I was on the phone with Adam last night as he made his way closer to Texas, and I casually glanced at my watch--12:10 am. The exact time Bryony was lifted from my body; the moment I became someone's mother and my entire world changed. Waking up this morning, I glanced down at my baby girl who was sleeping quietly next to me and then looked at the clock--7:00am. The time I woke up in my hospital bed and found my newborn daughter in the crib next to me. I remember I reached over to lift her out so I could hold her and nurse her...just the two of us, alone, bonding for the first time.
All day today I've been stealing glances at the clock, trying to remember what I was doing at that exact time a year ago--calling family? Absorbing my new reality? Bonding as a family with Adam and Bryony?
I have also been trying to recall the many moments--large and momentous as well as small and passing--that have shaped this last year. Bryony's first sleep smile, which I noticed while she was sleeping in her bouncy chair in the living room the first couple weeks she was home. The way that she would squish her face whenever I'd lightly blow in it. The adorable way she'd yawn and the way her hands--palms out--would cover her eyes melodramatically, as if she was a southern belle who "had the vapors!". The first time I saw her turn over, or crawl, or stand up on her own. The first time--in Oregon--she waved. When she learned her first sign in Sign Language--"cat"--because of her deep fondness and affection for Greg House. Her first time clapping. How she shakes her head "no" whenever I tell her not to do something. The way she pointed at Adam and said, "Da-da" as soon as he slid next to her in the car this past weekend. And those massive, bouncy curls...oh, those curls...
This post today is more for me than anything. There are so many moments that I can already feel starting to slip away. I wish I had been better about journaling my thoughts and her progress on a daily or even weekly basis. Thank goodness we have taken so many pictures; what I lack in text we make up for in imagery.
I have no more words for the way I feel about the year that has gone by, other than the fact that it has passed much, much too quickly but that I am so very grateful for every single moment of it. I hope I have lived up to my responsibility to this beautiful child.
Bryony, how I do love thee. --Mama
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Confirmation
I just received the confirmation e-mail in my inbox; my flight out to Texas has been booked. It's official. I will be leaving my home of the last eight years in less than two weeks.
This place, and the many wonderful people I have gotten to know, will be truly missed. I am trying not to dwell, but rather to reflect happily on the time we've spent here, and to look forward to many adventures yet to come.
Smile.
This place, and the many wonderful people I have gotten to know, will be truly missed. I am trying not to dwell, but rather to reflect happily on the time we've spent here, and to look forward to many adventures yet to come.
Smile.
Friday, May 21, 2010
All Belly? All Baloney!
Several years ago, a good friend of mine who had recently had her first baby told me that she'd read that there are three things that a new mother never admits to other new mothers:
1) She didn't get any stretch marks with her pregnancy;
2) She already fits into all her old, pre-pregnancy clothes;
3) Her newborn is already sleeping through the night
In the ten months that I was pregnant, and in the year since Bryony has been born, I have thought A LOT about these three rules of new mum etiquette. I think about them a lot because they are so commonly broken by women who seem intent on proving that they have mastered pregnancy and new motherhood better than any other, as if it were a competition.
I don't necessarily blame women, however. Our society is one that is intent on keeping women pre-pubescently skinny, without the natural breast, hip, buttocks and thigh curves inherent to a mature woman's form. How often do we see female actors on magazine covers being ridiculed for looking "fat" in a bathing suit, for having cellulite or for eating a meal other than salads? The next article announces in a frenzy that some other actress has an eating disorder and has lost too much weight. Has anyone ever noticed that male actors never NEVER NEVER get this treatment? Women have to live up to an unreal and unhealthy standard in order to be seen as beautiful by Hollywood, and by our society in general. In many cases, it's the difference between being employed or not.
Sadly, this mentality seems to extend to pregnancy as well. The one time in a woman's life that she SHOULD gain significant weight (and not be judged for it) is increasingly becoming less accepted, even by women themselves. As long as I have been an adult, I have understood that the proper comments to make to a pregnant woman include "Oh, you look great, you've barely gained any weight!" or "Other than the belly, I'd never know you were pregnant!" or my favorite, "Oh, you're ALL BELLY!". Why are we perpetuating this idea that gaining weight during a pregnancy is bad? Weight gain is supposed to happen. Women gain weight to have the fat supplies that provide nourishing energy to the developing fetus, as well as to produce breastmilk once the baby is born. Wouldn't it be great if we could come to a point where it was acceptable and complimentary to say, "I love your full and round pregnant body!" or "I'll bet your husband is sure loving the voluptuous pregnant beauty that you are!"
I can tell you that my body grew and changed a lot during the course of my pregnancy. While it took me several months to gain weight due to severe all-day nausea in the first trimester, I started to put it on rather easily in the last two months before Bryony was born. And, I admit, I was torn between being happy that I was finally putting on the weight that my midwives were shooting for, and a little anxious about being able to take off all that weight once the baby was born. Alas! I was anything but "all belly." My breasts not only got huge, but also lost their previous perky curve in favor of full, torpedo-shaped bundles. My butt, already a bit be-dunk-a-dunk, was even more 'grabbable.' My thighs, already on the heavy side, barely fit into my old jeans. And my face got full--full of the babyfat that I thought I had gotten rid of back in high school. My body changed; I was pregnant. I tried hard to accept it; it really helped to have a husband who continually (and exasperatedly) reminded me that I was not supposed to look like anything other than a pregnant woman while I was pregnant. Why did I have to be reminded of this?
