If, like me, you have recently completed taking (or are preparing to take) the GRE–the Graduate Record Examination–you may be asking the same question I am:  what, exactly, is the point?

ETS, the nonprofit company that creates and delivers over 50 million tests world-wide (to the tune of $150 a pop–$7.5billion ain’t a bad gross income for a nonprofit, eh?) states the purpose of the GRE is this:

“…measures verbal reasoning, quantitative reasoning, critical thinking, and analytical writing skills that are not related to any specific field of study.”

Let me tell you this:  when re-studying algebra, geometry, exponents, square roots…etc.,  after having nothing to do with them for well over 18 years (okay, that’s not entirely true–I took the GRE test thirteen years ago, prior to applying for PA school–I would have re-studied these things at that time, too) it definitely feels like approaching subjects that are not related to any specific field of study.

Sure, if I were planning to suddenly become a quantum physicist or a hoping to apply to Harvard’s mathematics department, I might care about being able to approach this type of equation without a care in the world:

y. For x = (1,1), and y = (4,5),
|x – y| = √([1–4]² + [1–5]²) = 5

But even after attending PA school and practicing medicine for five years, I never had to calculate anything more complicated than converting pounds into kilograms and computing milligrams per kilograms for writing prescriptions.

And, yes, I have to admit (as a writer) that, after studying pages upon pages of three- and four-syllable vocabulary words, I am proud to know the meanings of words like recalcitrant, pusillanimous, esoteric (get it??) and punctilious.

But, really, what most of us slaving over this ambiguous measure of intelligence walk away with is a sense of insufficiency.  We know we are being compared, statistically, to all of those other test takers out there who happen to be engaging in the same  masochistic exercise at roughly the same time.  We know we are being asked to exemplify mastery over topics we will have no use for (most of us, anyway) for another decade or two or, perhaps, for the rest of our lives (until our kids get into junior high, that is, and they need help with their algebra homework).  We are being asked to pretend that our knowledge of reducing fractions and square roots has anything to do with, for example, our desire to go forth and study women during pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood and their interactions with the medical systems during these integral times of life. 

Integral times…integral…integers…oh, shit…maybe there is a link there after all…

…Eh-hem…

So, anyway, where was I?  Oh, yes, lambasting the GRE-taking process:

It would be improvident of me to disregard those folks who happen to score well on all aspects of standardized tests like the GRE.  We’ve all heard it at least once–the brilliant son-of-a-gun who nails a perfect score on the GRE (or SAT, GMAT, MCAT, LSAT, etc), thus proving their capacity to go forth and rule the world or take down Vegas in the swoop of a well-planned Black Jack hand.  Yes, in fact, those people exist out there.  Kudos to them.

But for the rest of us poor test-taking schmucks who truly believe in our capacity to study and (dare I say?) make a difference in our chosen field of interest, how are we to interpret the test preparation and test taking experience?  Moreover, how are we to think of ourselves when those test scores come back–telling us that a certain percentage of people out there are smarter than we are and a certain percentage less-so?  Do the perfect or near-perfect score recipients have license to snub their scholarly noses at those of us who squeaked by with lower scores?  Is the risk that would-be scholars with solvent potentials cut their own throats and turn tail–returning to the world of unsatisfactory career trajectories and extinguished dreams–all because of a 60th percentile (40th? 80th?) result?

How do we translate those ambiguous ratings into intellectual capacity, future potential and self-worth?  Perhaps the more appropriate question:  how do colleges and universities translate those numbers into future potential?

I wrote this post about six weeks ago.  Even as I look back at what has transpired since formalizing our plans to move to the San Francisco Bay area, etc., etc., a lot has continued to happen.  I would love to have been able to continue my 3-4 posts/week schedule I’d previously maintained but, well, there just hasn’t been time.

I’m glad to write, however, that our life in Bozeman has continued to click along nicely.  Our daughter LOVES first grade.  She LOVES her teacher.  She is incredibly proud of herself as she acquires new skills (reading chapter books, performing simple addition, learning to read time, learning about mummies, Pharaohs and other ancient Egyptians…) in and outside of school.  She even landed a part in a Christmas performance through her dance school–anyone attending T’was the Night Before Christmas here in town, watch for the farthest to the right Little Rockette.  Meanwhile, our boys are becoming more accustomed to their new (temporary) preschool–perhaps even moving past “tolerating it” to “liking it.”

Now in the middle of my last childbirth preparation class for the year, I am sad and nostalgic at the idea of not teaching for a while.  It has been an awesome nearly-five-year run, and already I can tell I’m going to miss it.  As I press on, I mourn the loss of the baby of one of my couples and, in so doing, am reminded of the sometimes fragile and precious nature of life.

I think too of how we, as parents, cling to that fragility which we sometimes perceive in our children.  Perhaps better said, we obsessively care about our children’s safety and well-being…the loss of a child being the worst possible fate a person could ever imagine.

While down in California last week on my big house-hunting trip (five days, twenty-five houses, 289 miles on the rental car) I felt like I experienced a close call with our kids–even though they weren’t there with me.

