GUEST BLOG POST: A Valentine to Motherhood by Rochelle Jewel Shapiro

             My Uncle Kenny, he should rest in peace, used to shake his head and say, “If only we could raise the neighbor’s children.”

            Sure, because we’d be detached, we’d be able to see exactly what we were doing without the overlay of our own childhood, our own wishes. I’m a grandparent now like my Uncle Kenny was back when he told me that, so I think I have a better sense of what my failings were. 

            From what I remember, most parents when I was young didn’t worry about whether or not their children loved them. They just assumed they did, like they assumed they were taking in oxygen when they breathed, no matter what they could afford or even how they treated their kids. I was beaten at home and wouldn’t recommend it. In fact, I’m still recovering. But I remember my friend’s father, a big burly man, telling his four children, “If you don’t like my rules, don’t bang your ass on the door as you leave.” His four kids didn’t leave until they were of age and could support themselves and they would do anything for him.

            On the other hand, when I became a mother and had to give my daughter a time-out, I’m sure I suffered more than she did in her roomful of toys, worrying that I had been too harsh. Oh, and the times I didn’t make it to the count of ten and lost it and yelled, my heart took an express elevator down to my knees. The first time my daughter said, “I hate you Mommy,” she was two and only my head knew this was normal. The rest of me shriveled like a salted slug. I had hoped to be the beloved Marmee of Little Women, the playful mother in The Five Little Peppers and How they Grew, the wise and kindly one in I Remember Mama. Maybe my parents were lucky that they never read books. They weren’t trying to live up to impossible expectations.

            By the time my son was born, I’d discovered the work of Haim Ginott. http://www.betweenparentandchild.com/index.php?s=content&p=Haim who believed that parents should reflect back a child’s feelings. For example, if you notice that your child feels blue after her cousin leaves from a week-long visit, you might say, “The house must seem so empty without Leonard here.”

I was so insecure with my parenting that I overdid it. One day my son came off the bus in huff. He glared at me and said, “Don’t ask me how I feel about socking Adam back.” After that, no matter how cagey I was with my Ginott, my son was onto me.

My friend, Rick, was so reviled by his parents for being gay that he had to move from the Midwest to New York to escape them. After observing me interacting with my daughter and son, he said, “Gosh, Rochelle, I had no idea that there were parents who wanted their kids’ approval.”

            He was right. But thankfully, despite my insecurities, it all turned out fine. My daughter calls me daily and ends most of our phone calls with her saying, “love you” and my son always clasps me to him whenever we say goodbye. But what anguish I would have saved myself if only I had had the benefit of reading about the mother/child bonding in Judith Horstman’s The Scientific American Book of Love, Sex, and the Brain: the Neuroscience of How, When, Why, and Who We Love  (Jossey-Bass, 2012), http://www.amazon.com/Scientific-American-Book-Love-Brain/dp/0470647787/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1328372577&sr=1-2  By using modern tools for looking into the brain, it’s been proven (p. 43) that because of the firing of mirroring neurons and the flooding of oxytocin, the “cuddle hormone,” joy is created in a mother and child by just looking into each other’s faces. As a result, a mother holds a special place in a child’s heart and brain throughout his lifetime, even when the child is grown and out of the house for years. Soldiers wounded in battle cry out for their mothers. Most children phone their mothers when they are in crisis for comfort. The reminder of a mother’s touch, her voice, can help change people’s minds, moods, and choices. We carry our mothers with us to the end of our days. The elderly often cry out for their mothers as they are dying.

            If I had fully understood the neurological and biochemical factors of motherhood as I was raising my children, I might have thought of it for what it truly is---a valentine that lasts a lifetime.

Rochelle Jewel Shapiro is a novelist, essayist, poet, blogger, writing instructor and more. She is the author of Miriam the Medium (Simon and Schuster) which is selling in the U.S., the U.K., Belgium and Holland.  Visit www.rochellejewelshapiro.com

GUEST BLOG POST:Balancing Life and Parenting by Kira Wizner

Being a Responsible Parent and Carving Out a Life For Yourself:  It is Possible!

Imagine an old-fashioned counter-weight scale coming into balance.  It will dip on each side, back and forth, until you rearrange things and allow the scale to settle.

