to me.

Last year, my brother and I were teasing my mother, telling her to just come out already. We didn’t care. I mean, I came out ten years ago, so I only felt it was fair that my mother just told us the truth. She said, “Shen Ai Yi is my soul mate. We are not lovers, but we are soul mates.” I responded, “So, you’re in a relationship without benefits?” She didn’t appreciate that question, but my brother and I laughed.

My mother, for the most part, raised us on her own. She worked long hours, even on weekends. It never occurred to me that my mother needed anyone. She was so fierce. It is only recently, through my own friendships that I have come to understand just what Shen Ai Yi meant to my mother. Her existence in my mother’s life was vital. Even though Shen Ai Yi was out of the country for work most of the time, they talked regularly on the phone. I often heard my mother laughing to the point of tears while on those calls. That laughter filled our home. They supported each other and understood one another. Those brief conversations sustained my mother, revitalized and nourished her being, so that she could continue raising my brother and me. Their friendship wasn’t romantic, but it was intimate. It defined for me what relationships, at their best, could be.

Shen Ai Yi and my mother shared a deep level of trust, love, and companionship. Their relationship has been in the background to all the profound connections I have made with other people throughout my life. It is because of them that I can and do trust, forgive, and love other people. It is because of them that I work to redefine how families and relationships are reflected in our culture. It is because of them that I have a vision for what our world could be. And of course, it is because of them, that I just have to take photos of cherry blossoms and elephant seals whenever I see them.

vanessa coe is the Lead Organizer at API Equality - Northern California, a project of Chinese for Affirmative Action

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

On Coming Out

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Sat, 12 May 2012 19:00:00 +0000

by Erika Vivianna Céspedes

1.

"Coming out"
as Queer
was never
the beginning
or end of it.

2.

Dear Mother,
Yesterday
I felt my body
turn 16 again.

Felt it melt
Back into the crevice
of adolescent
insecurity.

My deepest
flesh wounds
are re-exposed when
I'm around you.

For 7 years,
not counting the rest,
you have chosen
to speak at me.

Give up that
"arte" basura. Watch
your weight, go to school,
get your life together.
Stop wasting time.

You say these things
With a steel spine.
You
never
Look me
In the eyes.

3.

I told you
I was a jot@
yesterday.

It must have surprised you
to find out your youngest hija
grew up to be everything
your catholic
verses taught you
to call dirty. Sucia.

At first, you held
yourself quiet.
Silent. Like my
Resilience.

After two heavy breaths
and a long distant glance:
You chose to speak to me
of diseases. Of promiscuity.
Of not bringing shame to the family.

I hope you remember
how I was grinning
right then.

How I laughed,
as I saw the warm salty
sweat of your anger flood
down your forehead.

I can't recall many
moments when I have felt
like my own god,
but that was one of them.

I summoned Gloria Trevi
and the entire cast of "To Wong Foo".
I felt so chismosa.
So chola.
So true to my
gender wandering
Alma.

You kept talking
Or scolding,
but my body catapulted
up on a chair
and I SCREAMED:

"When I grow up
I'm going to be a gay-fag artist!
I'm going to cry in public
and call that
an act of genius.

Everyday, despite you,
I pray for the eyes
of Eve and the
tongue of Anzaldúa.

So I forgive you for not accepting me.
I forgive you for not remembering how amazing I came
out to be.
I am so proud of myself for making it this
far. Ma, todavia te amo,
even though you make me feel ashamed of everything
that makes me feel most alive.
I think that was the sound
of me breaking open.

I felt like
chanting.
Singing.
Taunting really:

"Si! Soy Jot@
Si! Si! Soy artista. Ay!
Tengo sueños.

No! soy capitalista! Ay!
No! soy gringa!
Soy! Soy una jot@! Ay!"

Right then, I felt compelled to wrap myself
in a giant Colombian flag and drape
my neck in silver rosaries.

I wanted to stand on a metal chair until
security came running.

Right as they got to me,
I wanted to look you in the eye and say:
“Mama. No tienes miedo.
I'm ready. I am ready to survive.
Soy un gay.
Soy puta.
Soy rockera.
Just let them try
to take
me
away."

