Vaccines and the War on Science

I’m tackling this one head-on, so here goes.  First, I believe that, because money runs much of the world, vaccines are being pushed more than necessary.  Profit drives pharmaceuticals, medical care, hospitals, medical schools, and on and on.  This makes me suspicious of the recommendations of anyone, including those who would traditionally be considered credible, such as medical doctors and the CDC.  It also makes me question whether putting all of those vaccines into my little baby’s body is the best thing for her.  I have questioned vaccines much more than my doctor would probably like.

I also believe that the benefit of at least some vaccines has been scientifically proven beyond almost all doubt.  I personally know people who have been tragically affected by polio and measles.  The near eradication of those diseases is (was) miraculous, and questioning whether those vaccines are necessary because it’s trendy to do so is a privilege only allowed those of us who have never lived in third-world conditions where parents would literally give their lives to have access to vaccines that would protect their children.  So…I bet you’re wondering:  is she pro-vax or anti-vax?   You probably just want to skip to the end to find out.  And that’s the problem.  

The media, as usual, has done an excellent job of turning the vaccine issue into a black-and-white, polarizing one.  Are you pro-vax or anti-vax?  WELL????  I’ll tell you what I am.  I’m pro-science.  Not any science, because we all know you can make a study or a statistic say anything you want.  I’m pro- good, solid evidence proven repeatedly through the scientific method.  Remember when we learned about that in school?  Double-blind studies?  Peer review?  The placebo effect?  Validity?  Reliability?  All those things that make a credible study?  That’s what I’m interested in, and I have to be honest—sometimes I don’t know where to find it anymore.  We now have a board-certified cardiologist here in Arizona spewing how vaccines are toxic.  You will note, however, that his diatribe fails to ever name a reliable source other than something generic like, “Ask the CDC!”    If he has a valid source, I am really interested, but so far he seems to just want to drive traffic to his web site.  We have bloggers giving their opinions as though they are facts, saying things like, “Studies show that vaccines are toxic, and here are three stories of kids who died after getting the ABC vaccine.”  I think most of these bloggers believe what they’re saying, but WE SHOULDN’T.  It’s just an opinion; consider it, follow up on it, ask questions, but don’t blindly rely on it.  Even what you read in books is just an opinion unless every single sentence is cited with a source that you can verify.  Look, I’m guilty, too.  I am moved by Jenny McCarthy’s story, and I think she genuinely found what worked for her son.  Good for her—she was a relentless, loving mama.  But her story shouldn't dictate mine.  Or when I read that ten kids some blogger knew showed signs of autism within 2 months of getting the MMR vaccine, it terrifies me.  As a mama and a human being, my immediate reaction is to keep my kid as far away from that vaccine as possible, just in case.  But that approach is neither rational nor supported, and it’s my responsibility as a mother not to make choices based on knee-jerk, solely emotional reactions.

            

          Am I pro-vax or anti-vax?  I will not be cornered into answering a question that forces me to take an ignorant position.  Currently, as more reliable information emerges, I will continue to weigh the costs and benefits.  After doing the best research I’ve been able to do and taking my emotions out of it as much as possible, the benefits of most vaccines far outweigh the proven risks in my opinion. If more risks are credibly proven in the future, my opinion may change.  I also modified our vaccine schedule because it seemed like a low-risk way to avoid putting too many drugs into my child at one time for my own peace of mind.  I will never, however, be pro-vax or anti-vax, because I will always be open to new information.  I am pro-science.  REAL science.  In my opinion, a subtle war on science is being waged by those who profit from it.  It is now an opinion to “believe in” science, which is just what many corporations and politicians want because it makes it easier to control us.  If science is just one of many options of things to believe in, then it puts science on an even keel with a blog post.  Or a novel.  Or a fairy tale.  Or…wait for it…an advertisement.  

            

My advice?  AND IT’S JUST MY ADVICE!  I am just some woman sitting here typing in yoga pants—don’t blindly believe me or anyone else!  My advice is to not take a pro- or anti-vaccine stance.  Don’t buy into the crap.  Be pro-science.  Pro-information.  Pro-asking-questions.  Pro-thinking.  Pro-people.  Pro-health.  Pro-community.   Pro-responsibility.  It is infinitely more effective.