I found it especially hard to have strangers and mere acquaintances ask me how much weight I had gained or if I had gotten stretch marks, information that was obviously none of their business. Truthfully, it even bothered me when close friends and family asked, because I would wonder what their motivation was--to judge "how good a job" I was doing at being pregnant? It seems as though if a woman gains more than 20 pounds or gets stretch marks, she has failed at being a good pregnant woman in society's eyes. Why else are people so interested in knowing these bits of information? I particularly hated when fellow pregnant women would ask, because I felt they were sizing me up, even though I didn't know it was a competition. To this day, I know women who wear it as a badge of honor that they "only gained 15 pounds" with their pregnancy or "didn't get any stretch marks" or "fit back into all my old clothes" within days or weeks of giving birth. Do they honestly think they were better at being pregnant than the rest of us? Well, I'll break it down for you, sweetheart. I gained almost 30 pounds with my pregnancy, which was a hard-won victory because as a nauseous vegetarian, it was very difficult to pack on the pounds for most of the pregnancy. I already HAD stretch marks from years of cyclical weight gain and weight loss, so I didn't really benefit much from not getting any during the pregnancy. And, it took several months before I started fitting back into my old clothes, and trust me, I fill them out A LOT differently than I used to. Besides flabby belly skin and still-full thighs, I can definitely pull the "muffintop" look if I'm not careful. Is it a little hard to deal with? Sure. But am I ashamed to admit my body changes? Not when they're here because of a certain beautiful little girl, who I still cannot believe I made. She is worth all the muffintop and stretch marks in the world. And honestly, while I wish my belly would shrink back to its pre-pregnancy size (especially on days like today when I'm squeezing into jeans in the fitting rooms at Old Navy), the only belly I really worry about is Bryony's...making sure it is full of the sweet, healthy milk my torpedo-shaped breasts produce for her everyday.
And by the way, with regard to rule #3, my baby STILL does not sleep through the night. Expecting her to wake up at any moment, actually.
1) She didn't get any stretch marks with her pregnancy;
2) She already fits into all her old, pre-pregnancy clothes;
3) Her newborn is already sleeping through the night
In the ten months that I was pregnant, and in the year since Bryony has been born, I have thought A LOT about these three rules of new mum etiquette. I think about them a lot because they are so commonly broken by women who seem intent on proving that they have mastered pregnancy and new motherhood better than any other, as if it were a competition.
I don't necessarily blame women, however. Our society is one that is intent on keeping women pre-pubescently skinny, without the natural breast, hip, buttocks and thigh curves inherent to a mature woman's form. How often do we see female actors on magazine covers being ridiculed for looking "fat" in a bathing suit, for having cellulite or for eating a meal other than salads? The next article announces in a frenzy that some other actress has an eating disorder and has lost too much weight. Has anyone ever noticed that male actors never NEVER NEVER get this treatment? Women have to live up to an unreal and unhealthy standard in order to be seen as beautiful by Hollywood, and by our society in general. In many cases, it's the difference between being employed or not.
Sadly, this mentality seems to extend to pregnancy as well. The one time in a woman's life that she SHOULD gain significant weight (and not be judged for it) is increasingly becoming less accepted, even by women themselves. As long as I have been an adult, I have understood that the proper comments to make to a pregnant woman include "Oh, you look great, you've barely gained any weight!" or "Other than the belly, I'd never know you were pregnant!" or my favorite, "Oh, you're ALL BELLY!". Why are we perpetuating this idea that gaining weight during a pregnancy is bad? Weight gain is supposed to happen. Women gain weight to have the fat supplies that provide nourishing energy to the developing fetus, as well as to produce breastmilk once the baby is born. Wouldn't it be great if we could come to a point where it was acceptable and complimentary to say, "I love your full and round pregnant body!" or "I'll bet your husband is sure loving the voluptuous pregnant beauty that you are!"
I can tell you that my body grew and changed a lot during the course of my pregnancy. While it took me several months to gain weight due to severe all-day nausea in the first trimester, I started to put it on rather easily in the last two months before Bryony was born. And, I admit, I was torn between being happy that I was finally putting on the weight that my midwives were shooting for, and a little anxious about being able to take off all that weight once the baby was born. Alas! I was anything but "all belly." My breasts not only got huge, but also lost their previous perky curve in favor of full, torpedo-shaped bundles. My butt, already a bit be-dunk-a-dunk, was even more 'grabbable.' My thighs, already on the heavy side, barely fit into my old jeans. And my face got full--full of the babyfat that I thought I had gotten rid of back in high school. My body changed; I was pregnant. I tried hard to accept it; it really helped to have a husband who continually (and exasperatedly) reminded me that I was not supposed to look like anything other than a pregnant woman while I was pregnant. Why did I have to be reminded of this?