4.

I didn't take much pride
in watching my
63 year old mother
squirm in front of me.

Its hard to ridicule
someone that you admire
and fear so completely.

In reality,

I told her at
the Oakland airport
20 mins before
she had to leave.

5.

"Coming out"
As Xueer
has never been
the beginning
or end
of this.

Erika Vivianna Céspedes is a 24 year old Colombian jot@ artist, organizer, childcare provider, and long-term community college student. She currently mentors high school youth with 67 Sueños and as a poet mentor and Program Associate for the literary arts organization, Youth Speaks. Stories of Queer Diaspora is her first independent curatorial arts project.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

Passing anniversary of my ma: cecilia ulanday barrett

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Sat, 12 May 2012 18:00:00 +0000

by kay ulanday barrett

i cannot watch video of myself, because i look far too much like you.

after every performance i thank my ancestors, graciously circle my pauses, my beats, the crowd’s laughter or held breath, re-tracing how i can innovate my tools, my limited gift to serve my people, serve youth, serve the person who looks at me with sideway glances, serve the strangers who fear our palm clasp held hands, our most intimate revolutions. i tell people as a joke how unmusical i am. there’s no singer in me, no piano virtuoso or drumming soul scale, only a few times do i beat box in the shower. confession: whatever music i had was all really you, the late night dancer, making heel to toe maps, hardwood jostled by human skin to cha-cha, to boogie, to your “one more time anak, just dance with me.”

during my first stab at puberty, i had flushed cheeks, harbored a resentment as thick as the rice served on tables just before the music came to speaker. embarassed as your dancing partner, the youngest person probably there, you never had any shame. genderfluid and unabashed, you taught me my transgender and queerness without theoretical basis or polysyllabic discourse, without you even meaning to. “here, is how you spin. by this, you come back to a solid position, now watch your feet. look down only if you have to, be firm and careful, you have to be careful with all your movements,” you’d say. “ay! ang galing mo, ah. ang anako is a dancer!” you’d say. so awkward in my body at the time, so dysphoric, your efforts would try. by habit, i learned explosion and loved my body only when it collided into something, a punching bag, a roundhouse kick to the under ribs of a stranger. definitely a choreography, a tact in martial arts, but where i was coming from, there was no room for compassion.

i never brace myself when i talk about being kicked out by you anymore, imagine your pointed fingers cursing me after i was unwrapped, couldn’t hold back, discovered kissing a girl. my tongue won’t censor your disgrace and i tell ones who look, maybe speak the same languages i speak, “i came out so many times, over and over, it took years.” it took fist throngs, prayers by a god i never believed, public gossip, another hungry child on the street. however, i understand your determination, how god didn’t have your back, and still, your ceaseless dedication had no wandering. this country asked you to be the worst of you, watch your homeland country from a staged distance, follow a script that never had intentions of happy endings. i was your only hope. i see this now, your mark on a world, how i came exactly from your making; from microscopic hair follicle to the love of tart foods to vehement beliefs. too similar for our own good, we make unbending fists on tables and in the air whenever pertinent.

i forgive you, you know that? 4 years honoring your passing this month and i can covet how i was pacing on sidewalks without food and how i lovingly understand my homeland, all by you. this is a complex place. a place of blood sting and bountiful songs on saturday nights. this is the smallest example of love of the colonized and struggling free, like my people, my homeland—- the wrath and the joy. my truths are on the microphone, keynote, conversation with comrades over pancit and solidarity movements. i can never deny my love for you, however have grown to distinguish the violence you’ve brought to me, how this parlays in the people i conduct meetings with, hold placards and poem with, how i adore stern women and queers who give it all up in uproarious ways but who may not take care of themselves, taxed by their organizations, flung from approval. how in spite of that, i lament them. how i may stay one meeting, one month too long for those who just need some time i’ll tell myself, they’ll change. you have made me a believer sometimes to my own demise.