Having It All

I’ve read a couple of different articles lately expressing the views of highly successful women on whether women can really “have it all.”  The trend seems to be more and more toward saying, “No, you can’t.  You have to make choices.”  Well…DUH.  This conversation annoys me to no end because the question, “Can women [or anyone for that matter] have it all?” is a trick question.  What the hell is “it all”?????  It's different for everyone.  It’s a moving target.  It’s a way to make women feel as though there’s some “all” out there that is achievable if they only figure out how.  It’s crap.  Has anyone stopped to define what “having it all” really means?  I have a sneaking suspicion that all of this pontificating about whether and how women can have it all has skipped right over actually defining what “it all” means.  This leaves us running around opining about how this way or that way might work to get us to the promised land of “having it all,” when we don’t even know what that means.  We wouldn’t even recognize it if we had it.

Can you have it all?  Yes.  You can have the things you want most, and give up the things that mean less to you.  Do I have it all?  Yes:  I have a career that works beautifully for me—I work mostly from home and have flexibility.  Do I have it all?  No:  My job does not give me some great sense of inner fulfillment, and I gave up more prestige and money than many people would want to give up.  Do I have it all?  Yes:  I have a functioning, happy family.  Do I have it all?  No:  It took me till I was 42 to have a child and she’s an only child.  I have mom guilt about not spending more time with her.  Do I have it all?  Yes:  I’ve traveled all over the world.  Do I have it all?  No:  I haven’t been out of the country for years.  Do I have it all?  Yes:  I have enough money to do the things I want to do.  Do I have it all?  No:  I still have student loan debt from almost 20 years ago.  See the problem?  It’s a RIDICULOUS question.

I have it all because I say so.  I’ve determined what is most important to me, and I’ve traded the other stuff to get it.  My idea of “it all,” however, might be your worst nightmare.  And who cares?  There is no one, perfect “it all,” and we owe it to ourselves to stop pretending otherwise.  Can you have it all?  Absolutely.  You can define your own “it all,” and go out and get it.  Stop chasing this myth of a single way to “have it all.”  I know what my “having it all” looks like.  Do I have it all?  Yes:  I have what I want most right now.  Do I have it all?  No:  There are a thousand more exciting things to go after.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The Depth of the Struggle is the Height of the Joy

I was reminded today of a really rough patch in my life about nine years ago. I was rehashing it all with a friend and I said, “Damn. If I had known then that it would take almost ten years to work through all of that, I don’t think I would have made it.” It has been a huge mountain, marathon, or whatever other metaphor exists out there for a long, arduous journey. And now there is just one word that fills my mind like a prayer offered to the universe:  Wow. Wowow. The view from the top of my mountain is stunning.

Imperfect Bliss

I've been reading a book about allowing moms to get real about how hard parenting is. The authors interviewed lots of moms and found that the initial responses were things along the lines of, "Everything's GREAT!  I LOVE being a mom!  I love my kids!" Then, when the authors probed a little deeper, moms started revealing that they were really stressed out and sometimes downright miserable. Moms started revealing the little mom things they'd done that were far from perfect, like yelling at their kids, feeding their kids cheese puffs for dinner, and wishing they could spend more time on their careers. The book is all about letting go of judgment and expectations so we aren't being so hard on ourselves. I think it's a good book that a lot of people will relate to, and I think the truth needs to be told. I think it's important to get the honest tales of parenting out there instead of pretending we're all perfect. The weird thing, however, is that the book isn't really speaking to me. I really am ecstatically happy being a mom. I absolutely love having a day where I rock the baby, and cook a meal, and open the windows. I love the daily joys, like the way J smiles when she sees us in the morning, or the peace that comes when she has been in pain and finally feels better. I don't share this too much, however, because I feel like it's too sugarcoated. I don't want to sound like a parent who is trying to convince others that I'm living in this little ball of perfection and bliss, so I make sure to point out the bad things, too. But if telling the truth is what's important for supporting each other in parenting--and I think it is--I love it! I am living in a little ball of IMperfect bliss.

