dare to dream

Miranda Johnson: My Guinea Pig Scout

The following was dictated to me by my daughter Miranda.

I got a guinea pig and I named him Scout.

Isn't he cute?

I got a guinea pig because I can't get a dog (yet) because my mom's allergic and our house is too small.

Scout has two little dots on his head.  I call those merit badges.  And he has a little white mark on his neck that I call a merit badge sash.

Scout makes the cutest little squeaking sound; it sounds like he is so content. 

I got the idea to get a guinea pig when I saw the Zeke and Luther episode about a mouse named Lucky and when my mom and I read Emmy and the Incredible Shrinking Rat; the Chipman's recommended it to us. 

Emmy could understand the rats because one rat bit her.  Scout bit me already -- but I can't yet understand what he's saying.  All I hear is squeaking.  Wouldn't that be neat if I could talk to Scout?

In fact, if I could have a superpower, I would either turn into animals and/or I would talk to them.  If I could talk to Scout, I would ask him:

1)  What's your real name?  (Wouldn't it be cool if he said Scout?)
2)  How old are you?  (Because baby guinea pig doesn't really describe how old he is... I don't know the difference between guinea pig years and human years.)
3)  How do you like you new name?
4) Why do you like tunneling in my blanket?
5)  Do you like carrots or apples better?

***

Is there something that your children really, really want but you have to say no to?  I am allergic to dogs -- and yet Miranda so very much wants one.   We found a 'yes' in a guinea pig.   We have to say 'no' so much, can we find more yes-es?

Even in dictating this to me, it validates her, her ideas, especially because I haven't edited her thought process.   It's important that our girls feel their ideas and thought process can stand on their own.

I believe that Miranda likes to guest blog, in part, because I like to blog.  As you are dreaming, can you bring your children along?

Would your daughter or one of the young girls that you know like to guest blog? 

My one stipulation is that she asks me herself; and then we'll be off. 

Chrysula Winegar: Oh My Goodness, I Left My Voice on the Bus

Chrysula Winegar is a graduate of the University of London, UK, with a Masters in Organizational Behavior focused on the relationship between organizations (work) and families.  Her undergraduate degree was a Bachelors of Economics, from the University of Queensland, in her hometown of Brisbane, Australia. In late 2004, she left the Estee Lauder Companies, where she was International Marketing Director with the Aveda Corporation for 5 years, to be a full-time mother -- and take over what was formerly her husband Warren Winegar's art consultancy business.  Chrysula is the mother of two irascible and brilliant daughters and two witty and zen sons who make all the rest of the things she has done with her life look like she was slacking.

***

I hunger to be understood.  I think it is a very human desire, perhaps even need.  Once the food, shelter, clothing and love requirements have been met, it’s pretty much up there for me.   I define this in the context of dialogue: listening, receiving, speaking – an interaction of understanding and being understood.

Perhaps one of the reasons I struggle in my mothering is that my children are too young to give thought as to who I am. They (there are four of them, from 8 months to almost seven yrs) have little awareness of anyone but themselves. It is a times and seasons thing.  I know that.  It does not make it any easier.

Courtesy:  Andi Pitcher  

I wanted to stay home full-time with my children.  My mother sometimes was not able to and sometimes did not want to: both are reasons I respect.  My husband and I discussed it at length.  He was home for a time with our eldest two children whilst growing his business and I took on the role of primary bread-winner.  For some families it works.  It did not for us.

It's not that I don't enjoy corporate life.  I do.  And I am good at it.  However, particularly in the USA, I find it a limiting framework when you want to do anything out of the ordinary: have a family; extensively travel; care for a parent; dip in and out of the workforce for any old reason just to experience life.  There is a rigidness, both culturally and legislatively, that makes truly flexible work-life balance in corporate settings difficult in this country.  In fact, the day after I was offered my dream job (in another city) I resigned.

Most days, being at home is enough.  I have amazing children. I know you do too.  Or your nieces and nephews or friends’ children are incredible. I was never this smart at these ages.  Never this spiritually connected.   Certainly never this interesting.  I love being my children's mother.  A few years into being at home full-time however, I realized something.  I did not feel heard. 