you can’t help it can you? garnish all of my emotions, because yes i do miss you, but i’m also so thankful you are rested, kickin’ it with ancestors, probably playing pusoy to your favorite beatles songs. no longer are you bothered by my manly face on television screens, how i might embarrass you, how i talk too loudly, am too emotional, move so awkwardly and unacceptably by society, just like you, but so different, the remix. how i mourn your death and all it took, but cackle on how i don’t have to carry your malcontent as my own rhythm, your judgments into my ears, how i chose to shift my self-making in order appease you. It is complex enough with your body as ashes back home. it’s complex enough in my half chuckle and sigh, how i allow all parts to change this world in ways you never wanted to imagine, but eventually accepted step-by-step, song by song, until you could no longer move.

A CAMPUS PRIDE 2009 Hot List artist, Kay Ulanday Barrett is a poet, performer, educator, and martial artist navigating life as a pin@y transgender queer in the U.S. Contributions include: make/shift, Kicked Out Anthology and Philippine American Psychology. Follow Kay on twitter: @kulandaybarrett or see www.recipesforthepeople.com.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

Mother's Day at our house

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Sat, 12 May 2012 04:38:00 +0000

By Jaime Jenett

Originally posted at The Frisky.

When I think about Mother’s Day, I usually picture a Dad in plaid pajama pants destroying the kitchen with his kids in a clumsy effort to make his wife breakfast in bed. There is flour everywhere, kids are enthusiastically beating something in a bowl and Dad is putting a single red rose in a vase. The entourage brings breakfast to Mom who is leisurely reclining on a mountain of pillows. Soon her kids are nibbling at the pancakes on her tray and her husband tells her she has an appointment for a massage/manicure/facial in a few hours. “Until then”, he says proudly, “you’re off duty”.

Mother’s Day looks a little different in our house. Because our four-year old son has two Moms it’s not always clear who gets special treatment that day. We both work hard all year and could both use a whole day “off”.

The stereotypes about what mothers are supposed to look like and what women are supposed to want have caused confusion for lots of people over the years. This is particularly true for people who look at our family. I am very feminine, never felt the urge to get pregnant and never thought I would become a parent. My wife, Laura, is not feminine at all and has always known she wanted to become a parent. She has always known that she wanted to feel the little feet kicking above the waistband of her men’s cargo pants.

After a number of years together, we decided it was time to try to start a family and that Laura would try to get pregnant. She got pregnant right away and before I knew it, I was a mother. When Simon was born, I was terrified and thrilled. It was time, I realized, to figure out what kind of a Mom I was going to be.

I didn’t have much time before it was decided for me. Four months after Laura gave birth to Simon, he became critically ill and was admitted to the ICU in congestive heart failure due to Cardiomyopathy. Laura hadn’t planned to go back to work until Simon was about was about 6 months old, so she immediately took up residence in the hospital with him. I took a week off of work when he first got ill but as the days turned into weeks, we realized I had to go back to work so we could keep a roof over our heads, food on our plates and much needed health insurance.

We slowly settled into a routine. We would wake up, go to the hospital, after 30 minutes I would leave Laura at the hospital, go to work all day, go straight to the hospital after work until Simon’s bed time and then we’d go home. We did this for four months.

Finally, Simon finally stabilized enough to come home. We were told that he was going to have a lot of residual health and developmental issues and realized one of us was going to have to stay home with him to manage his care. We both had Masters degrees and careers that we loved but decided, for a variety of reasons, that Laura would stay home and be Simon’s primary caregiver. It turned out I was going to be a shell-shocked, broken-hearted, singlehandedly-financially-supporting-a-family-of-three kind of Mom and Laura was going to be a stay-at-home Mom. Indefinitely.

We found that our gender-role divide became sharper once Simon got out of the hospital. I would get up every morning to shower and get dressed to go to work in an office. Laura was lucky if she got a shower and changed her clothes before Simon needed something. I worried about presentations and bosses and office politics. Laura worried about fevers and play groups and developmental progress. When we lay in bed comparing notes at the end of the day, sometimes it felt like we were reading from a 1950’s TV script but I was the husband.