But here's the thing:  it doesn't look like it sounds. It is a MESS!!!  I just love my little mess, that's all.  I had one of those days recently that I love: Mike took the baby for most of the day, I had time to catch up on my to-do piles, work on J's baby book, cook a yummy soup in the crockpot, open the windows, and play some music. When Mike and J came home, we ate and watched the Oscars--my absolute fave.  It was one of the best Oscar shows in years. We all were in bed by 10 and J slept all night.  BLISS! It sounds so wonderful, doesn't it?  It was! I love it! But here's the part that is also true:  My to-do piles didn't get as done as I'd hoped, ordering photos for J's baby book unexpectedly turned into a 3-hour project, the soup was done late, the house got too cold with the windows open, and J screamed--SCREAMED--through most of the Oscars. We missed half the show and were on the internet desperately trying to figure out how to make her feel better and how to get some sanity for ourselves. We all three fell into bed within about an hour of each other and I nervously prayed that J would stay asleep while I coughed myself to sleep.

What's the lesson here? I totally agree that parents in general feel pressure to be perfect and, as a result, often do not feel the freedom to be honest about the rough parts. I, however, am experiencing the opposite: I feel hesitant to gush about the great parts because I don't want it to appear fake or sugar coated, and I don't want to alienate others who might not be feeling great about it. Still, I think honesty is the key here, and honesty about the bliss is as important as honesty about the crap, right? So here is my truth:  Parenting is the best, most fulfilling, most important thing I've ever done. I LOVE it. I rarely get tired of Baby J and I feel like I have a fantastic balance between parenting and other work. I also have a fantastic parenting partner that makes parenting a lot easier and more enjoyable. Even though breastfeeding turned into a joke, and we've been to the pediatrician four times already, and we have yet to reach full agreement on the best choices for childcare, and the medical bills may never get paid, and crying myself to sleep has been a regular part of my week for the past 3 months, and I'm in the worst physical shape of my life…I LOVE it. I waited a long time to do this, and I love the simplicities of an everyday normal little life. I really, really do.

Live, From New York

After roughly two months of ignoring this blog…yay, I'm back!  For now, anyway.  The past two months have been good, and the transition of moving has gotten better by the day.  I have also identified since my last post that I have roughly 3 hormonal settings:  (1) depressed/anxious, (2) ANGRY, and (3) euphoric.  When the first two show up, I just ride the wave.  It saves me a lot of the effort previously spent trying to figure out why I'm feeling this or that way.  Seriously, I have no idea and I don't even care.  It passes quickly.  And the euphoria part is fun.  All is well. 

I had a fun little observation the other day.  It turns out that in this household, we generally watch or record Saturday Night Live. A few weeks ago, we were discussing whether to save the recording. I asked who the host was, and we both agreed that, nah, we weren’t that interested in watching. There’s something I love about the fact that the identity of the week’s SNL host has become so iconic that it is a common thread that binds us—something we can discuss in shorthand because everyone in the conversation gets it. 

It took me back about 35 years to when I was a little girl picking up on conversations my mom and dad had about SNL. I knew they loved it. I knew they mimicked it. I knew it was not for kids (so, of course, I had to find out what this thing was). I heard them imitate and laugh about Roseanne-Roseannadanna, Chevy Chase’s antics, and the Coneheads. One night when I was probably about 6, I remember positioning my pillow and my door so I could just barely see the TV from my bed. I willed myself to stay awake so I could witness this most important of phenomena. All I really remember is the intro with Chevy Chase bumbling up the stairs, but I felt like I had triumphed! I had stayed awake and watched this most amazing thing that I was not supposed to see! Now I was part of the circle!  (Never mind that I really had no more understanding of SNL than I’d had the day before.)

Over the years, I came to love SNL on my own. I watched Buckwheat and the Church Lady and Will Farrell's endlessly funny characters. I laughed and mimicked my favorites. And it occurred to me the other night as we were discussing the simple subject of that week’s SNL host, that my daughter will hear us talk about SNL the same way I heard my parents. Not much about my daughter’s life will be the same as mine. She will be living in a different time. I grew up on a farm, and she’ll probably grow up in a city. My parents had me at age 22. I will have Baby J at age 42. This baby will likely grow up with more money than I did. There are not a lot of common threads.  But, across all those lines and years, she will hear us talk about SNL the same way I heard my parents talk about it. 