Source:  Flickr

Partnering with my husband for eight years in his private art consultancy and now running that business fully on my own has helped me feel heard.  I love beautiful things and I love sharing them with others.  Art has the capacity to speak without language, to fill voids of which we are not aware.  I am privileged to have access to so much visual conversation. But, it's behavior, people, words that make me feel alive -- that haven't somehow left my voice, disembodied, on a bus aimlessly trolling the streets of New York.

A few years ago I had a letter to the editor published in the New York Times.  It was an incredible moment.  In just a few sentences, I was able to express things that had been on my mind for over a year.  The act of publishing connected me to thousands of others thinking the same thoughts; and even better, to thousands more to whom those thoughts had not occurred.  I felt like I had begun a conversation with New York.

From my early twenties, I have been intrigued by the relationship between organizations and families.   There is a consultancy business in the works eventually and a PhD thesis being constructed in my mind.  I recently realized though, that I do not need the fully-fledged second business and the prefix Dr. just yet.  What I need is to be part of the conversation.  What I hunger for is to participate, even at the fringes, in the topics I feel passionate about.  In Whitney Johnson’s words, “no major commitment of time or capital, but on the periphery -- disruptive.”  Love that.  In other words, putting myself ‘out there’.

Blogging and social networking allow me to do just that.  I started a blog titled Work. Life. Balance.  On my blog, I can give free reign to the thoughts that have been bubbling away for years.  On Twitter I can participate by sound bite.  And get access to all the data and discussion I need.  I can read/listen as much or as little as my other responsibilities allow.  These tools provide that sense of engagement, of participation, of dialogue - especially when both friends and strangers give back through their often profound and intimate comments.  I am part of a rich conversation.  I am listening, plugged in to the research, the debate, the buzz. And I have things to say.  Oh boy, do I ever. 

In the meantime, my older two children are becoming more interesting.  It is part of the development curve.  Their awareness of the thoughts of others is beginning to develop.  As they expand their capacity for social interaction, I am able to engage with them on richer levels.  We all benefit.  I loved them as babies and toddlers and pre-schoolers.   When we are not fighting (!), I truly adore them as they learn and grow through these next stages.   As I have listened and tried to understand their emerging voices, their attempts to listen and understand me, enable my own voice.   The first inklings of their wanting to understand me are a gift:  a recognition that we are starting to develop real two-way relationships.  

And, in the convergence of reading, writing, speaking, listening, I am finding a flow of authenticity and personal truth.  My family life and professional interests are merging.  As they integrate, I feel heard.

I have my voice back.

***

Have you left your voice on the bus?  Are you ready to get it back?

Have you ever considered that voice is much more than speaking, but listening, responding, speaking, being heard as well -- a conversation?

Chrysula speaks of blogging and twittering as a means of finding her voice.  Several years ago I went to a BlogHer conference, and came home and wrote What If?  So many women discovering their voice.  It was compelling. 

A disruptive innovation is an innovation that takes root at the low-end of a market or where there is no market, and therefore little competition.  That is the beauty of blogging/twittering.  Low cost.  No major commitment of capital or time -- affording us the luxury of patiently dis-covering our voice.

Would you like to join Chrysula's conversation?  Any people you'd suggest she converse with?

Work. Life. Balance.

Speak.
Listen.
Voice.

Men's Health: What Women Can Teach Men About Real Strength

A few months ago Richard Conniff interviewed me for an article in Men's Health Magazine titled What Women Can Teach Men About Real Strength:  Workplace Lessons from Women.  

Conniff writes, "In the modern workplace, the best way for a man to succeed might actually be to suppress his caveman and try to think like a woman instead.  It's not about acting like a woman. People respond badly to what psychologists call "gender rule violations." Nor is anyone suggesting that women always make ideal employees. They can be just as stupid as men can be.

Source:  istockphoto

But the case for learning a few basic skills from the so-called weaker sex is simple: Women are succeeding in a time when men generally aren't. Four out of five jobs lost in the current recession belonged to men. (It's been dubbed the "he-cession.") Male-dominated construction and manufacturing sectors are taking the hardest hits."

I'd read the whole article, but if you'd like to go to where I'm quoted, you can click on the below links.

• Overview
• Don't Think Just Inside the Company
• It's Not Just About the Money

There were so many interesting points.  What caught your attention?  As you share your thoughts, I'll talk back more than usual.  Not in the saucy sort of way I did to my mother as a teenager, but politely -- a civil discourse or dialogue. This could be fun!