On day four of my trip, I thought I’d found the right home for us to rent.  I’d spent time there with the owner–talking about the house and all it’s wonderfully remodeled features, and how it would make a lovely place to bring our children to.  The woman told me about her daughter, showed me which of the three bedrooms she had slept in.  She faxed me the application that afternoon.  I completed it right away.

After returning from the city where I met with a woman in the SFSU Women and Gender Studies department, I dropped onto the hotel bed, exhausted from the preceding days’ activities.  I turned on the tv–telling myself an hour of vegging was allowed after all my hard work.  Oprah’s face filled the screen.  Then, the faces of the missing children she and John Walsh were highlighting on that particular show.

My heart dropped:  of all the researching houses and neighborhoods and schools and churches and preschools I had done that week, I hadn’t researched any of those things in terms of registered offenders.  I turned off the television and turned on my computer.  I pulled up the Family Watchdog (National Sex Offender Registry) website.  I typed in the address of the house we were looking to rent.  As the screen lit up with red, yellow and green boxes–many of them surrounding the little house icon that represented my chosen address–my heart dropped again.  Directly across the street from the rental house lives a registered child molester.  Even worse:  his home backs up to an elementary school.

Scheduled to leave in 24 hours, I sprang into action–making phone calls, searching Craigslist and, yes, questioning the owner of the home we thought we would rent.  Did she know about this guy?  Was she aware there was an offender across the street from where she’d previously lived with her daughter?  If she knew, why didn’t she tell me?  (Ok, I know the answer is obvious here–she has a house to rent.  If she told every potential renter who walked through the door there was a registered offender across the street, the place would sit empty and she would lose money.)

Long story short, I confirmed the presence of this guy (whom the landlady downplayed as “quiet, a little weird, but he keeps to himself and doesn’t bother anybody”–exactly the kind of description people tend to give of freakazoids who end up abducting, raping or killing someone) and found another house for a family to rent.

Even when the mere thought of harm to our children presents itself, most parents I know have little tolerance.  Through my work in childbirth education, I have gained a whole new understanding for the words strength, vitality and empowerment.  I even believe in the uber strength of children–even infants.  I have witnessed countless examples of this within my own family.  But, I have also been reminded of the fragility that sometimes accompanies life.

For my students who recently lost their baby, I can imagine how they would pine for the opportunity to face a move to a sex offender-infested neighborhood (yes, to me, even one offender equals infested–I have NO tolerance for that kind of slime) if only to have that child in their lives to protect.  Life is fragile and fierce and wonderful, all at the same time.  And when it comes to my fragile, fierce and wonderful children, their safety and well-being will always come first.

Last Friday, on NPR’s Morning Edition, I was gifted with the chance to relive a tiny bit of my childhood.  I got to hear recordings from the original Hundred Acre Wood adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

Writer David Benedictus has been granted the awesome task of writing a new chapter–or ten–to the Hundred Acre Wood series of stories.  The new series has been penned Return to the Hundred Acre Wood and is indicative of one of the series’ apparent common themes:  Christopher Robin’s return to his old childhood friends after he’s grown up a bit.

Originally crafted by A. A. Milne in 1926 and illustrated by E. H. Shepard, Benedictus has worked for years to research every little bit about Pooh and his friends–including visiting the stretch of forest that Milne apparently took refuge in as inspiration for his own writings.  In his interview with Lynn Neary, Benedictus states that he believes he’s done a great job in recreating the imaginary land of Pooh, Piglet and the others, and even added a new character for audiences to love:

“Benedictus says one decision that involved some wrangling was the creation of a new character; he was determined there should be one, though his first concept — a grass snake — was not well-received.

‘There were those who thought a grass snake would be too scary for children,” explains Benedictus. So instead, the new character became Lottie the Otter, whom the author describes as “a bit of a snob and … a bit catty, too.’”

The new series is available now for a bargain price of $10.99 soft/$13.99 hardcover.  I’m not generally in the business of promoting products on this blog but–what an awesome gift this would make for a family with kids at just the right age!

If you could request another one of your childhood favorites be recreated…what would it be?

For me–definitely Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass.

Check out this awesome post on the history of midwifery.

I’ll start this post by confessing that I am writing from the perspective of an observer–a well informed observer, perhaps, but an observer nonetheless.
I have never experienced the tragedy and grief that accompanies having a miscarriage.

My husband came home the other night and informed me that the wife of someone he knows recently suffered a miscarriage.  The sorrow, relayed from person to person, was evident in the brief announcement he shared with me.

Truth be told, a large percentage of women will experience a miscarriage at some point in their life:  fifteen percent of known pregnancies end in miscarriage while a full fifty percent of fertilized eggs actually fail implantation–resulting in miscarriages that women aren’t even aware of.  The majority of miscarriages occur early in pregnancy–usually within the first trimester (twelve weeks).  Only one percent of miscarriages occur after twenty weeks of gestation–the event is then referred to as a stillbirth.

Now, it’s all fine and dandy for me to talk about these issues in such a practical, emotionally-removed way, but for the woman who has experienced the grief of losing a baby–even if that baby is still smaller than a dime–statistics are likely unhelpful at the very least,  and callous at the very best.

In our culture, it is common practice to keep a pregnancy–even a much wanted pregnancy–a secret until passing that magical 12 week mark.  Why?  All of the above.