Laura ended up becoming the queen of all things domestic. Not only does she manage 90% of Simon’s needs, which are extensive, she now does the lion’s share of house work. She’s the one to take the dog to the vet, the car to the shop, do the laundry, get the birthday presents. Her life looks a lot like your typical middle-America stay-at-home Mom.

With that role of “Mother” so archetypically filled, I’m not sure where that leaves me. I never spent much time imagining what kind of a mother I would be since I never really thought I’d be one. That vacuum often leaves me turning to stereotypes As a lesbian mom in this curious “Leave it to Beaver” set up I find myself in , I am struggling to find a meme that fits.

Sometimes as I kiss my wife and child on the head and set out to bring home the bacon, I find myself dressed like June Cleaver but feeling more like Ward. For obvious reasons, that doesn’t quite fit. Other days I find myself grateful to be heading out to an office because what Laura does looks WAY harder than what I do all day. Not wanting to be home leaves me feeling like a cold, heartless, career-driven “Working Mom” who thinks of no one but herself and can’t be bothered by her children. That doesn’t sound like what I’m aiming for either.

This uncharted territory is a little unnerving. We’ve been told that we are trailblazers, redefining motherhood for the women that will follow us and that what we are doing is important. It sounds really noble and brave, but sometimes it just feels...confusing. I guess this Mother’s Day I’ll just keep working on figuring out what kind of mother I am and see if I can squeeze in a waffle somewhere.

Jaime Jenett is a femme dyke, public health worker, mother, and lover of all things food related. She and her wife Laura have a fantastic blog about their experiences as parents of a kid with special needs. Their family was recently featured in a short film as part of "The Devotion Project," a series a short documentary portraits of LGBTQ couples and families, chronicling and celebrating their commitment and love.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

On mothering a Black boy

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Fri, 11 May 2012 23:00:00 +0000

by Bernadette Brown

In spite of the lack of praise, one of my favorite movies is Pushing Tin. Billy Bob Thornton plays Russell Bell, a rather staid (maybe even Zen in some circles) man married to a beautiful woman. When Russell learns of his wife’s affair with Nick Falzone, his calm reaction startles Nick. Noticing this, Russell simply states, “If you ever want to sleep at night, don’t marry a beautiful girl.” I oftentimes think of that quote but not in relation to marrying a beautiful girl (especially given my pro-single proclivity). No, my twist on that phrase is more, “If you ever want to sleep at night, don’t try raising a black boy in America.”

Fifteen years ago today, I was in the throes of labor, in the comfort of my home, with my midwife pouring water over my belly whilst I relaxed in the tub, naturally surrendering to the most empowering, ecstatic endeavor I have ever experienced (seriously, we have video footage that captures me smiling from ear-to-ear, exclaiming “labor is pretty cool!” when I was eight centimeters dilated). It brought me to this very Zen-like state, a state that I presumed would transfer to parenting. It did not.

Jabran was ten years old when I gave him the first racial profiling speech. We were engaged in the obligatory back-to-school shopping. He wanted a sweater that had some hip hop insignia. I looked at him and said, “Honey, if I buy you this sweater, NYPD is going to pick you up.” I was a public defender in Manhattan at the time so I knew of which I spoke.

Last year Jabran had his first devastating racial profiling incident by a white man in the neighborhood. Jabran, in a way that would put many adults to shame, handled this act of violence with impressive aplomb. But, when we were finally home together, my child unleashed a flood of tears and fears that almost caused my undoing.

Jabran’s life, and mine, changed forever that day. We both knew the shift occurred. Many people would no longer see him the way we see him- a smart, funny honor student who, at age 12, and of his own volition, decided to take a First Aid class so he could help my sister with my niece who has cerebral palsy. But, what if he wasn’t even any of those things? What if he was a struggling black child, subjected to one trauma after another, just trying to survive? Does that child deserve any less protection? All of our children matter but many people only see black boys (and later, men) as threatening figures whose sole purpose is to, at best, feed the coffers of the prison industrial complex, or, at worst, not exist at all.