In thinking about what men can learn from women, what can women learn from men?  Specifically, if we revisit the Psyche Myth, and take a look at the helpers (ants, eagle, etc) as skills that men in our lives may have already mastered, what can we learn from our husbands, sons, brothers, colleagues?

The Beauty of Blindness to the Future

O Blindness to the future kindly given that each may fill the circle marked by Heaven.  Abigail Adams

When my son David was born, I longed to know what he was meant to do in life.  I reasoned that, if I knew, I could guide and direct him, making sure he gets 'what he was meant to do' done.

I still wish I knew some days...

Photo of David, courtesy LaNola Kathleen Stone

But most days, I'm grateful to be blind to the future.  I can then focus on David's journey, trusting that he will 'fill his circle marked by Heaven'...

...And simply be happy he was born.
And that I get to be his mother.

This post is dedicated to my son David on his 13th birthday.

Julie and Julia

Many of the critics just don't get this film. 

A number of women share my view:  the $10 we paid was worth it and then some. 

Dollar #1:  Meryl Streep.  Perhaps because it's my birthday this month, I'm feeling like I need to be a grown-up woman -- a real grown-up -- I'm not quite sure how to do this. Meryl Streep seems to.

Dollar #2:  Julia Child was in her 30s when she started culinary school.  In her 40s when she became a cooking instructor. In her 50s when Mastering the Art of French Cooking was published.  Sometimes our dreams take awhile to play out. Repeat after me. Mid 50's -- 20 years.

Dollar #3:  Her dream was right there.  So close she couldn't see it. Maybe even already a part of her.  Hat-making?  Playing bridge?  Nope.  Eat sumptuous food?  Experienced writer?  Organize voluminous amounts of material?  Pay dirt.  Many pieces of our dream are already at our fingertips just waiting for us to fit them together.

Dollar #4:  Julia Child walking into a class of all men who didn't want her there.  "I will slice onions better than any of you."  So much steel.  "I will not cry.  No sir.  But maybe you will."

Dollar #5:  Judith Jones.  We all need a Judith Jones.  The person who looks for the 'yes' rather than the 'no'.  Who invests in us, who is a see-er of our magnificence.

Dollar #6:  Julie Powell was stuck.  Committing to document her experiences cooking the 524 recipes in Child's cookbook was a means of becoming unstuck.  Something she liked to do.  Concrete long-term goal.  Daily checklist.  Clear timeline.  A winning recipe for 'unstuckness'.  And achieving a dream.  

Dollar #7:  Each of us has fears.  Boiling a lobster.  Eviscerating a duck.  Not a big deal to me, but they were to Julie.  We need to respect one another's dragons.  Then help slay them. 

Dollar #8:  Watching Julie and Eric make a space for her dream.  Eric was pursuing his dream and he encouraged Julie to pursue hers.  As her dream took flight, she was not as available as she had been creating conflict.  There's give and take, rough and tumble, as spouses grow and develop, learning to saying 'yes' to the relationship, even as we say 'yes' to our dreams.

Dollar #9:  When parents aren't as supportive as we need and deserve, if we are going to become our best selves we need to find people who will support us -- biographies and literature can do this for us by proxy remarkably well.  In studying Julia Child, Julie came to admire her, to be connected to her. 'Don't be afraid' came to mean so much more than advice about disemboweling a duck.  We all need an encouraging voice.  Julie found it in Julia Child.

Dollar #10:  Julia never met Julia Child, nor Judith Jones.  Neither is her accomplishment the stuff of myth.  But in undertaking the Julia/Julia project she re-discovered her self and made meaning of her life.  In the process, she helped me make meaning of mine.

Did you like Julie/Julia?  Do you have a Dollar #11?

Why?  Why not?

For another sampling of why critics don't get it, click on Ode to Julie and Julia.

P.S.  Thank you to Becka for her shout-out.   I am honored; I hope each of you guest-bloggers are as well.