As far as I can discern it, women (and their partners) want to keep their pregnancies under wraps so that if they fall into that fifteen percent–if they lose the pregnancy–they won’t have already told the world about it.

But really, at a micro level, I still have to ask the question–why?

I have a few theories about this, and hope to receive feedback from others to expand this list of theories.

1) For practical, work-related reasons, a woman may choose to delay announcing a pregnancy to her employer/co-workers until she has:
a.  figured out what she will do, work-wise, after the baby is born.
b.  figured out how her employer will handle her as an employee with an       assumed, up-coming  maternity leave.
c.  figured out the likelihood of her job security in the event that she opts for an extra-long maternity leave.  (In our country, 6-8 weeks is pathetically considered a “typical” maternity leave.  If you’ve already had children and are reading this post, you will know how small and vulnerable; how needy and young a six-week-old infant is.  I can’t wait for the day when a “typical” maternity leave in the good ol’ US of A is three-six months, and a “long” maternity leave is a year.)

2.  Social/emotional reasons
Let’s face it:  only fifty percent of pregnancies are planned.  And when the unplanned fifty percent of pregnancies occur, there tends to be some consideration to undertake.  If the pregnancy occurs outside of a committed relationship or (God-forbid) as the result of an act of violence, the woman likely has a lot of soul-searching to do before she starts announcing to her partner, friends and family members that she is “in the family way.”  Perhaps a pregnancy occurs between two people who are in a committed relationship–but the pregnancy is still very much a surprise:  a drastic change from whatever set of plans the two people had arranged between themselves.  This too may require soul searching:  how do we get our minds around this drastically different  path on our mutual road map?

3.  A woman’s ( or couple’s) fear of emotional vulnerability:
“If we tell everyone about our pregnancy, and we end up miscarrying–then we’ll have to tell all those same people about losing the baby.  There will be questions, unsolicited comments and well-meant pieces of advice that will cause us to re-live our agony again and again.”

This is the part of the equation I find so perplexing.

In other scenarios, when we experience the loss of a loved one, it is socially acceptable to immerse ourselves in the comfort of others; to wear our grief on our sleeves and accept the nurturing that others willfully offer us.  It’s OK, expected and encouraged to talk through the details of that person’s death–moments spent in the hospital with him or her.  Details of a sudden or prolonged illness.  Difficult, peaceful or comforting good-byes.

But when it comes to the loss of a not-yet-born baby (I know, I know…I’m sounding very Right Wing, here) we expect ourselves to bear our grief in relative silence…disallowing friends and family the opportunity to know about our loss and comfort us.

Is this emotional holding others at arm’s length about stoicism?  Or is it just about protecting oneself from the unfortunately idiotic things that (well-meaning) people end up saying in what they feel is an awkward situation?  Conversely, is it about protecting oneself from the isolating silence that may arise from the friends, family and colleagues that would have known about the pregnancy–evidence that members of that particular woman’s support system is poorly qualified to walk with her in her time of grief and loss.

From friends of mine who have had miscarriages, these are the types of comments/suggestions they had been in receipt of in the days/weeks/months following their miscarriage(s):

“I’m sorry for your loss–are you going to start trying again soon?”

“You know, it’s for the best:  there was probably something wrong with the baby to begin with.”

“It must have been God’s plan…”

“Good thing it happened so early on in the pregnancy…”

My suspicion, in the face of a miscarriage, is it’s probably better to start with simply acknowledging the person/couple’s loss by saying something like,

“I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you…”

and offer your emotional availability,

“I really want you to know that I’m here for you…anytime, day or night.  If you want to talk, or if you want someone to be with in silence, please know you can call anytime.  Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

Another interesting twist to this whole dilemma is how parents who’ve already birthed one or more children handle their pregnancies.  Call it feeling cavalier, relaxed or (can you even believe it?) confident in the body’s ability to carry a child…some women/couples announce subsequent pregnancies from the moment the woman has peed on the stick and come up with a positive result.

We certainly found this to be true with our second and third pregnancies.  Perhaps this has to do with trusting that if the woman’s body had successfully carried a baby to a healthy birth in the past, that there’s no reason to doubt that same course again and, therefore, announcing the good news feels safer.  Statistically, this doesn’t necessarily make sense, but the point here is that something shifts in this woman’s/couple’s psyche–allowing her to open herself up to sharing her good news with friends and loved ones.

I am thankful to have never suffered the deep grief that accompanies the loss of a much-wanted baby.  I am thankful to have carried to near-term all three of our children (albeit with a few glitches along the way).  I’m also thankful for the gift several of my friends have given me in sharing their experiences with miscarriage.  Not because I’m interested in voyeurism.  But because I believe their naked honesty has allowed me to be more compassionate and, when suitable, more willing to listen rather than talk in the face of someone else’s personal tragedy.

What are your experiences with miscarriage?  What do you have to add to this topic?

Lastly, here are some links for you:

From the Cleveland Clinic

On-line Support Group

Ideas for supporting someone who’s had a miscarriage

A couple months ago, my kids and I met an old college friend for lunch at a park.  She brought her infant son.  We brought more food than we could possibly devour–especially once the food had been thoroughly soaked by the sprinkler system heads that went off without warning.