It's a strange commonality, and I found it a little disconcerting that, of all things, SNL came to my mind as the common thread between my upbringing and my daughter’s.  But then…it’s kind of cool. SNL fails A LOT, but it keeps going, and when it hits the mark, it’s gold. It’s had tremendous longevity. It is creative and irreverent and fearless and aware and relevant. Best of all, it makes me laugh. I think these things may turn out to be some pretty fantastic common threads after all.

Moving

Part of the plan of coparenting this baby is for me to move into Mike's house and for us to live together for the first year of Baby J's life. We made this decision primarily because didn't know how to realistically split time with a newborn, and we also wanted to establish ourselves as a family. My lease is up at the end of October so, at first, we thought we'd do the move at that time (which would have put me at 7 1/2 months pregnant). After some wonderful advice from a friend and mulling it over a little, however, we decided to tackle the move now, while I am still in my second trimester and while we have some time to adjust before the baby arrives. For anyone contemplating a similar situation, this was a REALLY good decision--a big thank you to my friend D for the advice. I am SO GLAD we did the move now, and I highly recommend taking on big changes in small steps.

First of all, I am probably feeling as good as I will feel during this pregnancy, and even though I've had a lot of help, the move still really has been too much for me. My body is completely spent, which makes me even more grouchy and irritable. I can't imagine doing this 10 or 20 pounds heavier, when we are also trying to do showers and birthing plans and classes. Secondly, although I knew this would be an adjustment, I had no idea what that really meant.

In addition to the physical difficulties, this move has taken me to my limits emotionally.  There are days when I feel like I've lost everything that is mine. Most of my stuff is in storage. I'm living in someone else's house, with someone else's stuff, and someone else's way of doing things. Someone else has taken over my body, including my physical abilities, my ability to focus, and even my moods. And, as things seem to go, life has not made it any easier. For example, the day I moved my cats over to the new house, one of them was so traumatized that she bit me (hard), sending me to urgent care.  I was trying to keep the cats happy, keep Mike from worrying, and worry about myself and Baby J, and I just lost it--over and over again.  I also lost a good portion of my hard drive while moving my computer--I'm still not sure what happened there. To make matters worse, the first night sleeping in a new house was horrid--I was exhausted, but didn't sleep at all and sat up and cried several times.  I kept thinking that my life is never going back to normal, and it's always going to feel this awful. I'm never to going to get the sleep I used to get, or have the privacy I used to have, or be in control of how the household runs. And, the final cherry on top--of course I couldn't stop worrying that all this stress and worry (yes, I get the insanity here) would harm the baby. Sigh.

It's a lot of change at once, and I didn't really want to talk to Mike about it, because I think he is having to adjust just as much as I am and there's not really anything to be done. It's just a really tough adjustment period. One bright spot is that I've never once questioned or regretted my decision to have a child or to do it by coparenting this way. In the midst of feeling this awful stress, depression, and anxiety, there is a certain peace in knowing that nothing needs to be fixed. Things are just hard right now. I tend to have a good day and then a bad day, so if I can just hang on, I can make it to the next day. Some days I count the hours till I can just go to bed. Other days I'm productive--today I'm even writing a blog post!

For anyone who's ever suffered from depression and/or anxiety, you know that awful, sinking, helpless feeling it brings. I have battled it for years, and I AM winning the battle. It's so much better than it used to be; however, it still flares up and it is flaring up now. Lately, on days when I have that feeling that I can describe as nothing other than depression and despair, I just hang on. The weird part in all of this--that has not occurred for me before--is that I am happy.  I know I am on the right path. I know it is going to be okay. I know I have what I want. I am happy with my life and I am depressed. It's the strangest feeling and I have learned not to overanalyze it. I just hang on. Hang on, hang on, hang on.