Debra Bingham: Taking Birth Back

Debra Bingham, DrPH, RN, is the Executive Director of the California Maternal Quality Care Collaborative (www.cmqcc.org) at Stanford University School of Medicine. CMQCC is a state-wide California initiative to support physicians and nurses to improve maternity care.  She was formerly the director of Maternal Child Health Nursing at two hospitals in New York City.  Throughout her career, Debra worked to support safe and healthy births for both mothers and infants.  She is the mother/stepmother of 4 children, grandmother of 7.

***
I am a nurse with over 30 years of high-risk perinatal experience.  I became a high-risk perinatal nurse because I find it an honor to support families through the miracle of bringing new life into the world.  I never tire of learning and discovering as much as I can about the 'simplexity' of such a universal yet personal life-transforming event. 

 

Source:  istockphoto

Lately there are many troubling trends.  Rates of maternal deaths and maternal childbirth-related injuries are rising in the United States.  In fact, we have not seen maternal mortality rates this high since the early 1970’s.  In addition, in 2007 the United States was ranked 41st among developed countries for maternal mortality rates.  These negative trends and worsening outcomes do not make sense in a country with so many resources.  (Click on this link to hear Debra elaborate).  The key questions behind this statistics are:

Why has maternity care become less mother and newborn-centric, and more hospital, nurse and physician- centric?

Why is maternity care costing so much and yet bringing about such poor outcomes?

Last night when I vegged out and watched Father of the Bride, Part II the movie helped me see the answers to the questions more clearly.  It stars Steve Martin as the father and husband – so you know that the movie is meant to be fun and over the top.   However, in watching Hollywood's caricature of both mother and daughter going through a pregnancy and giving birth together reminded me how ingrained certain cultural rituals around childbirth have become.

 

This movie and most every sitcom or movie in the general cultural landscape unquestioningly portrays what are common, but often not scientifically based maternity practices.  For example, (and this is just one of many possible examples), it is now common for a laboring woman to expect to be in bed tethered to an electronic fetal monitor when in labor. 

While there is no evidence to suggest that constant fetal monitoring improves the health of the baby, there is a negative consequence to women being in a bed -- a seemingly innocuous change in how women had previously given birth for centuries.  Being in bed has been shown to slow labor down, lead to more pain in labor, and to more dysfunctional labors – all of which cause more harm to both unborn babies and their mothers and increase the pain of labor. (For more information, I recommend Evidence-Based Maternity Care.)

Cultural norms affect beliefs and expectations.  Beliefs and expectations affect cultural norms.  It is a difficult cycle to alter.  You have probably heard of the placebo effect, where someone thinks they are getting medicine, but they are not, but they get better anyway.  There is also a nocebo effect that is not as commonly discussed.  The nocebo effect is how negative expectations can also affect our physiologic responses by making us sicker.  Indeed, it is a known fact that beliefs and expectations affect the cellular function of our bodies, our very biology.  (see The Biology of Belief by Dr. Bruce Lipton for further reading.)

What does this have to do with maternity care?

Since beliefs affect physiologic functions, how women and men discuss the process of pregnancy and birth can have a negative or positive effect on the women that are involved in the discussion.  Our words are powerful and either reinforce or undermine the power of women and their bodies.  The next time you talk about pregnancy or birth, think about how your basic assumptions affect your discourse. 

1. Does your discourse include stories about the power of women?
2. Or do the stories shift the locus of control away from women and their bodies to other authority figures such as nurses, physicians, or machines?
3. Does your discourse assume that women are physiologically capable of giving birth and nourishing their own children?
4. Or does your discourse assume that women’s bodies are fundamentally flawed and in need of medical attention and intervention? 

In order for women to fully grasp the power of our bodies, we will need to become better informed.  Great options for finding out more information are on the Lamaze International website.  In particular, there is a blog led by my colleague, Amy Romano, CNM.  There are also pregnancy emails that send weekly empowering messages to pregnant women and there are six evidence-based steps to having a healthy and safe birth. 

There are also films that provide a contrast to commonly seen Hollywood images of childbearing and are helpful steps in moving us toward more meaningful discourse about maternity care practices in the U.S.  I recommend them, not as depicting the ultimate solution to improving maternity care, but to provide another point of view:

1) A documentary film by Ricki Lake entitled the Business of Being Born (you can see a short clip here);

Some of the action in the movie takes place at Roosevelt Hospital where I was the Director of Maternity Care Nursing.  I either supervised or was a colleague with the clinicians interviewed or shown in this movie at this hospital.  I also worked closely with Cara, the midwife in Ricki Lake's movie, before she became a midwife.