I found it especially hard to have strangers and mere acquaintances ask me how much weight I had gained or if I had gotten stretch marks, information that was obviously none of their business. Truthfully, it even bothered me when close friends and family asked, because I would wonder what their motivation was--to judge "how good a job" I was doing at being pregnant? It seems as though if a woman gains more than 20 pounds or gets stretch marks, she has failed at being a good pregnant woman in society's eyes. Why else are people so interested in knowing these bits of information? I particularly hated when fellow pregnant women would ask, because I felt they were sizing me up, even though I didn't know it was a competition. To this day, I know women who wear it as a badge of honor that they "only gained 15 pounds" with their pregnancy or "didn't get any stretch marks" or "fit back into all my old clothes" within days or weeks of giving birth. Do they honestly think they were better at being pregnant than the rest of us? Well, I'll break it down for you, sweetheart. I gained almost 30 pounds with my pregnancy, which was a hard-won victory because as a nauseous vegetarian, it was very difficult to pack on the pounds for most of the pregnancy. I already HAD stretch marks from years of cyclical weight gain and weight loss, so I didn't really benefit much from not getting any during the pregnancy. And, it took several months before I started fitting back into my old clothes, and trust me, I fill them out A LOT differently than I used to. Besides flabby belly skin and still-full thighs, I can definitely pull the "muffintop" look if I'm not careful. Is it a little hard to deal with? Sure. But am I ashamed to admit my body changes? Not when they're here because of a certain beautiful little girl, who I still cannot believe I made. She is worth all the muffintop and stretch marks in the world. And honestly, while I wish my belly would shrink back to its pre-pregnancy size (especially on days like today when I'm squeezing into jeans in the fitting rooms at Old Navy), the only belly I really worry about is Bryony's...making sure it is full of the sweet, healthy milk my torpedo-shaped breasts produce for her everyday.
And by the way, with regard to rule #3, my baby STILL does not sleep through the night. Expecting her to wake up at any moment, actually.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
I've Fallen And I Can't Get Up
When visiting a friend recently, he confided in me that he is thinking about leaving his piece of beautiful, rural property (which he has lived on for more than 20 years) for a location closer to...well, people. It was a surprising statement, because this friend is not what one would call a "people person," which I suspect is one of the reasons he bought his rural property to begin with. However, now a divorcee with grown children, he has realized that living out in the middle of nowhere can get lonely. He admitted that the phone rarely rings and I was his first visitor in months. There is no one nearby to notice his absence or to miss him. The lingering thought that if he fell off a ladder while doing housework or couldn't get to his phone for some reason, and help would not arrive for a very long time, was sobering. How depressing.
I have realized that my situation is not so far removed. Certainly, I have a load of good friends who I see fairly regularly. Bryony and I have a standing coffee date with my friend Emily and her daughter every Wednesday. Mondays and Wednesdays we volunteer and every other Friday we go to a mother-baby group so Bryony can interact with other kids. So yes, we have stuff to do. But I realized--particularly when I came down with the flu last week--that despite all this, no one would immediately assume that anything was wrong if Bryony and I didn't show up for one of these events. Folks are very understanding of the whole "single mother" situation and tend to give me a lot of leeway if I can't fulfill an obligation. While this is nice during the times that I am behind the eight ball and am running to catch up, it could also be my undoing. If I fall down the stairs to the basement or slip in the bathtub or whatever, I don't think anyone will assume anything is wrong when I don't show up. That's not to say that they won't miss me--in fact, they would probably even call to see if everything is okay--but if I don't show up, and don't answer my phone, friends will likely just assume that I'll call in the next day or so to explain. If I am at the bottom of the stairs with a head injury, or have a fractured pelvic bone in the bathtub, I likely won't have DAYS to wait...and neither will Bryony. I often look at her now, hoping against hope that nothing tragic happens to me in front of her...or that she's not left for hours or days to wait for someone to come find us. Just the thought of her desperate cries, not knowing what happened to me--or worse, thinking that I've abandoned her--and waiting for help to arrive, tears at my heart.
So, in addition to being with Adam again, our move means that if I sustain a traumatic injury during the day that Adam will be home to find me within a few hours' time. It's the little things...
I have realized that my situation is not so far removed. Certainly, I have a load of good friends who I see fairly regularly. Bryony and I have a standing coffee date with my friend Emily and her daughter every Wednesday. Mondays and Wednesdays we volunteer and every other Friday we go to a mother-baby group so Bryony can interact with other kids. So yes, we have stuff to do. But I realized--particularly when I came down with the flu last week--that despite all this, no one would immediately assume that anything was wrong if Bryony and I didn't show up for one of these events. Folks are very understanding of the whole "single mother" situation and tend to give me a lot of leeway if I can't fulfill an obligation. While this is nice during the times that I am behind the eight ball and am running to catch up, it could also be my undoing. If I fall down the stairs to the basement or slip in the bathtub or whatever, I don't think anyone will assume anything is wrong when I don't show up. That's not to say that they won't miss me--in fact, they would probably even call to see if everything is okay--but if I don't show up, and don't answer my phone, friends will likely just assume that I'll call in the next day or so to explain. If I am at the bottom of the stairs with a head injury, or have a fractured pelvic bone in the bathtub, I likely won't have DAYS to wait...and neither will Bryony. I often look at her now, hoping against hope that nothing tragic happens to me in front of her...or that she's not left for hours or days to wait for someone to come find us. Just the thought of her desperate cries, not knowing what happened to me--or worse, thinking that I've abandoned her--and waiting for help to arrive, tears at my heart.