Over the course of an hour or so, this friend and I haltingly chatted while I wrangled my three ruffians and she coerced her little one to take in a few ounces from his bottle.

Truthfully, there wasn’t anything tremendously remarkable about the day (aside from the sprinkler debacle), I would have imagined, from my kids’ perspectives.  We were at a park we’d been to countless times before.  It was a mid-summer day like any other–except for the odd flying thing soaring overhead just prior to our departure.

My friend and I hadn’t been able to decipher what it was–the thing. A glider?  An oddly shaped helicopter?  A weather balloon?  My friend had pointed it out to our four-year-old son, in hopes that his likely superior vision, compared to hers or mine, could clear up the confusion.

But no such luck.

Six weeks later, this evening, while eating cheap, baked frozen pizza and green bean-edamame-tomato salad (I know, quite a combo, right?) Landon started drawing all sorts of wild connections together.

“Remember the story on the news about the two fire fighters who died, Mom?”

I wasn’t  immediately sure if he was referring to the firefighters who’ve recently died in the fire north of LA, or if he was referring to something he’d heard on NPR’s 8th anniversary of 9/11 coverage.  Regardless, I just went with it.

“Sure, honey.  I remember.  What about it?”

“It’s sad that they died, isn’t it, Mom?”

“Of course it is.  It’s sad when anyone dies–especially when they die doing their job, which involves helping other people.”

“I’ll bet God is sad that they died.”

“I’m sure you’re right, honey.”

The ensuing long pause was punctuated by a thoughtful crunch of over-cooked pizza crust.

“That was probably them flying over head that day.”

“What?  What day?  Flying overhead where?”

“You know, that day at the park.  It was probably the two firefighters we saw flying overhead.”

“What park?  What are you talking about, honey?”

“At the park.  When we got wet from the sprinklers.  We saw something flying in the sky.  It was probably the two firefighters on their way to go live with God.”

Do you have the chills, yet?

I read a book, long before I was a parent, called Old Souls by Thomas Shroder.  The book was written by a journalist who traveled to the Middle East — Beirut, to be exact, to research a rumor he’d heard about the inordinate amount of children who seem to posses old (insert reincarnated) souls.

Now, I’m not entirely convinced of the whole reincarnation thing.  But I’m also not entirely against its possibility.  The fact is, I just don’t know.  I think there’s a heck of a lot out there that many of us won’t even be able to grasp until we’ve passed on to the other side.  And, then again, there are probably some uberly enlightened folk that are able to grasp far more than the rest of us.

But one of the wonderful things about that book–and other sources on similar topics which I’ve read–is the idea that children maintain a much greater connection to the spiritual world than adults.  Some even argue that certain children are still able to remember what heaven is like–perpetuating, of course, the idea that each individual soul comes from heaven to earth and therefore there must be some opportunity for memories to have formed and perhaps even been maintained.

I’m not claiming here that I think this particular son of ours is an old soul.  Or clairvoyant.  Or anything else related.  But, wow–what a connection to make.  Especially after a run-of-the-mill day at the park that no one in our family has talked about since (Except for the sprinklers.  That seemed to make an impression.)

Other than in the catacombs of the mysteriously amazing brain, where neuronal connections occur with lightning-like speed and unbelievable permanency, where do children come up with these fantastic connections?

Inevitably, upon making a new acquaintance, I face that age-old ritual: plugging each other with the question, “What do you do?”

I’ve addressed this issue before regarding what it takes to be willing to call oneself  “a writer.”  But, interestingly enough, I still stumble through a decent amount of hemming and hawing when I’m asked the ‘what do you do’ question.  My response tends to go something like this:

     “What do I do?  That’s a good question.  ‘What don’t I do’ might be even more appropriate. 
     “I’m a stay-at-home-mom, mostly.  But I also write.  And I teach childbirth preparation classes.  I mean I run my own private childbirth education program.  And I do a lot of community volunteer and education stuff.  I write about pregnancy and motherhood and childrearing.  I’m kind of a Jack Janet of All Trades.”

God have mercy.

Poorly-defined descriptions aside, I do find that the further I delve into creating my professional life, the more certain parts of it resonate with me.  At the end of the day, whether it’s through print form, blog form or a public speaking format, I like to encourage people to think…outside their own self-made proverbial box, that is.

I suppose it’s fair to say, I enjoy commanding a room.  Not all together different from the satisfaction a surgeon might experience at maintaining responsibility for the goings in within the operating suite, I like crafting group dialog and directing a large group journey into new consideration.

While teaching my Lamaze classes, I love the moment when I offer a tidbit of advice or information and I witness neurons forming new connections.  You know the look:  a person across the room from you, corners of the mouth turned down, head cocked to the side just-so, eyebrows raised and in coordination with a contemplative nod and verbal, “mmm.”  Teaching childbirth classes and delivering keynote speaking addresses on topics like “Modern Day Motherhood” and “Challenges of Parenting in the First Year,” are all about the same thing, really:  opening peoples’ eyes and giving them permission to feel what they really feel.

This type of work certainly isn’t all altruistic.  There are elements of teaching, writing and speaking which I perform simply for my own benefit:  interacting with other adults after a day spent looking after young children; building my name as a community resource and business person; further honing my writing skills in gradual pursuit of the golden pie in the sky known as “making it.” 