2) A movie by a colleague of mine, Debra Pascali-Bonaro entitled Orgasmic Birth.  Debra's movie title is a bit provocative, but if you go to her link and hear her speak about her movie you will learn more about why she chose the title she did.  It is worth checking out.

Both movies raise important issues about how maternity care is practiced in the United States and explore these issues in different, interesting, and provocative ways. 

What are your thoughts?

How do we shift the public discourse around maternity care?

***

It would be fascinating to catalog stories around the birth of our children, or hear our mothers' tell of stories around our own birth.   Would they illustrate the power of women?  Or shift the  locus of control away from us or our mothers?

Author Diane Setterfield wrote "All children mythologize their birth.  It is a universal trait.  You want to know someone?  Heart, mind and soul?  Ask [her] to tell you about when she was born".  What is the story around your birth?  Your children's birth?   

And our dreams -- do they illustrate our power?  Or do we give away all our dreams -- and their fulfillment to others, whether husbands, children, colleagues?

What of policy shifts?  How would you move the conversation forward?

Strawberries, sunshine and sweetness

Yesterday I bought freshly-picked strawberries at the Farmer's Market in Boston's City Hall Plaza.

Because my husband put himself through college by working summers on Johnson's Berry Farm, his parents' pick-your-own strawberry farm in Maryland, and being quite certain that his back-breaking manual labor helped make him the man he is, I have a special fondness for strawberries.

Source:  istockphoto

I expected the strawberries to be especially sweet, but they weren't.  According to my farmer-turned-scientist husband, "lots of rain, little sunshine (remember the magic of photosynthesis), very little sugar".

We need rain. I won't dispute that.  But there can be too much rain. Hence expressions such as, "rain, rain go away" and "don't rain on my parade".

Likewise, my children need me to instruct, correct, to discipline which at times requires that I "rain on their parade".  But they also, and especially, need to bask in my approval, just because they are them.

Source: istockphoto

This is also true with our selves.  In the midst of striving to be better and do better, and the post-mortem-ing we inevitably do after a major task, sometimes we just need to appreciate who we are. To radiate warmth and kindness and sunshine.

And then, like magic, the sweetness will come.

Eunice, we hardly knew you...

I would encourage you to read Sisterhood's special bond, a piece eulogizing Eunice Kennedy Shriver.

Boston Globe columnist Yvonne Abraham begins, "She has been remembered as the sister of Jack, Bobby, and Teddy.  But if you must think of this remarkable woman as someone's sister, think of her as Rosemary's. Because it was Rosemary Kennedy who made Eunice who she was."

 Source:  Boston Globe/UPI

Here's the highlight:

"Even at a tribute to her in 2007, the woman who many allowed might have been president if only she'd been born a man said "I am lucky that I experienced the sting of rejection as a woman who was told that the real power was not for me.  I am lucky that I saw... Rosemary treated with the most unbearable rejection. It's really that simple.  Love gave me confidence and adversity gave me purpose."

In Alyson Jenkins' piece, Be your Own Batman she writes that women are defined in relation to someone else:  someone's mother, sister, aunt, wife, someone's Robin.  Even with Ms. Shriver, we know her best as someone's sister.

Joseph Kennedy was quoted as saying "had she been a man, Eunice would have made a fine politician."  As she herself states, there was a 'sting' to this.  We've all felt the 'sting' of adversity.  It is in the overcoming that we find our best self. 

What is your hardest test thus far?  In the overcoming, who did you become?

But adversity alone is not enough.  For it can just as easily lead to defeat as to triumph.  It was her love of Rosemary, and the difficulty surrounding Rosemary's mental retardation, and subsequent lobotomy, that drove Ms. Shriver to eventually found the Special Olympics. 

Who and what do you love so deeply, that this love becomes a well-spring of confidence?

Love gave me confidence and adversity gave me purpose.

Words to cherish...

...And a woman I would like to have known.

Dare to Dream Desk: We have a Winner

Thanks to www.random.org, commenter #18, Emily O of Manhattan, has won the the dare to dream desk giveaway sponsored by Simply Desks; her desk will be shipped tomorrow.