So, in addition to being with Adam again, our move means that if I sustain a traumatic injury during the day that Adam will be home to find me within a few hours' time. It's the little things...
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Bless The Beasts And The Children
I'll be the first one to admit that I'm often not very nice to Greg House. He always seems to find the perfect moment to annoy me most--climbing into my lap while I'm knitting, meowing incessantly just as I've put Bryony to sleep and then causing her to wake up again, eating my houseplants, and so on and so on. Annoy me as he might, I'll also be the first one to say what a genuinely good-hearted creature he is. In his time with us, he's never hissed or taken a swipe at us out of malice, and (so very very thankfully) he has been very tolerant with Bryony in this first year of her life.
Saturday night I was lying in bed, talking on the phone with a girlfriend; Greg House was resting near my feet. Around 1:30am Bryony's cries flooded through the monitor. Greg House jumped off the bed and ran into the next room, presumably to get away from the piercing cries from the monitor. I let her cry for a few minutes, as I had just fed her an hour earlier and knew she wasn't hungry. However, after more than ten minutes of continued crying, I ended my phone call and walked down the hall to Bryony's room...only to find Greg House camped outside her door, waiting for me to take care of "his" little girl. I was touched and overwhelmed. Could this cat, who has been so patient and tolerant of my naively brutish infant, really care enough to sit vigil outside her room? I opened the door to her room to find her standing at the end of her crib, screaming for comfort from what ailed her. Greg House silently slipped past my legs as I walked in, and then took up sentry duty next to the rocking chair as I managed to relieve Bryony of the gas that had been causing her pain. Greg House stayed right by the chair, somehow knowing not to make a sound, as I quieted her back to sleep, and eventually went to place her back in her crib. As soon as he saw me lift her in, he slipped back out of her room as quietly as he came in. Baby girl was okay. His job--to wait, watch and rest assured--was done. They love each other, the baby and the cat. And I love them.
Saturday night I was lying in bed, talking on the phone with a girlfriend; Greg House was resting near my feet. Around 1:30am Bryony's cries flooded through the monitor. Greg House jumped off the bed and ran into the next room, presumably to get away from the piercing cries from the monitor. I let her cry for a few minutes, as I had just fed her an hour earlier and knew she wasn't hungry. However, after more than ten minutes of continued crying, I ended my phone call and walked down the hall to Bryony's room...only to find Greg House camped outside her door, waiting for me to take care of "his" little girl. I was touched and overwhelmed. Could this cat, who has been so patient and tolerant of my naively brutish infant, really care enough to sit vigil outside her room? I opened the door to her room to find her standing at the end of her crib, screaming for comfort from what ailed her. Greg House silently slipped past my legs as I walked in, and then took up sentry duty next to the rocking chair as I managed to relieve Bryony of the gas that had been causing her pain. Greg House stayed right by the chair, somehow knowing not to make a sound, as I quieted her back to sleep, and eventually went to place her back in her crib. As soon as he saw me lift her in, he slipped back out of her room as quietly as he came in. Baby girl was okay. His job--to wait, watch and rest assured--was done. They love each other, the baby and the cat. And I love them.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Us Till Now
I realize I've yammered on for quite awhile about my take on social and political happenings, so I'll return to my roots here and give a family update.
Bryony and I are in the final countdown till the big move down to Texas. I'm dealing with the idea of packing, saying good-bye to my life of the last eight years, and moving to a new town...by not giving it much thought at all. Yes, I am in total avoidance mode right now. Instead, I've been spending our days visiting friends and enjoying the nooks and crannies of this town that I've only recently discovered and taken advantage of. I'm just trying to enjoy the final weeks that we have here; packing will come soon enough.
I applied for a job with the Fish and Wildlife Service here in town; although I have no fantasies of actually getting this job, considering how competetive the market is these days, I figured it was still worth trying for. After all, we have a house and infrastructure here, so it makes sense. Of course, staying here for a job means not being with Adam, which is exactly the opposite plan of action that we've been shooting for. Tough choices.