I cried for weeks over what happened to Jabran, and then even more over Trayvon Martin. A couple of weeks after Trayvon was murdered, Jabran had the day off from school. I asked if he was going to play basketball with his friends. He solemnly replied, “I’m just going to stay inside today.” For the first time in months, I was relieved. I knew that I would not need to take the cell phone with me every time I went to the bathroom at work lest I would miss a cry for help from him. I knew that he was safe that day, tucked away in the house, and not subjected to who might be laying in wait in the public sphere. This is what it means to profoundly love and raise a black son in America: to not have the luxury of the safety bubble that other parents have around their children, to regularly be on the verge of coming undone, and to never, ever be able to sleep at night.

But! I'm an advocate because I believe in the resiliency of our children, and appreciate the advocates of all races who strive to make society safer for everyone. I am in awe of Jabran and his similarly situated peers- boys who are intelligent, compassionate and capable, who continue to believe in themselves when many others do not. In keeping with his birth, Jabran teaches me a lot about bringing more Zen to parenting, and perhaps I need that more than extra sleep.

Bernadette Ebony Brown is the proud mom of a beautiful teenager and a women’s health, LGBT and all around social justice advocate.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

Motherhood: An Exercise in Fear Management

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Fri, 11 May 2012 23:00:00 +0000

This is a repost from Western State Center's blog.

by Aimee Santos Lyons

Twelve years later, mamahood continues to be my most challenging struggle. Three kids and there’s a consistent sensation of always trying to catch up—with them and their daily needs, and with the ever-changing world they’re growing up in.

Let me be clear, I have often felt the most powerful being a mama to my three kids. But let me also be abundantly clear, I have also been at my weakest and most helpless being a mama to my kids. There are certainly times when I feel that being a mother is an exercise in fear management, working through varying levels of concern, anxiety, and sheer panic.

Some terrors are simple and easily dispelled: fevers, school grades, fights in the playground.

Some terrors are paralyzing: having your children threatened with expulsion; being unable to feed them; or losing your children to strange agencies, separated and unable to find them.

When I was a young mother, the father of my eldest child threatened to take my son away from me. At the time, I had only been in the United States for a year. My son’s father, a U.S. citizen, was unhappy that I was talking of leaving him because of his abuse. I was not a citizen, he said, so he could easily have our son taken away from me. I begged him to let us go back home to the Philippines. He threatened me with a knife. I didn’t think I would survive that night. I sat all evening long wide awake with my back to the wall and a screwdriver in my hand. When I’m asked how you go through a traumatic experience like that, the answer that quickly comes to mind is that my son pulled me through it. And even though it wasn’t much of a thinking process, the adrenaline coursing through me at the time was also fueled by the thought of my mother. Somehow her faith came to me in my moment of need. I also seized on thoughts of my grandmother’s mother, who, as a single parent in the 1920s, had journeyed through the central plains of Northern Philippines to the mountains and rivers of the south with four young girls in tow, so she could clear and claim homestead land for her family and secure their future. She had to steel herself against snakes, thieves, and would-be assaults. I had a desperate aspiration to mimic her strength. Kinship, faith, and breaking my sense of isolation by calling on the stories of the mothers before me helped me summon courage.

My most prized mommy talent is making my kids feel brave. I explain it to my children by saying courage is another word for “standing up.” Being able to cultivate courage also happens to be an incredibly useful skill in community organizing. The easiest way I know to make people believe in the power of their resistance is to break their sense of isolation. I find that loneliness and fear are twin emotions. When I’m able to foster connection, I find people are more able to speak up, call things out, and make demands for just change.

Western States Center, in partnership with Forward Together and seven other groups, is bringing this radical idea into movement-building. We call it Strong Families. What if all the grassroots groups who work with the families who are consistently pushed to the margins and thrown under the bus talked about their causes as if they were all connected? What if we worked as if we were facing the same stigma and hate? What if I, in my parenting, felt connected to immigrant mamas at the northern border fighting to reclaim their community? What if I, in my resistance, understood deeply my relationship to mothers who lose their children to juvenile justice, foster care systems, and/or incarceration?