Most of us feel that our family is probably the most important thing in our lives.  It’s true.  Because it’s true, we often put our family responsibilities first, ahead of ourselves.  Our scales are not balanced.

Theoretically, we know why we need to bring a strong, complete self to parenthood, but let’s go over it again.  We are models for our children, and models for the people and parents that our children will become.  Want the best imitation of yourself?  Ask your child.  It will be uncanny.  Showing your child all the different things you do, and how you strive for balance, will also help your child strive for balance. 

Children hear (and repeat) what we say.  If you find yourself saying, “I’ve never left the kids with a babysitter,” or “I spend so much time taking care of everyone else, I don’t have time to do anything for myself,” kids will get those messages.  In order: “There is something wrong with babysitters/babysitting though I’m only a kid so I’m not quite sure what it is”; “You aren’t taking time for yourself even though you seem to know you need it, and I am one of the reasons why.”

A tired, stressed out mom is not a great mom.  If you are super honest with yourself, you know you are a better mom (and partner, daughter, friend) when you are rested and feel like the things that can be under control, actually are.

So, now we are reminded why we need to balance the scale. What specifically can we do to retain and regain that balance? 

This is a time to pull out some blank paper or a journal.  Go through your day, then your week.  What are the hardest times?  The times you feel the most tired or stressed?  What are the best times?  What do you want to do more of?  What do you want to do less of?  Once you have some ideas, work slowly to figure out what you need to make sure it can happen.

Retain all the balance you have—do you take a yoga class you love?  Or know you need to exercise at least twice a week?  For a long time I took a weekly yoga class with women I really connected with; when that didn’t work with my schedule, I started going to the gym twice a week, and after that, I switched to biking.  My goal?  To make sure I had time to exercise in the week.  Later, I realized I missed some of that connection I got at yoga, and looked for other ways to replace it.

Talk with your partner or a friend about the smallest move with the biggest payoff.  Can you hire someone to do something that is draining your time or energy?  Can you swap some household responsibilities with your partner?  Are there things your kids could be doing that you haven’t thought of?  Perhaps making breakfast is something your child could take on more easily than you’ve realized.

What is your time and inner peace worth?  You may find 2 or 3 hours of babysitting, for you to do anything (class, rest, coffee with a friend, reading) is a small fix that reaps big rewards.

Are you rushing to after school classes… can you cut some?  Or make a plan with another parent or caregiver who might be going to the same place?  It’s hard for many mothers (me!) to let another mom bring your child to an after school activity when I know how much I value that after school connection, and therein lies the “everything in moderation”.  It’s not every day after school, it might be once a week, or once every other week.  And our children will have valuable life experiences those days.  Reasonable versatility is a great skill to practice!

Do you use an online calendar that sends reminders to your phone?  Do you share that calendar with your partner, or your ex, or your caregiver or any other adult that helps?  This is one of the small moves that goes a long way.  And there are youtube videos with step-by-step instructions, so even if it’s not your thing, you can do it.

How are you taking care of you?  Schedule appointments, even with yourself!  Knowing you are going to take a salt bath, or do a body scrub, or sit with a coffee, reminds you that you are worth the gift of time and relaxation.  You need it.

Because, face it—we don’t really have any choice!  This is our life, now.  Every day you are going to get up and be your amazing self—so give yourself what you need to be that strong, vibrant mom!  Build yourself a sustainable model.  There is a big space between knowing something and actually doing it—things will shift when you make a shift. 

We can think of family life like a boat—if there are holes and water is coming in, you can get a bucket and bail it out—you can keep bailing indefinitely—you’ll be tired, you’ll have to take turns sleeping, but the boat will not sink.  Or, you could pull the boat back to shallow water, turn it over, let it dry, make some repairs, take the time to reinforce the weak parts, pack some extra patching material, maybe even a shiny glossy coat of paint, and then get back in the water.

Kira Wizner, M.S.T., is a mom of two and parent coach in New York City.  A former teacher and staff developer in the NYC public school system, she began an intense study in parenting and child development when she became a mother.  Her askyourfriendkira.com site features information on subjects from conception through parenting.  Her new teleclass, Your Family Map, addresses the burning issues moms often face and explores ten areas of modern life, from Family Harmony to Self Care, to Food, the Arts, Travel, Technology and more.  Participants will learn how to create a map of the family life they'd like to manifest, including a plan of action.