Bryony is doing really well...11 months (I canNOT believe it!) and coming up on the big 0-1 in less than a month. Funny how many baby parties we've been invited to by little ones also hitting that first birthday milestone; we're heading to two this week alone. I have been reflecting a lot about the little girl I've come to know over the last eleven months as my daughter, my little-life-changing-event, my headache, my bliss, my everything...she has changed so much, especially lately. Her most recent progressions include walking (supported), dancing, pointing (including touching her index finger to yours, a la "E.T."), shaking her head "No!" when she knows she's doing something she shouldn't, and relay nursing (climbing all over me to alternate between breasts as she gets antsy). She is SO much fun. We have been doing lots of things together--Monday evenings we volunteer at our local greenhouse with another woman and her baby boy (we're called the Monday Evening Mamas); Wednesday mornings we volunteer at the local neighborhood center for the Senior Coffee discussion; Thursday mornings we got to the local library, which hosts a baby story hour led by a really enthusiastic and caring woman who is fantastic with the kids. Our week is full of many fun things that we'll miss when we leave our little city!
Adam is doing really well, although a bit work-weary. He works long, long hours but enjoys the cases he tries. I'm so happy for him that he is finally in a position that he loves. The only thing that would make his life better is having his baby girl there to come home to every night (and I guess having his wife there wouldn't hurt, either). He'll be coming back here at the end of the month for Bryony's birthday and also to move us back to the life he has created for us in Texas. Despite my sadness in leaving Michigan, I am SOOOOO extremely happy and excited to finally be with Adam again. It's about time.
Which brings me to my final thought. Last week, as I was cleaning up the house after hosting my knitting group for the final time, I had a sobering and unsettling thought--I am extremely comfortable here, in this life that Bryony and I have, sans Adam. We have our routine, our activities, our friends. Not to say that I don't miss him, but I truthfully don't feel the aching, painful sting of separation that I did when we first separated. I have adapted and overcome and moved on. And that's not good. I realized that it is definitely time to be with my husband again, before I get too "used to" being without him. I called him right away to tell him what I'd been thinking. He responded, "Well, I know you see that as a negative, and I appreciate it. But I actually think it's great that you are doing all right on your own. Imagine how it would make me feel if I were here doing my thing and I knew that you were miserable out there? It's good that you're doing okay."
I have got a great husband. And I cannot WAIT to see him.
Bryony and I are in the final countdown till the big move down to Texas. I'm dealing with the idea of packing, saying good-bye to my life of the last eight years, and moving to a new town...by not giving it much thought at all. Yes, I am in total avoidance mode right now. Instead, I've been spending our days visiting friends and enjoying the nooks and crannies of this town that I've only recently discovered and taken advantage of. I'm just trying to enjoy the final weeks that we have here; packing will come soon enough.
I applied for a job with the Fish and Wildlife Service here in town; although I have no fantasies of actually getting this job, considering how competetive the market is these days, I figured it was still worth trying for. After all, we have a house and infrastructure here, so it makes sense. Of course, staying here for a job means not being with Adam, which is exactly the opposite plan of action that we've been shooting for. Tough choices.
Bryony is doing really well...11 months (I canNOT believe it!) and coming up on the big 0-1 in less than a month. Funny how many baby parties we've been invited to by little ones also hitting that first birthday milestone; we're heading to two this week alone. I have been reflecting a lot about the little girl I've come to know over the last eleven months as my daughter, my little-life-changing-event, my headache, my bliss, my everything...she has changed so much, especially lately. Her most recent progressions include walking (supported), dancing, pointing (including touching her index finger to yours, a la "E.T."), shaking her head "No!" when she knows she's doing something she shouldn't, and relay nursing (climbing all over me to alternate between breasts as she gets antsy). She is SO much fun. We have been doing lots of things together--Monday evenings we volunteer at our local greenhouse with another woman and her baby boy (we're called the Monday Evening Mamas); Wednesday mornings we volunteer at the local neighborhood center for the Senior Coffee discussion; Thursday mornings we got to the local library, which hosts a baby story hour led by a really enthusiastic and caring woman who is fantastic with the kids. Our week is full of many fun things that we'll miss when we leave our little city!
Adam is doing really well, although a bit work-weary. He works long, long hours but enjoys the cases he tries. I'm so happy for him that he is finally in a position that he loves. The only thing that would make his life better is having his baby girl there to come home to every night (and I guess having his wife there wouldn't hurt, either). He'll be coming back here at the end of the month for Bryony's birthday and also to move us back to the life he has created for us in Texas. Despite my sadness in leaving Michigan, I am SOOOOO extremely happy and excited to finally be with Adam again. It's about time.
Which brings me to my final thought. Last week, as I was cleaning up the house after hosting my knitting group for the final time, I had a sobering and unsettling thought--I am extremely comfortable here, in this life that Bryony and I have, sans Adam. We have our routine, our activities, our friends. Not to say that I don't miss him, but I truthfully don't feel the aching, painful sting of separation that I did when we first separated. I have adapted and overcome and moved on. And that's not good. I realized that it is definitely time to be with my husband again, before I get too "used to" being without him. I called him right away to tell him what I'd been thinking. He responded, "Well, I know you see that as a negative, and I appreciate it. But I actually think it's great that you are doing all right on your own. Imagine how it would make me feel if I were here doing my thing and I knew that you were miserable out there? It's good that you're doing okay."