I would feel less alone. And hopefully, we would all feel braver.

This week Western States Center is embarking on an experiment. We’re betting that there’s an appetite for the stories of mamas who often don’t get the star treatment. We’re betting that you will recognize the magnificent humanity in their lives, in their work, and in their families.

This Mama’s Day week, we’ll be featuring the stories of three grassroots organizations working in Washington state who are mobilizing and lifting up the voices of different mamas: Community to Community, Got Green, and Catalyst for Kids. And as different as they may all look, sound, and work, we’re betting you’ll recognize that they are all kin to you. And we’re hoping you won’t be able to look away.

Aimee Santos Lyons is the Strong Families Northwest Project Manager for Western States Center.

This blog is part of Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Make and send a custom Mama’s Day e-card at www.mamasday.org. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

That Mom

noreply@blogger.com (Forward Together) — Fri, 11 May 2012 21:00:00 +0000

by Laura Fitch

Sometimes I want to be that mom. Not the mom that wakes up and first thing disconnects a tube from her son's belly that just administered medication.

Sometimes I'm tired of it. I'm tired of sitting and pumping food and medications into my son while we watch Monsters Inc. for the 85th time so that he'll be still and less likely to throw up that food and medication (all over the couch, himself, the dog, and/or me).

I want to be that mom. The mom who stresses over the fact there was a half-eaten plate of scrambled eggs instead of a clean one. The mom that sighs heavily over cleaning up said scrambled eggs off the floor. I want to be the mom that doesn't have to clear seven syringes off the table every morning but maybe a sippy cup instead.

I would be that mom in a heartbeat. That's not funny. Heartbeat...not fucking funny.

There was a boy today at day camp who was just losing his shit. His dad had dropped him off and he was NOT happy about it. Huge tears rolling down red cheeks. Sniffling. Hiccuping with the sad desperation of separation.

I could see the gut-wrenching pain his father was feeling as he walked away, knowing that it was what needed to happen. I would be that parent in a heartbeat (fucking heartbeats).

Instead I get a quick kiss without eye contact, because the Barn is up and you can actually climb inside of it (once you've kissed Mommy goodbye.)

I'm not proud of my son for being so well adjusted and secure. Today I would trade that in for another Simon who hasn't gotten used to dozens of doctors, nurses, therapists, friends, and family who have come to take care of him, wish him well, make him do exercises, take his blood, work on speech, listen to his heart, distract him.

I would like to be that mom. The mom who stresses over leaving her crying son but then finds out at pickup that he mellowed and played well for the rest of the day. Shit, I'd even rather be that mom who gets the call an hour later that he's not stopped crying and I need to come and get him. Instead I'm the mom who walks into the room, drops his feeding pump bag off in the fridge, and checks his diaper stash in his cubby because potty training is so far off for this three year old due to diuretics and stool softeners and language delays.

Today I want to be that mom. The one who's kid will only eat white foods. The one whose kid is growing out of their shoes so fast that they can actually hear the cash register at Foot Locker ringing in their head. I want to be that mom who has to work at keeping up with their kid, shouting a loud, "Simon, STOP!" as they head off toward the edge of the sidewalk. I really want to be that mom.

I want to be the mom who got to work off her baby weight and was so frustrated that those last five pounds just wouldn't come off. I would take that in a fucking heartbeat instead of being the new mom sitting in the hospital chair for 15 hours a day holding her months-old baby and wondering how she could reach the Peanut M&Ms in her bag on the floor so that she didn't starve but didn't wake her son whose resting heart rate just dropped below 100 for the first time in weeks.

I want to be that mom who had to pump her breast milk at work while staring at a picture of her kid for "let down." I want to be that mom who didn't stop offering the boob until her kid finally had to say, "I'm done Mother, now can you please let me finish my algebra homework."

Three years ago today I stopped getting to even think about not being that mom. Three years ago today I woke up knowing that I was never going to get to be that mom because my son was diagnosed with a chronic and possibly fatal heart condition.