Kira is offering a complimentary preview call for this program on Wednesday, February 15th at 12 noon EST.  http://www.askyourfriendkira.com/registration-familymap-introductory-teleclass.

Learn more about the course here http://www.askyourfriendkira.com/your-family-map-i-friends-family, and Motherhood Later readers can use this page for enrollment for a special friends and family discount tuition.

GUEST BLOG POST: Steve Jobs....Foster Care....and Adoption by Adam Pertman

With seemingly ceaseless regularity nowadays, most recently in the coverage of Steve Jobs' passing, we are inundated by conflicting messages relating to adoption.

For the last few weeks, the wonder of adoption has been on display. November is National Adoption Awareness Month, so media outlets nationwide have written and broadcast stories about children whose lives are improved as a result of moving from foster care into permanent, loving families. President Obama even issued a proclamation, as he and his predecessors have done routinely in past years, extolling the benefits of the process and adding that “we celebrate the acts of compassion and love that unite children with adoptive families.”

At other times, of course, a very different picture is transmitted. Sometimes the focus is on parents who seem to regard adoption as child rental (remember the mother who "returned" her son to Russia?) or ones who purportedly use the child welfare system as a means of getting monthly support payments; the most sensational case took place several years ago in New Jersey, where a couple allegedly starved their four adopted sons in order to retain more of their state subsidies.

Press accounts cast an appropriately suspicious eye on parents who commit such horrid acts but, all too often, they also raise broader concerns about the competence and motives of adoptive parents per se; in particular, they implicitly or explicitly suggest that people may adopt children for dubious reasons or even that adoption itself is somehow a less-legitimate or less-desirable means of building a family. In the coverage of Jobs, for instance, we regularly saw and read reports that questioned his being "given away" by his "real parents" – language that hardly affirms adoption as a positive option.

So which is it? Lucky kids or kids relegated to second-class families? Good people trying to do the right thing for their children, either by placing their children for adoption or adopting them, or desperate people with suspect motives? What are we to think when we receive such disparate impressions, not just this month, but time after time when there's a high-profile story involving adoption? Or even when adoption is depicted in either very positive ways ("Modern Family") or chillingly negative ways ("Orphan") in the movies and on television?

Based on available research and extensive experience, two unambiguous realities emerge: that most adoptive parents are doing the same things as most biological parents – that is, providing their children with all the affection and care they humanly can; and that, with rare exceptions, boys and girls are far better off in permanent families than in foster care, orphanages or any other temporary or institutional setting.

But adoption's history of secrecy has afforded us with too few opportunities to learn about its realities. So we tend to assume we're learning far more from singular, usually aberrational experiences – man bites dog is a story, after all, while dog bites man is not – than we usually are.

Yes, financial payments intended to increase the number of adoptions from foster care can cause complications, but that's the clear exception. And, yes, families sometimes struggle because of the challenges their children face as a consequence of having been mistreated and/or institutionalized before they were adopted. But there is no indication that horrors such as the ones that typically make the news are being repeated with any regularity elsewhere, even though many thousands of parents throughout the country receive state subsidies – and even though the number of children being adopted from foster care is at historic highs.

Moreover, even in the most troubled systems, good things are happening daily. Most children are being reunited with newly healthy mothers, fathers and other biological relatives, while a fast-growing number of kids (over 52,000 last year alone and over 57,000 the year before that) are being adopted by loving parents who treat them very well. The same is true for the hundreds of thousands of girls and boys who have been adopted from orphanages abroad over the last couple of decades.

It's hard to learn much from secrets, so we as a culture don't yet know enough about adoptions from foster care and institutions to put the aberrational stories in perspective. That's changing, to be sure; organizations such as the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute, which I'm proud to lead, are providing more and better research and knowledge – please take a look at www.adoptioninstitute.org to read our most recent work – and, partly as a result, the media are doing a better job of informing the public, policy-makers and others who profoundly affect the tens of millions of children and families for whom adoption and foster care are daily facts of life.