I have got a great husband. And I cannot WAIT to see him.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Crossing The Border
I decided to take a break from watching "Lawrence of Arabia" (yes, all 3 hours and 47 minutes of it) to blog a bit. This is a topic I've been wanting to write about for a LONG time, but recent events have made it much more relevant, so I figured there was no time like the present.
I have often joked that I am so far left on the political spectrum that if I were to try going any further I'd be in the Pacific Ocean. And it's true, I am VERY liberal--I'm most definitely pro-choice, anti-war (in most cases, but particularly in the case of the Iraq War), pro-gay (-marriage, -rights, -etc.), and strongly believe that we pay taxes and elect public officials to represent us and to better our nation (and our states, cities and towns).
However, there is one issue on which I "cross the border" (pun intended) to the other side to a large degree. That would be illegal immigration.
Perhaps the better description of my position on this issue is split or undecided. I think there are good arguments in both camps, but at the end of the day, I tend to fall more heavily on the conservative side. After all, illegal does mean "against the law."
I have had many conversations with friends about illegal immigration issues, and their comments have varied widely. Liberal friends who have not been affected by an influx of illegal immigrants in their communities are strongly supportive of allowing illegals to stay, and even giving them amnesty; refugee friends whose lives were in jeopardy in their own country for political or genocidal reasons wish that illegals would have to wait in line for legal entrance just as they themselves had to; and an ethnically-Mexican friend (who is a U.S. citizen) who disagrees with the way illegals are entering the country, also feels that Mexicans are unfairly carrying the brunt of the blame, considering many illegals are of Asian, hispanic and even European descent.
I feel for many, or even most illegal immigrants. I think a very very few Americans truly know what it is to be destitute, to not know when or if they will be able to feed their kids or put clothes on their back. Even in our current recession-wary economy, where so many people have lost jobs and homes and lifestyles they were accustomed to, a small percentage are actually experiencing anything comparable to a third-world existence. And so, I can appreciate the desperation and the I'll-do-anything-for-my-family determination that people have in order to ensure their loved ones' survival. I'm sure that if I were in a similar situation, I would do anything, break any rule, to make sure my kids were fed and healthy. I know I would.
Add to this argument the fact that illegal immigrants are in many ways the backbone of American industry. They are the ones who work the low-wage fruit-picking jobs. They are the unseen cooks and busboys who work in our restaurants. They are the housekeepers in our hotels and the day laborers constructing our houses and buildings. Illegal immigrants are no doubt part of the American fabric. They not only contribute their work, but also their money; a large percentage of illegals pay taxes, despite not having a Social Security Number. The vast majority are good, hard-working people who are here looking for a better life for themselves and their families.
However, while there are so many reasons to argue for the continued presence of the undocumented (and even for their amnesty), I think there are just as many, if not more reasons to argue against allowing them to stay here.
First, it's hard to argue with the basic terminology. There is a reason they are called illegal immigrants; they are here against the law, whether it's because they have crossed the border illegally, or have stayed past the time marked on their passport.
Second, I can't help but think of the many people who DIE trying to cross the border, whether from exhaustion, heat fatigue or trouble with the law. If border security were enforced to the point that illegals were stopped before they had the opportunity to cross, I can only imagine how many children, pregnant women and many others could be spared a tragic ending that might otherwise occur.
Then, there's the issue of jobs. While we've all heard the battlecry, "Well, illegals work the jobs that no American is willing to take!" I don't know if that is true now, or if it has ever been true. I knew plenty of people in high school and college (including me!) who were willing to serve food, clean houses and work under stressful conditions in order to pay their bills. Nowadays, this pool of willing workers includes folks who were once small business owners, executives, lawyers, etc. So is it realistic to think that our nation's citizens are going to be able to get back on their collective feet when they can't get hired for below-minimum-wage jobs because they are being filled with undocumented workers who will work for less and under poor conditions?
Which brings me to my next point: do we really want to foster a culture where it's okay to treat certain people to a poor work environment and low pay simply because they don't have the legal status to demand more? Right now, undocumented citizens often work long hard days only to be refused their due pay at the end. I have heard cases where employers threaten to report individuals to INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service) if they complain about the treatment. This is a form of slavery--making people work for no pay, and holding them hostage by threats of retaliation. I thought we abolished that a long time ago in the U.S.
One of the more recent situations that has arisen from illegal immigration is one that boils my blood, mostly because I fell prey to it myself (although not necessarily at the hands of illegals)--identity theft. Because undocumented people cannot get loans to buy cars, houses or make any other significant purchase, there has been an increase in the rise of stolen identification and stolen social security numbers; this assigns them a "valid i.d." so that they are then eligible for loans, credit cards and other big-ticket items. Problem is, if they default on the loan or purchase payment, they can then disappear, leaving the stolen i.d....with the person they originally stole it from. Often the identity theft victim doesn't even know that their identity was stolen until large amounts of debt have been amassed (and defaulted on), leaving the victim to prove they were not the culprit and thereby having to sort out the mess on their own. Trust me, I've had to do it, and it's a pain...in...the...a^*$%.