And, there’s also the education part of things.  I am constantly learning from the people with whom I interact and teach.  I learn from their questions, life situations and choices made.  I learn each time a former student of mine calls with the good news of their baby’s birth–and the ensuing details of what transpired during the course of labor and delivery.  I learn about people’s religions and career challenges, marital strife and overt joys. 

Certainly, tidbits of my work and life experiences may find their way into my writing–be it in novel or nonfiction form.  But it is the inspiration of the human condition that will more likely inform my writing, my teaching and speaking.  What more could you ask for in a job?

Ever get tired of seeing how the media, advertisers and Hollywood misuses and abuses the female image for furthering their own agendas?  Well, check out the details for the NOW Foundation’s 2010 Love Your Body campaign poster contest.  Contest winner receives $600 and the honor of having their poster design distributed to girls and women around the world through various channels.

When perusing the site, don’t forget to check out the section on magazine ads deemed “Offensive to Women” complete with descriptions/captions.  Do these people really have heads on their shoulders?

And finally…check out this video:

Ok, so the following video calls for an entirely different sort of change than that referenced in my last post.  But, while I was searching You Tube for David Bowie’s Changes, I came across this video.  If you haven’t seen it by now, you obviously haven’t been spending much time perusing the techniverse of social media.  In short: Playing For Change, the group responsible for the production of the internationally performed and compiled version of the classic, Stand By Me, is working to promote global peace through musical efforts.  How cool is that?

This one’s for you, Dad…

For more on Playing For Change, go here.

I used to think I was pretty good at handling changes…welcoming of new adventures…a seeker of the unfamiliar.  But, in four short months, my world will turn upside down and I seem to be struggling with that fact. 

Yes, I grew up outside of Seattle, went to school in Tacoma and lived in Pittsburgh for five years.  But the past six+ years of living in Montana has allowed me to grow accustomed to a slower-paced life (despite the hardship of winters that last darned-near forever).  So when our family relocates to the San Francisco Bay area at the end of the year, I will have some adjusting to do.  Not only for me, but for the sake of our kids.

Add to a BIG move…I will return to school within the next year, studying Women’s Studies and potentially Anthropology–researching present-day women during pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood.  I will use these studies to further my writing and public speaking career.  I will work my ass off to accomplish this goal.

‘Cause here’s the thing: amidst the preparations for a big family move, applications to graduate school, and transitioning my little childbirth education business–I’m still a mom.  I still have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to make, laundry to tend to and errands to run.

Our daughter started first grade yesterday, so the school year busy-busy routine is back upon us.  Our boys will start their preschool year next week.  Dance class begins soon after that, along with church kids’ choir.

So, in tandem with packing school lunches and carting kids all over town (tarnation?) I will be packing boxes, calling moving companies, searching California rental properties and preparing our own home for the open market.

Anyone want to rent or buy a house?

And now, in honor of my family’s up-coming changes…a little blast from the past…

Ah, the wonders of social media!  If you haven’t gotten yourself onto Facebook, or linked in through Linked In, you’re well behind the times, ma’am.

I have to admit: I was fairly skeptical about the whole social networking craze when my oh-so techy husband (I say this with affection and admiration) started prompting me to create accounts on Facebook, Twitter, Linked In and more.  In the interest of promoting myself as a writer, I finally relinquished.

While I have had some decent runs at posting tweets and submitting “What’s on your mind” tidbits… I wouldn’t call myself “addicted” like so many I know.

Still, I have had the chance to reconnect with some old, beloved friends, and to stay connected with new friends and colleagues.  My favorite social media moment thus far?  It happened this morning at 4:35am when I (again) couldn’t sleep:  I remembered a song shared between two teenage friends.

Picture it:  Junior high school drama class.  Two teen girls passing the time before the bell rings hailing another passing period.  A friend of mine, a new friend at the time (she’d just moved from Nebraska to suburban Seattle) was an AMAZING singer, even at the ripe old age of fifteen.  For some reason (was it in a movie score?  Had a re-worked version been popularized on modern radio airwaves?) Elvis Presley’s Falling in Love With You had become a mutually favorite song between us.  At my completely puritanical request, this friend would sing the song to me over and over again–lulling me into the understand of how enriching love, friendship and music could be.  This moment reenacted itself for several months, and then faded into the memory bank as teenage life rolled on.

Last month, via the wonders of Facebook, this friendship, this memory, this song reemerged from the catacombs of my mind.  For me, this song is about loving relationships shared by friends.  It is about nurturing and submission to a higher purpose:  communion with others through true friendship and trust.

That friend of mine?  She has gone on to become a professional musician and a damned good one.  She also makes documentary films and is an expert on folklore.  I wouldn’t have known these things, had it not been for social media.  Hhhmmm…I guess it can play a valuable role, after all.

Okay folks, as promised, here’s a little more for you on the Tin House Summer Writer’s Workshop ~ namely, my favorite lines, quotes and anecdotes (written in Workshop schedule chronological order only–no favoritism is represented here).

                                              ******************************

*  ”The lover is the writer, the reader is the beloved.” – Brenda Shaughnessy, poet
* ‘The essence of the person lies mystically in the name.’ – roughly quoted from B.S.
*  ”If you are afraid of something or running away from something–that’s what you should be writing about” – B.S.