I wouldn't necessarily recommend this strategy for everyone. Often we wait way too long to seek help for depression and anxiety, so if you need help, please get it. For me, however, I feel like I have continued to seek professional help and continued to apply what I've learned for years. I have (and continue to, as needed) utilized antidepressants, gone to therapy, faced my demons, and used the tools I've been given to manage my life. It has worked. The bad days are MUCH less frequent and last for MUCH less time. For whatever reason, though, I am predisposed to depression and anxiety, and they still hit me when things get hard. Maybe they always will. I have found that there's very little I can do in the midst of it to feel better. So I let myself off the hook. I write the day (or week or month) off as a bad one. I don't blame myself anymore. I don't try to fix it. I do what I can and I let it run its course the same way I would let the flu run its course. When I stop resisting it, it seems to show up less and less.

I wouldn't trade this experience for anything, and the only way to fully experience is to walk through all of it--including all the ugly parts--by putting one foot in front of the other. Happy days are ahead. ♥

Twelve-Year Rewind

It seems that everyone is really interested in how I ended up where I am--happily pregnant in a well-planned co-parenting situation. When I ask someone if they want to know, they almost always say something like, "Oh yes, but I didn't want to be nosy!" On that subject I am pretty much an open book, and I want this blog to include helpful information for anyone else going through any piece of what I've gone through. Therefore, I am going to periodically include posts with concrete information--my backstory and any facts that I think might be helpful to people out there. Before I get to the more recent nitty-gritty, however, let's go back about 12 years...

I think this journey really started in 2001, the year of the 9/11 tragedy and the year I turned 30. That year was pivotal for me, but I didn't know it then.  I was working in a big law firm in downtown Phoenix on 9/11/01. I remember watching the second plane fly into the south tower live on NBC. I remember a few moments later when it sunk in that this was no accident. I remember as the realizations got bigger and bigger:  not only was this no accident, but this was an attack. And I remember a moment that afternoon when I was walking down the street in downtown Phoenix--at that point, we really didn't know if more attacks would follow and I can't imagine that anyone felt safe anywhere. I truly felt as if a plane could strike or a bomb could go off right where I was standing. There was no way to know and nowhere to go. When I realized that it was completely and totally out of my hands, I had a moment, right there on the sidewalk, of total peace. I was profoundly grateful and happy to have that moment, walking down the sidewalk in the sun on a beautiful September day, knowing that nothing else was guaranteed. I understood what mattered. I understood that the present moment is the ONLY thing we have. It changed me, but, again, I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know at the time that my heart and soul were about to begin a very long process of rejecting anything that didn't matter--anything that wasn't me, wasn't true, wasn't real.

Two months later I turned 30.  Truth be told, I was devastated to be turning 30, especially without a husband or children.  I think I was so devastated, that my fragile heart just couldn't go there, so I was in complete denial about it without even knowing it.  Because I didn't know what else to do, I focused on the good things about turning 30.  I focused on my successful career.  I listened to all the things people say about how THIS decade is the best one, and Mr. Right is just around the corner, and people have babies when they're 50 now! I reminded myself that I think age is just a number and it's crazy to be sad or embarrassed about your age!  I would never do that!  I am proud!  I am successful!  Everything is perfect!

All those things were true(ish), and it was also true that I had many positive things to be grateful for, and that focusing on the great things is generally a healthy thing to do. What I did not do--and could  not have known to do at the time--was face my demons. Positivity is wonderful, and gratitude is the gateway to many wonderful things, but I believe that truth trumps both of them. Positivity and gratitude were not going to help me a whole lot so long as I was avoiding the dark stuff--fear, hurt, pain, jealousy. That stuff is a part of life and burying it only gives it more power. One of my favorite quotes of all time came from the TV show "Grey's Anatomy" (it still makes me teary):  "Every[one] has a shadow. And the only way to get rid of a shadow is to turn off the light.  Stop running from the darkness. And face what you fear--head on."

Really doing this and coming to grips with it--facing my fears, admitting what I really wanted, having the courage to go after it, facing my hurts, forgiving the past, forgiving myself, getting honest about all the good and all the bad, and being not only okay with wanting to be a mom, but being blissfully excited about it--would take me the next eight years. Stay tuned.