So you've probably heard of the recent bill signed by the Arizona governor that allows police in the state to arrest anyone they "suspect" is illegal. Of course it's a dumb law that is never going to work and is going to eventually blow up in their face. Do they realize how many lawsuits are going to ensue because legal citizens are going to be harassed and arrested for seeming illegal simply because of their ethnicity. It seems obvious that this is not going to work, but it's not the law itself that I appreciate; it's the sentiment behind it. While I personally love the Mexican and hispanic culture that is prevalent in the southwest, that doesn't mean that I like the idea of people getting a free pass to cross the border as they wish. The federal government has been promising for years that border control is going to be stepped up, but the feds have failed in every respect. Arizonans have had enough and want to take the matter into their own hands. Are they doing it the right way? In my opinion, I think they are way off the mark. But I can appreciate their frustration and urge to do something, and soon.
So what would I suggest? One of the first big changes I would make is one that other countries have had for many years--remove the instantaneous citizenship that is granted to anyone born in this country. The United States is one of the few countries where a child automatically is a citizen upon birth. A friend of mine who grew up in a bordertown in Texas has memories of teenage Mexican girls sneaking over the border at more than nine months pregnant just to have their babies in this country. This, of course, means their children are legal citizens, and their mothers and therefore entitled to government assistance. The logical change (in my eyes, at least) is that at least one of the parents would have to be a legal citizen in order for the child to be considered a citizen, too. This is the way that things are done amongst many other countries in the world. It seems obvious that at least some of the illegal border crossings would be drastically reduced if citizenship and government assistance incentives were removed.
I was also thinking today about the impacts, namely, to the food industry. One of the constant mantras we hear is "Americans won't pay higher prices for food that has been harvested by American citizens (assuming legal citizens will demand fair pay and work conditions). Perhaps this is true to some extent. But what might also be true is a return to smaller, local, family-operated farms that wouldn't depend on day laborers to exist. Could the removal of illegal workers on large, corporate farms signal a chance for smaller farmers to re-enter the arena and start competing again? This could be a boon for America's small business owners, as well as return to healthy, locavore eating for the American people. I recognize I'm being much too idealistic here and that if any of these situations occurred, it would be at a very small scale, and would likely take many years to come to fruition. But still, it's something to think about.
I'm VERY curious to know what you guys think about all this. I know it's a sensitive topic that is near and dear to many of your hearts, which is why I tried to show that I understand both sides, even if I agree with one side more. I'm always interested in learning more information and feeling connected to people's thoughts and feelings, so please...share!
It's really late and I'm so tired now I can't even take the time to proofread this. Please excuse the spelling and grammatical errors.
I have often joked that I am so far left on the political spectrum that if I were to try going any further I'd be in the Pacific Ocean. And it's true, I am VERY liberal--I'm most definitely pro-choice, anti-war (in most cases, but particularly in the case of the Iraq War), pro-gay (-marriage, -rights, -etc.), and strongly believe that we pay taxes and elect public officials to represent us and to better our nation (and our states, cities and towns).
However, there is one issue on which I "cross the border" (pun intended) to the other side to a large degree. That would be illegal immigration.
Perhaps the better description of my position on this issue is split or undecided. I think there are good arguments in both camps, but at the end of the day, I tend to fall more heavily on the conservative side. After all, illegal does mean "against the law."
I have had many conversations with friends about illegal immigration issues, and their comments have varied widely. Liberal friends who have not been affected by an influx of illegal immigrants in their communities are strongly supportive of allowing illegals to stay, and even giving them amnesty; refugee friends whose lives were in jeopardy in their own country for political or genocidal reasons wish that illegals would have to wait in line for legal entrance just as they themselves had to; and an ethnically-Mexican friend (who is a U.S. citizen) who disagrees with the way illegals are entering the country, also feels that Mexicans are unfairly carrying the brunt of the blame, considering many illegals are of Asian, hispanic and even European descent.
I feel for many, or even most illegal immigrants. I think a very very few Americans truly know what it is to be destitute, to not know when or if they will be able to feed their kids or put clothes on their back. Even in our current recession-wary economy, where so many people have lost jobs and homes and lifestyles they were accustomed to, a small percentage are actually experiencing anything comparable to a third-world existence. And so, I can appreciate the desperation and the I'll-do-anything-for-my-family determination that people have in order to ensure their loved ones' survival. I'm sure that if I were in a similar situation, I would do anything, break any rule, to make sure my kids were fed and healthy. I know I would.
Add to this argument the fact that illegal immigrants are in many ways the backbone of American industry. They are the ones who work the low-wage fruit-picking jobs. They are the unseen cooks and busboys who work in our restaurants. They are the housekeepers in our hotels and the day laborers constructing our houses and buildings. Illegal immigrants are no doubt part of the American fabric. They not only contribute their work, but also their money; a large percentage of illegals pay taxes, despite not having a Social Security Number. The vast majority are good, hard-working people who are here looking for a better life for themselves and their families.