* Establish your writerly self as a person with “good taste” that the reader will want to follow/partake of.  The reader is trying to improve him/herself by their association with the authors they read.  Don’t let your readers down. – taken from workshop discussion with Walter Kirn

* “I like to think about prose as an athletic event.” – W.K. re: choosing which style of prose you’re most talented in, and “competing” in that style.

* Manuscripts mustbe as polished as possible before submitting to literary agents or editors–this represents you taking yourself seriously as a writer.  (Taken from panel discussion with Denise Shannon, Bonnie Nadell, Besty Lerner and Julie Barer)

*”Obsession fills our spiritual need.” – Steve Almond

* There are moments in your life that snag your attention.  Don’t over analyze why  you can’t let go of those moments.  Just honor your attention toward/obsession with those moments and write about them. (take from lecture: Obsession A New Musk by Steve Almond

*”How does the thin-skinned writer become a thick-skinned author?” – Literary Agent, Betsy Lerner in her lecture on Query Letters to Agents

* “Endings are just beginnings returned in new form.” – Walter Kirn

* “Foreshadowing is the promise the reader will be told a story.” – W.K.

* “Be true to your trance.” – W.K. discussing the “zone we, as writers do and must get into for effective writing.

* “Editing is a cost-benefit analysis.” – Keith Lee Morris

* “Beginnings are shadows that are cast across the entire story.” – Walter Kirn

* “A beginning is an act of bravado.” – W.K.

* “The beginning has to do more than anything else in the book…accept, maybe, the end.” – W.K.

* If dialog feels like it’s coming out poorly onto the page, perhaps it’s because you don’t know your characters well enough. (take from lecture by Keith Lee Morris on writing dialog.

*”Memoir rightly belongs to the imaginative world because it is a product of memory–it becomes a creation of the mind.” – David Shields

* “Great art is an analysis of mixed feelings.’ – D.S.

* The only thing worse than boredom is fear of boredom.  Omission is a form of creation.” – D.S.

* Good characters are not “built,” they are “revealed.” – from Bret Anthony Johnston’s lecture on Writing Exercises – Character.

* The fewer the characters…the easier the story becomes to write.  A narrative is like climbing a steep mountain while wearing a backpack…each additional character adds to the weight of the pack.  (taken from above-referenced lecture by B.A.J.)

* “Never ask a reader to do more work than you [the author] are willing to do.” – B.A.J.

* Johnston’s assessment of good vs. bad characters:
       Good characters are 51% good and 49% bad.  Bad characters are 51% bad and 49% good.

* The writer’s job, according to B.A.J.: “Make the reader want something and then make them wait for it [via narrative arc obstacles, etc.]“

                             *******************************************

A room once occupied: now empty.
A house once full: vacant.
Water dries.
Soap suds pop.  Bubbles drain.
People leave.
                                                   ~ KMH

From discomfort comes ill-ease.
From ill-ease: dis-ease.
Dis-ease precedes disease
and from that: personal growth.
Thus is the experience of communcal bathing.
                                                                                  ~ KMH

Thank you Tin House!!!

Okay, so now that I’ve returned to the blogosphere, I really owe it to the organizer’s of this year’s Tin House Summer Writer’s Workshop to recap, from my little ol’ perspective, of what it was like to rub elbows with some of the finest, present-day, American literary writers.

Yes, aside from visiting the Fountain of Youth and returning to one’s college days of commune-like dormitories and unabashed dope smoking, Tin House really is all about the writing…and partying…and writing…and did I mention…?

To gain the privilege of attending Tin House’s Writer’s Conference, one must first submit a writing sample. Depending on your genre (notice my foul use of the word “genre” here.  The Tin House folks and adjunct faculty generally snub anything categorized by “genre.”  This is not the conference for romance novelists, mystery or thriller writers.  This is hard-core literary instruction for literary writing.  So what is literary? It is anything deeper, more obtuse, wordier, character-driven, and philosophical than what you’ll find in a Dan Brown or James Patterson novel.  Not that those books aren’t wonderfully captivating and well-written.  But literary writing certainly serves a different–perhaps more discerning audience.  It’s not exactly mainstream, folks.

So, anyway, you must submit a piece of writing you’ve been working on to the Tin House crew prior to acceptance.  One can submit a work of long fiction, short fiction, creative nonfiction, memoir or poetry.  Then the Tin House staff gets to review your work and decide whether or not you can cut the mustard with the rest of the accepted attendees…and hopefully send you an acceptance letter.

Of course, many of us were wondering if the “acceptance” process was a bit of a farce.  None of the folks I spoke with had heard of anyone actually being denied acceptance to the workshop…so perhaps the submission-acceptance thing is a clout builder.  And if so–so what?  The conference still totally rocks.