That was the first day of me being this mom.
The one who savors each day.
Each breath.
Lives and laughs with greater appreciation for living and laughing.
Is so thankful for the outstanding little man who makes it so much easier than it could be.
Feels the presence of the divine so much more.
And understands the power of family, friends, and community on a cellular level.
And more evolved shit like that.

Today, I kinda just want to say Fuck Her. Fuck that shit about "unlearning" the grass is always greener. Because sometimes the grass really is greener and doesn't need as much mowing or weeding or "all natural for your child/pet" fertilizer.

Today I would be that mom. I would.

In

a

fucking

heartbeat.

That Mom Part 2

One child receives a new heart and one child's heart stops beating. That's been the last 24 hours for us over here in Cardiomyopathy Village.

And I am that mom.

The one who runs into a door jam and curses loudly (hoping that Simon will not pick up motherf-er and repeat it all day at camp). The one who primes his tube feeding setup and then lets it run all over the counter because I forgot to put the extension end back into the bag as I left it to go get his meds and barf towel in place

I am that mom. Not the mom who had to make the unthinkable decision of taking my son off life support and letting him go.

Except I have been that mom. It just ended differently.

Jaime and I were those moms for about 48 hours. There was that weekend where we went down to Stanford to meet with another heart doctor to decide whether or not to list Simon for heart transplant. When Jaime and I decided not to, we assumed that it also meant that we would need to begin the process of saying goodbye to Simon. We spent the next 48 hours looking into hospice and palliative care. We talked about organ donation. We held and touched Simon in different ways. We walked, talked, ate, slept, and cried with Death. She was right there with us.

I will never forget that morning as we shared our decision with Dr. Rosenfeld and asked if we should get started with palliative care.

I will never forget hearing that, "Oh no, we have a few more things to try."

That "Oh no."

Oh. No. Two words can be said in so many ways. This was like a dismissal accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders, a gentle frown. Like something you might say to someone who offered you a second helping of a very rich dessert. "Oh no, I couldn't eat another bite."

Except this was, "Oh no, you don't have to say goodbye to your five month old son just yet."

And that was the turning point for us away from Death. Or her from us. I will never forget that time. Those 48+ hours where Jaime and I did what no parent should ever have to do or even think about.

But Brooke and Lee did it. And their "oh no" was very different than ours. Lachlan has been let go and there are only so many of us (too many of us) who know or almost know what they are feeling. I am sitting with Brook and Lee, as close to them as I can get, through passageways that are only meant for the Divine. I am sitting here on my couch, as close to Australia as I can get. As close to understanding the death of a child as I can get. It's pretty close. But I am this mom. Not that mom.

I dropped Simon off at day camp this morning. He kissed me goodbye with a viking hat on, one horn pointing up, the other horn pointing down. I will pick him up in one hour and forty minutes and we will go right to the potty to see if we can manage a poop in the toilet and not his diaper. I will give him Lasix via his G-tube at 2 p.m. and then at 5 p.m. we will head off to our therapeutic horseback riding session. Then we will have Shabbat dinner with dear friends, lighting candles, drinking wine (juice), and breaking bread.

I am that mom. The mom who learns that her son is knocking down other kid's block towers and not saying he's sorry. Granted, he's doing it because he's developmentally delayed and more like a two year old than the three or four year olds he's at camp with—but still I am that mom. That mom who, for the time being, is loving, touching, exasperated, surprised, amazed, pushed to the edge, delighted, and inspired by my son.

This Cardiomyopathy...this thing...this life...this morning...it's all so much. And for little Brooke who had her transplant and is not yet 24 hours postsurgery: Rock On! She is already asking to go to the playroom at the hospital and getting to spend hours snuggling in her parent's laps.

I'm gonna take a breath right now and feel it all. You could do it too if you want.

It's a lot, right?

Laura is a stay at home mom of a child with special developmental and medical needs. Her pay rate does not reflect the work that she does. It also does not reflect, in any way, the benefits and rewards of the position.

This blog is part of Strong Families' Mama’s Day Our Way blog series. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act, and talk about families.