However, while there are so many reasons to argue for the continued presence of the undocumented (and even for their amnesty), I think there are just as many, if not more reasons to argue against allowing them to stay here.
First, it's hard to argue with the basic terminology. There is a reason they are called illegal immigrants; they are here against the law, whether it's because they have crossed the border illegally, or have stayed past the time marked on their passport.
Second, I can't help but think of the many people who DIE trying to cross the border, whether from exhaustion, heat fatigue or trouble with the law. If border security were enforced to the point that illegals were stopped before they had the opportunity to cross, I can only imagine how many children, pregnant women and many others could be spared a tragic ending that might otherwise occur.
Then, there's the issue of jobs. While we've all heard the battlecry, "Well, illegals work the jobs that no American is willing to take!" I don't know if that is true now, or if it has ever been true. I knew plenty of people in high school and college (including me!) who were willing to serve food, clean houses and work under stressful conditions in order to pay their bills. Nowadays, this pool of willing workers includes folks who were once small business owners, executives, lawyers, etc. So is it realistic to think that our nation's citizens are going to be able to get back on their collective feet when they can't get hired for below-minimum-wage jobs because they are being filled with undocumented workers who will work for less and under poor conditions?
Which brings me to my next point: do we really want to foster a culture where it's okay to treat certain people to a poor work environment and low pay simply because they don't have the legal status to demand more? Right now, undocumented citizens often work long hard days only to be refused their due pay at the end. I have heard cases where employers threaten to report individuals to INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service) if they complain about the treatment. This is a form of slavery--making people work for no pay, and holding them hostage by threats of retaliation. I thought we abolished that a long time ago in the U.S.
One of the more recent situations that has arisen from illegal immigration is one that boils my blood, mostly because I fell prey to it myself (although not necessarily at the hands of illegals)--identity theft. Because undocumented people cannot get loans to buy cars, houses or make any other significant purchase, there has been an increase in the rise of stolen identification and stolen social security numbers; this assigns them a "valid i.d." so that they are then eligible for loans, credit cards and other big-ticket items. Problem is, if they default on the loan or purchase payment, they can then disappear, leaving the stolen i.d....with the person they originally stole it from. Often the identity theft victim doesn't even know that their identity was stolen until large amounts of debt have been amassed (and defaulted on), leaving the victim to prove they were not the culprit and thereby having to sort out the mess on their own. Trust me, I've had to do it, and it's a pain...in...the...a^*$%.
So you've probably heard of the recent bill signed by the Arizona governor that allows police in the state to arrest anyone they "suspect" is illegal. Of course it's a dumb law that is never going to work and is going to eventually blow up in their face. Do they realize how many lawsuits are going to ensue because legal citizens are going to be harassed and arrested for seeming illegal simply because of their ethnicity. It seems obvious that this is not going to work, but it's not the law itself that I appreciate; it's the sentiment behind it. While I personally love the Mexican and hispanic culture that is prevalent in the southwest, that doesn't mean that I like the idea of people getting a free pass to cross the border as they wish. The federal government has been promising for years that border control is going to be stepped up, but the feds have failed in every respect. Arizonans have had enough and want to take the matter into their own hands. Are they doing it the right way? In my opinion, I think they are way off the mark. But I can appreciate their frustration and urge to do something, and soon.
So what would I suggest? One of the first big changes I would make is one that other countries have had for many years--remove the instantaneous citizenship that is granted to anyone born in this country. The United States is one of the few countries where a child automatically is a citizen upon birth. A friend of mine who grew up in a bordertown in Texas has memories of teenage Mexican girls sneaking over the border at more than nine months pregnant just to have their babies in this country. This, of course, means their children are legal citizens, and their mothers and therefore entitled to government assistance. The logical change (in my eyes, at least) is that at least one of the parents would have to be a legal citizen in order for the child to be considered a citizen, too. This is the way that things are done amongst many other countries in the world. It seems obvious that at least some of the illegal border crossings would be drastically reduced if citizenship and government assistance incentives were removed.
I was also thinking today about the impacts, namely, to the food industry. One of the constant mantras we hear is "Americans won't pay higher prices for food that has been harvested by American citizens (assuming legal citizens will demand fair pay and work conditions). Perhaps this is true to some extent. But what might also be true is a return to smaller, local, family-operated farms that wouldn't depend on day laborers to exist. Could the removal of illegal workers on large, corporate farms signal a chance for smaller farmers to re-enter the arena and start competing again? This could be a boon for America's small business owners, as well as return to healthy, locavore eating for the American people. I recognize I'm being much too idealistic here and that if any of these situations occurred, it would be at a very small scale, and would likely take many years to come to fruition. But still, it's something to think about.
I'm VERY curious to know what you guys think about all this. I know it's a sensitive topic that is near and dear to many of your hearts, which is why I tried to show that I understand both sides, even if I agree with one side more. I'm always interested in learning more information and feeling connected to people's thoughts and feelings, so please...share!
It's really late and I'm so tired now I can't even take the time to proofread this. Please excuse the spelling and grammatical errors.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)