Over the course of seven days, Tin House offered 22 lectures (almost none of which were scheduled concurrently, meaning, as a workshop goer, you had all the reason and no excuse to not learn a hell of a lot about writing).  Some of  my favorite lectures were:

-Obsession, A New Musk (Steve Almond)
-The Agent Game (a panel discussion with literary agents Denise Shannon, Bonnie Nadell, Julie Barer and Betsy Lerner)
-Query Letters to Agents (Betsy Lerner)
-Dialogue (Keith Lee Morris)
Character & Plot (Bret Anthony Johnston)

My second time seeing Steve Almond lecture at a conference, I am even more convinced he is a truly brilliant man set in the body and consciousness of a stand-up comedian.  Somehow, Almond captures an audience by the end of his first spoken sentence and gains momentum until the audience is flogging him with applause at the end of his talk.

Almond suggested that upon picking up a book, the reader begins with a basic question:  what will I care about over the course of reading this book and what do I think the writer cared about while writing this book?  Translation: what obsession does the reader get to hang onto over the course of two-hundred-some pages.  In essence, after deciding what the prevailing obsession throughout the book will be (getting the girl to love the guy, vindicating a loved-one’s death, winning the national hot dog eating contest, etc.) frame obsession into every scene, story character (each character can have his/her own obsession).

Aside from the largely fantastic lectures (yes, there were a few that were not entirely fantastic) Tin House lined up eighteen author readings…not to mention the readings and discourse conducted at the Tin House Tenth Anniversary Celebration held in Portland’s downtown Newmark Theater.

Aside from the above-mentioned goings on, each participant who opted into small group workshops met for 2 1/2 hours each morning with their esteemed leader and eleven other participants for hard-core critique of each others work.  My group leader was Walter Kirn, writer for GQ, New York Times Magazine, Vogue and Esquire, reviewer for the New York Times Book Review, and  author of several novels, along with his recently released memoir Lost in the Meritocracy.

Aside from a few organizational and personal hiccups (one guy stormed out of our workshop on Day One because he felt he wasn’t receiving an adequate critique on his work) we had extraordinarily in-depth discussions on each person manuscript submission–and on various writing techniques in general.  Each person took their turn going on the hot seat for over an hour…listenting to discussion about and, when invited, commenting  on their manuscript (the twenty or so pages submitted to the group, anyway).  I left my small group experience with a spinning head, and overwhelmed psyche, and an idea of where to take my fiction manuscript next.

As you can see, the Tin House Summer Writer’s Workshop is an intense experience.  It’s well worth the $1500 (this includes all workshop activities, a meeting with a literary agent or Tin House Literary Magazine editor, housing and food for the entire week) and equally deserving of a following week of exhaustion and navel gazing.

If you’ve happened upon this blog post in your own search for a writer’s conference to attend in the future I can tell you I’d highly recommend this one.

I know, I know:  it’s been darned near a month since my last entry.  I’ve been silent.  Incognito.  Incommunicado.  A blogosphere ghost.  But, I feel secure claiming that “it’s all been for good reason.”

In the past month I have:

- driven 1,400+ miles round trip to and from Portland, OR for the esteemed Tin House Writer’s Workshop at Reed College (more on Tin House later).
- Researched preschools for our two boys
- Hauled our kids around to doctor and therapy appointments
-cleaned out our entire basement, craft room and the Black Hole of a space otherwise called Our Daughter’s Bedroom where she regularly squirrels away every conceivable (and inconceivable) household item in bags, boxes, desk drawers and the depths of her closet floor.
-Attended a family reunion in honor of a recently deceased family member
-Researched the next HUGE phase of my adult life.

So, in short, I’ve been a little busy.

Now, with summer break winding down and the start of school looming, I’m looking forward to that which is soon to come in fall schedules and school commitments, all the while relishing the best time of year to live in Montana.  I anticipate having three half days a week this coming school year, during which I can totally and entirely devote to writing/career stuff…perahps alleviating a few of the late nights and long Saturday morning coffee shop stints that have fueled my writing over the past three years.

And you, dear reader?  What will you be doing to close out the summer and prepare for fall?

As a childbirth educator, I frequently receive letters, pamphlets, postcards and, yes, the occasional free sample of products targeted toward the expectant and new mother.  One particularly popular category of said products includes those revolving around breastfeeding.

As breastfeeding (thankfully) continues to re-gain momentum in our culture, so do the products which are developed for and marketed to breastfeeding mothers.

But what about these products?  Which ones are necessary?  Which ones are helpful?  A luxury?  Superfluous?  Unnecessary?  Ultimately unhelpful to the breastfeeding process?

As is with life in general, the answers to the above questions represent a slippery slope–the grade of that slope largely dependent upon the dynamics going on between each mother-baby duo.

Here is a non-exhaustive list of the types of breastfeeding-related products out there:

clothing:
-nursing bras, shirts, tank tops, gowns, pajamas, etc.
over-clothing accouterments meant to cover up the nursing mom and baby:
- Hooter Hiders, Baby Bond drapes, screens, slings, wraps, cloths, blankets, etc.
sore nipple treatment products:
- ointments, creams, gel pads, nipple shields and shells
leaking breasts:
- breast pads, nipple shells/covers
breastfeeding aids:
- nipple shields, nipple shells, tube feeding systems, syringes, cups,
breast pumps:
-one- and two-flanged, manual, automatic, hospital grade, hands-free pumps…

With all this equipment out there, how does a woman choose which of these items is important to have on hand upon baby’s arrival, and which products represent little more than a marketing ploy aimed at capturing the dollars of vulnerable, new parents?  Which items ultimately have an influence on how we collectively view breastfeeding in our culture, which ones truly support the breastfeeding process, and which ones complicate it?