Even as we make progress, however, the still-widespread lack of knowledge has tangible, negative consequences that play out in the attitudes all these people encounter and the policies that impact their lives.

I am not defending any system that does less than everything possible to protect the children within it. But we live in a society in which nearly every program that helps vulnerable children receives insufficient resources; in which well-intentioned quick fixes replace (rather than augment) thoughtful, long-term solutions such as post-adoption services; and in which cases like the ones I've cited above fuel our worst stereotypes about adoptive parents, birth parents, their children, and adoption itself.

A positive and interesting question for the media to explore (but I haven't yet heard it asked) would be something like this: Would the world have had Steve Jobs without adoption?

During National Adoption Awareness Month, states across the country have celebrated by holding public ceremonies at which hundreds upon hundreds of children have received the opportunity to move into permanent, loving and successful families.

I'd like to suggest it's also a good time for all of us to start learning more about adoption, foster care and institutionalization (orphanages), because the problems will be fixed more rapidly if faulty stereotypes are replaced by genuine understandings. And the ultimate beneficiaries will be the hundreds of thousands of boys and girls, in our own country and others, who will still need homes long after we turn another page on our calendars.

Adam Pertman is author, Adoption Nation, and Executive Director of the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute www.adoptioninstitute.org.  Visit his blog www.adampertman.com.

Five Lessons Learned While Waiting for Labor to Begin by Leta Hamilton

My house is a mess, and I don’t feel ready to have a baby, but my body is saying, “READY! READY!” Can’t I have everything exactly the way I want it before bringing this baby into the world? There is nothing in my medical history or past birth experiences to merit anything other than a vaginal delivery of baby #4. I know, for me, this is the way it is meant to be. For other moms, a scheduled c-section or induced labor is par for the course. And while a part of me may envy their foreknowledge of when and where their baby will come, I also have a deep reverence for the route I am going. In this time of “any time now,” I am learning five important lessons about what it means to be at peace in an uncertain world.

1. Not knowing when my baby is coming forces me to be present in a way that is otherwise rare. I took out my calendar this morning and looked at my plans for the week, knowing that they may or may not happen – and also knowing that if I missed a meeting because of bringing new life into the world, it would be ok. I am grateful for the opportunity to be present with my body, my family and my schedule. It is a refreshing change from the norm!

2. The waiting and the messy house gives me an opportunity to work on those areas that mean the most to me and let go of the rest. What can I live with? Where do I want to deploy my energetic resources when every time I walk through the house I feel like a whale swimming through molasses? Today I showed my husband where the baby blankets, newborn clothes and diapers were. Secure in the knowledge that I won’t have to think about these things when I am pushing out my baby, I feel like that is pretty much it – we are ready.

3. I am practicing self-compassion and taking the time to rest so I have the energy to do the things I most want to do. Yesterday I had three things in my schedule and I did none of them. Today I have two things that I don’t want to miss and I have the energy to attend them because I took other, less important things, off the agenda yesterday. I am learning how to make compassionate choices that create more harmony within. Physically, I may feel like a whale, but the peace that comes with self-compassion more than makes up for it.

4. Looking into the future is a game. Will he come before or after Halloween? He may be born on Halloween for all I know. All of this uncertainty is a metaphor for how life treats us generally. There are always unforeseen events in our existences. This is a given. Having this time to deal with a big unknown gives me tools for dealing with the surprises that I know are forthcoming. Giving birth over to nature allows me to participate in the cycle of life in a way that is congruent, not adversarial. This flow brings overall peace and I am grateful.

5. Finally, the mystery about the exact day and time I will go into labor brings complications into the picture that serve to enhance my ability to surrender what I cannot control over to the universe. There is a saying, “If you have a problem and can do something about it, why worry? If you have a problem and can do nothing about it, why worry?” It will be alright, no matter what mania surrounds me in the first moments of active labor. I know this. I may not be ready for a nighttime birth with my two year old sleeping next to me, but I know that in the moment I will have a solution. This is faith and a sprinkle of it over my overall approach to life has much needed benefits to my peace of mind.