In response to the Joseph Campbell quote, Emily wrote:

Did Joseph Campbell ever live in Manhattan?  Perhaps he speaks of the metaphoric room or space where we are protected, nourished by unconditional love and buoyed by constant encouragement.

Several other comments in that post are worth reading; I hope you'll take a moment and scan through them.

 

Source:  Ashley G on Etsy, or Kitty Genius

We can likewise draw inspiration from Ashley Goldberg's paintings and Abigail Adams' writings:

I have possession of my Aunt's chamber in which...[there] is a pretty closet with a window that looks into her flower Garden.  In this closet...I have a pretty little desk...where I write all my Letters and keep my papers unmollested by any one.  I do not covet my Neighbours Goods, but I...have always had a fancy for a closet with a window which I could more peculiarly call my own.

May each of us make for ourselves a place where we can bring forth who we were meant to be.

Amy Jo Schenewark: On Care Giving

Amy Jo Schenewark worked in law enforcement for ten years, specializing in training and development, communications and "stings." Having fulfilled her husband's dream of having of six boys, she dreams of having chickens and bees, big gardens and decadent desserts, and wearing pink dresses.

Earlier this summer, Amy packed up her six boys, and moved to New Hampshire for two months so that she could care for her younger sister Becky and her family, while Becky was bedridden due to a difficult pregnancy and subsequent surgery.  Amy writes:   

I remember listening to NPR one evening while Bob Woodruff's wife recounted some of her experiences in taking care of her traumatic brain-injured husband.  He was injured in Iraq while reporting for ABC news. I thought, "Wow. I'm glad I'm not there. I don't know how people do it," people meaning caregivers. I expected one day I'd be taking care of my aging parents, they're just not there yet. I remember my mother taking care of her father. It began from weekly checks on him at his house, to moving him to her house, and then a care facility. I know she gave him all her spare time, thoughts and energy.

When Bob's wife, Lee, took phone calls from caregivers, I could sense their immediate connection.  They were instant friends because they both understood the burden they carry.  The unrelenting, never ending, sometimes frustrating, often draining and physically exhaustive service to a family member.

When I became a necessary caregiver this summer, I remembered those thoughts, but tucked them away in a safe place because I knew they could overwhelm me.

I labored for my sister, for her children, for my children, her handicapped child, and for my long distance husband.  I cooked and cleaned, as usual, it was just for more people.  I gardened.  I gathered medicines and supplies, learned about machines and equipment, signed for and unpacked medical supply deliveries, made mistakes, learned how to stay ahead of the curve.  I suctioned, hooked up G-tubes, put in a catheter, mixed feeding bags, drew prescriptions.

One day I was in the grocery store, waiting for my items to be scanned, when one item set off a beep that was like an alarm at home.  It scared me because I thought Ben was having oxygen issues. Or Becky's IV bag was empty.  Until I remembered where I was.

These two months have seemed liked a lifetime.  I forget what my house looks like, who my friends are, what my husband smells like.  And I wonder: 

How do caregivers keep going?

Who supports them when they want or need a break?

How do they deal with emotional drains?

How do they fulfill their own dreams?

How long should they put their dreams on the backburner?

Or are they too tired to have dreams?

Caring for Becky and her family was fulfilling not only because I care deeply about Becky, but also because I was succeeding at something I never dreamed capable of doing.  But it was never ending, and I had no down time.  And I didn't even have to do nights.  I also knew this was temporary;  two months of my time.  It brought a new perspective to a caregiver's life. 

***

I have spoken frequently of the journey of feminine psychological development, one in which we learn to say 'no', the word of protection, in addition to 'yes', the word of connection.

In reading Amy's post, I realized that in encouraging women to dream, there is an a priori assumption (one that is well-founded based on the women I know) that we have already mastered the 'yes'.  The fact is -- some of us do 'yes' better than others, either because we come by it naturally, because our circumstances have pushed us to practice more, or both.

Amy's essay is a lovely reminder that as we embark on our hero's journey, it is a journey only worth doing so long as the 'why' -- the saying 'yes' to our loved ones -- never ceases to matter.

For further reading:

Rick Riordan's Golden Fleece

A 21st-Century Country Bunny

Making Meaning in Malawi