As documented and/or suggested in several recent studies (one being Kathleen Buckley’s A Double-Edged Sword:  Lactation Consultants’ Perceptions of the Impact of Breast Pumps on the Practice of Breastfeeding, as appeared in the Spring 2009 issue of The Journal of Perinatal Education a large percentage of American women view breast pumps as a necessary item on the to-get list prior to baby’s arrival.  The implicated assumption being: in order to achieve breastfeeding success, one must employ the use of a mechanical pump at some point, rather than encouraging the baby to perform the sole job of drawing milk from the breast on his or her own.

Of course, complicating this issue is the higher and higher percentage of women returning to work within a month or two of their baby’s births.  Whether by choice or by lack of adequate maternity leave, more women are trying to keep up with the practice of breastfeeding they so desire, all the while tending to their uncompromising duties at work (“work,” in this case, meaning financially reimbursed duties outside the home).

But here’s a seemingly little known secret:  in most cases, whether returning to work or not, long-term breastfeeding success usually depends on less accouterments than more.  And early introduction of tools like breast pumps (before, say, three weeks postpartum) and nipple shields?  They actually decrease a woman’s likelihood of achieving long term breast feeding.  (By long term, I mean, say, longer than a few months.)

Breast pumps, specifically, have some potential drawbacks:
Unless a woman has an extraordinarily abundant milk letdown reflex, it is difficult to express a whole heck of a lot of milk via a breast pump.  Believe me.  I know.  I struggled for months at trying to get a breast pump to work for me, just to build up that little reserve of breast milk in the freezer for the occasional date night out or, way back when, a shift at work that kept me away from the baby beyond nursing time.

And because breastfeeding is a supply and demand system, the more you rely on the pump to generate milk for your baby, the less milk is being drawn from the breast.  Less milk “demand” equals less milk production.  Within a relatively short period of time (the body responds to a change in the supply-demand system within 24-48 hours) the woman begins to notice a decline in her milk supply.  Add to that, the visual image of how much milk is showing up in the bottle after any one pumping session (again, much less milk will come out into the bottle via the pump than would otherwise end up in the baby’s tummy via baby-to-breast feeding) and the woman starts to doubt her ability to feed her child.

Can breast pumps save the nursing trajectory for some moms and babies?  Sure.  There are a variety of scenarios in which breast pumps can undoubtedly be useful and helpful.  But that degree of assistance only goes as far as the knowledge of how to keep a woman’s milk supply up while also relying on the breast pump (basically, by adding in some extra stimulation of the breasts–a couple extra nursing sessions with the baby, or extra pumping sessions beyond the frequency of the baby’s normal nursing pattern).

And how about other items like nipple shields, an increasingly popular tool distributed by more and more lactation consultants?

Are these tools the magic bullet they are so often made out to be?  Or is this a case of mistaken identity or, worse yet, blind acceptance of half truths fed to us by medical supply company salespeople working on commission?   In many cases, are products like nipple shields a divergence away from addressing, and treating, whatever the true problem is in a challenged breastfeeding situation?  Here is an excellent article that addresses these questions.

Whether it be in the realm of pregnancy, labor and delivery or breastfeeding, I see us as a general population more and more often taking the band-aid approach versus addressing issues, problems and concerns head-on and dealing with them proactively, succinctly and efficiently.  Going back to the nipple shield example:  if a baby and mother are having difficulty with breastfeeding due to a poor latch (the most common cause of breastfeeding woes) it’s easy to hand over a nipple shield which, when used carelessly, encourages the baby to latch on to the teat of the shield only and draw milk via isolated suction rather than suction plus significant jaw and tongue motion.  (watch this video clip and this for the proper manner in which a baby ought to latch on to the breast)

While nipple shields can temporarily help women with the most severe cases of inverted nipples:

or flat nipples:

there is not a strong indication for the frequent or regular use of nipple shields in most other situations.  The risks, however, are plentiful, as described in the article referenced above.

Of less severity, are some of the other products mentioned:  special nursing clothes, drapes, etc. meant to hide mom and baby as much as possible from public view while breastfeeding.  Here, I realize, I’m opening up an enormous can of worms but…what the heck, the can is already open, right?

How many folks, when preparing to purchase one of the dozen different nursing cover-ups, stops to think about why they feel compelled to add one of these things to their collection of baby stuff?  If it’s purely a matter of mother’s modesty than, have at it.  But if it’s a concern over what other people think about the act of a woman feeding her child, well…couldn’t one argue that the mass production and marketing of breastfeeding cover-ups onl furthers our culture’s still often distorted and prudishness views regarding breastfeeding?

So, if you’ve made it to the end of this post, you’re likely looking for a conclusion (or a couple Ibuprofen, or a stiff drink, or…an enormous sock to cram in my proverbial mouth).  My conclusion would be this:  think carefully about the products you buy in regards to feeding your child.  Think even more carefully about the products you recommend to an expectant, new and/or nursing mother.  Consider who will ultimately win at the end of that purchase:  The mother?  The baby?  The company who has happily sold another well-marketed product?