All of the above are guiding lights toward a peaceful heart in the midst of chaos. As every mom knows, family brings an abundance of that. I know this time of waiting is a deepening of tolerance for whatever mayhem awaits me. With 4 kids ages 7 and under, I need this growth to my spiritual perspective. It’s perfect just the way it is – whale belly swimming through molasses and everything.

GUEST BLOG POST: Letting Go Stirs Us Up by Loren Buckner

I lost a ring recently. It belonged to my grandmother. She gave it to my mother, who gave it me. I was planning on giving it to my daughter. I've turned the house upside down looking for it. I thought I knew where it was, but when I went for it, it was gone.

The interesting thing about this is that when I knew where the ring was I never thought about it. Now that it has disappeared, I can't get it out of my mind. To feel better, I remind myself that no one is sick and no one has died. I've lost a thing not a loved one. Loss has a trickle down effect, though; one loss flows into others.

As parents, we tend to think about what it means to have children. We don’t focus very much on how difficult it is to let go of them. We know it's important to be present in their lives and we want them to know that they can count on us. There's an inherent problem, however, that catches many parents, mothers especially, by surprise. As we create meaningful relationships with our children, we also become deeply attached to them.

Feeling this deep connection is wonderful. It helps our kids develop inner security and self-confidence. Watching them grow up and away from us is a source of pride and joy but it's also sometimes painful.

Separation begins early. Allowing babies to amuse themselves alone in their cribs and encouraging them to reach out toward other people begins the process. As we support separation, children will look forward to starting school, making friends, trying new things. Eventually they learn to drive and finally go off to college or out into the workforce. It’s a step-by-step repetitive process of their leaving and returning, leaving and returning. Our task is to face the emotional storms these milestones stir up.

I can still remember how I cried as I prepared to stop nursing my children. When I left them at daycare, I could hardly bring myself to walk out the door. I couldn’t wait for them to go off to camp, but then I missed them terribly every day they were away. As much as I was ready for our son to go off to college, it hurt my heart that he was really gone. And when it was time to launch our daughter, I was excited and proud. But the reality that she was grown and ready to fly also made me feel sad and lonely.

Don't get me wrong. My children's developmental milestones generated feelings of relief and delight. As they became more independent, I loved the growing sense of freedom that went along with it. When arguments about bedtime, homework time, and mall time became things of the past, it felt pretty darn good. And when the worry about where they were and who they were with was finally over, there was cause to celebrate.

Nevertheless, part of the normal parenting process also includes mourning. Feelings of sadness and loss that we have to address over and over as our children grow and change.

Mourning our losses may seem like a painful idea. “Shouldn’t I try to forget about my sadness and move on?”

Mourning is painful but not mourning is painful too. Holding our feelings inside and denying their existence doesn’t mean our feelings are gone. It’s a little like leaving food in the refrigerator for too long. At first we are completely unaware the onion is even in there. But, gradually, the whole refrigerator smells bad.

Grieving is like taking the onion out and wiping down the inside of the fridge. Not a chore we like to do but one we feel better about after it’s done.

“So, what do I have to do? Sit around and cry all day?” Not exactly. Mourning is allowing our thoughts and feelings to wash over us: crying, remembering, laughing, thinking about the good times and the bad ones too. From time to time, allow what comes to mind to linger there.

Although the ring is probably gone, I'll keep looking for it. I know now that the feelings it has triggered go beyond the ring itself. I still miss my mom, who died many years ago, and I'm feeling a little sidelined as my kids lead their busy lives.

These emotions I'm feeling aren't easily put into words. They're a fact of life, a normal everyday occurrence. And yet, I mourn for these losses as I get ready to start my day.

The author of ParentWise: The Emotional Challenges of Family Life and How To Deal With Them, Loren Buckner, LCSW received a B.A in the Administration of Justice from American University and earned a Master of Social Work degree from Tulane University. She is a Fellow at the International Psychotherapy Institute, a member of the Chinese American Psychoanalytic Alliance, and a member of the Tampa Bay Psychoanalytic Society. Loren Buckner lives in Tampa, Florida, where she is in private practice as a psychotherapist. She is the mother of two grown children and has been married for over thirty years. A sought-after speaker and presenter, Loren has addressed local, national and international groups about the emotional challenges of raising children


Visit Loren Buckner on the web at: http://www.parentwisebook.com/.