Feminism and the terrifying dependency of children

[Cross-posted at Larvatus Prodeo - where you'll find a great conversation on these issues in the comments.]

For Australian women of my generation, many issues of structural gender inequality can seem far removed from their daily experiences and, thus, difficult to relate to. Many civil rights, which were only recently (and only partially) achieved, are easily taken for granted when you have grown up assuming access to them. For this reason, it is not uncommon for women to be shocked when confronted the ongoing reality of structural inequality when they become mothers and they suddenly find themselves falling into gendered roles and suffering from gendered disadvantage as a result. Given this fact, it is a shame that the dominant form of feminism in Australia – liberal feminism – does not deal particularly well with the structural inequalities faced by mothers.

Liberal feminism has failed to adequately respond to the realities of motherhood, because it has primarily focused on helping women to overcome their historic status as second-class citizens by becoming independent. This vision of equality has led to the struggle for a range of positive measures for women, including:

• the rights to education, to work and to receive equal pay;
• the right own property;
• the right to participate in public life by voting and running for political office; and
• the right to bodily autonomy, including the right to refuse to consent to sex and to terminate unwanted pregnancies.

All of these rights are important prerequisites to equality and all of them have historically been denied to women, particularly after marriage. The struggle for these rights is also an ongoing one, as they continue to be denied to the majority of women across the globe and remain under threat even where they have been achieved. Nonetheless, this vision of equality falls down when the reality of dependency enters the picture. For women who are, or become, dependent on partners, families or the State, liberal feminism's vision of equality through independence becomes unattainable.

The right to education, to work, or to participate in public life is of limited value, for example, when participation requires that you disencumber yourself from dependents of your own. Just witness the treatment of female politicians who have tried to breastfeed on the floor of Parliament or brought their toddlers with them to a last minute division. Similarly, the right to bodily autonomy is rarely articulated in favour of women once they have chosen to carry their pregnancies to term. It is rarely used, for example, to fight for the rights of women in labour to control their own experience of giving birth, nor is it often extended to promote the idea that they ought to be supported by the community in caring for the baby once it has been born.

As a younger woman, my vision of equality was shaped in good part by the liberal feminist concept of emancipation through independence. I recognised my privilege in being able to access to many of the civil rights made possible through the feminist movement and didn’t expect to experience any significant barriers to achieving equality with my male peers. In this context, the experience of becoming pregnant and the impact that it had on my life took me completely by surprise.

From the first stages of my pregnancy I was alarmed by feelings of dependency on my partner that I had never experienced before. As my pregnancy progressed, my sense of physical vulnerability increased and my capacity to maintain my equality through independence was repeatedly challenged. Finally, when my daughter was born, her utter vulnerability shook me to the core and I realised that I could no longer operate in the world as a wholly autonomous unit. I was encumbered by this incredibly dependent little person who needed me for her very survival. My understanding of myself and of what I needed from the world shifted completely, as did my understanding of the feminist project. I could no longer relate to the ambivalence of liberal feminism to the needs, indeed rights, of dependent women (and children).

This ambivalence of liberal feminism to the rights of dependent women is one of the reasons that it finds favour with some areas of right-wing politics. The individualism and market focus of the independence model of equality dovetails neatly with economic liberalism (or neoliberalism) and the belief that the market is the best arbiter and distributor of value. Single mothers, for example, are readily vilified as ‘welfare queens’ greedily bludging off the State.

Left-wing liberal feminists responds differently to the issue of single mothers and are more likely to support their right to government assistance. Nonetheless, this assistance is rarely framed in terms of payment for the unpaid work of caring for children. Instead, it is viewed as a safety net to assist women to survive until they can rejoin the path to equality through autonomy. This is because left-wing liberal feminism still envisages liberation through market participation and, thus, tends to focus more on the issues of affordable childcare and (occasionally) flexible work arrangements in order to support women to more easily become independent post-motherhood.

You can see this attitude towards dependence reflected in many of the Gillard government’s policies. Single-parenting payments, for example, are paid to single parents (the majority of whom are women) until the youngest child turns eight, but at that point they are forced on to the (inadequate) Newstart allowance in order to ‘encourage’ them to join the paid workforce. To their credit, the government is consistent in that it does subsidise childcare and is working to increase both pay and standards within the sector. It has also introduced new measures to protect the right of employees to request flexible work arrangements (toothless though this right may be at present). Nonetheless, under this approach, dependency is treated as a temporary, largely avoidable state. As a result this approach has little to offer in terms of framing a vision of equality for those who exist within this state of dependency.

In a recent article on so-called ‘Retro Housewives‘ Alexandra Carlton quotes Anne Summers as being ‘exasperated by the domestic revival.’ According to Carlton, Summers is scathing of young women for walking away from their rights to ‘keep their jobs, to have equal access to promotion, and to be paid the same as men’ in order to become ‘yummy mummies.’ Similarly, Clementine Ford argues that ‘giving up everything to devote oneself to unpaid domestic work is self-sabotage.’

However, staying home to care for your children is only ‘self-sabotage’ if society is organised in such as way as to penalise you for doing it. Vilifying women for choosing to do so also fails to account for the reality of maternal desire and the very real needs of children. Focusing on the individual ‘choice’ of these women (who represent a very small percentage of society) also fails to account for the fact that staying home to perform unpaid domestic labour is the only realistic option available to many women, given the fact that affordable, accessible and high quality childcare, and working conditions that are flexible enough to make use of this care, remain a more of a dream than a reality for most. In this context, equating equality solely with autonomy will always result in a very large group of women being denied access.

I’m acutely aware that these arguments will be met by a chorus of claims that I am being sexist. What about fathers? Don’t these issues affect them as parents just as much as they affect mothers? This argument is put forward by Leslie Cannold, for example, who argues that ‘baby leave is not a women’s issue,’ because men should (and want to be) doing half of the unpaid childcare work.

However, this argument contains two separate assumptions, both of which are problematic. The first is that autonomy is the only path to equality. The second is that the dependency burden that goes along with parenthood can and should be equally shared. My major argument is with the first assumption (and I have partially set it out above), but I think the second also has flaws – primarily because it is fundamentally grounded in the first, but also because it denies biological realities.

Maternity leave is a women’s issue because it is women who get pregnant; who carry their children inside their bodies; birth them; and who are able to breastfeed them. The vulnerabilities and burdens that go along with these biological realities cannot be shared equally. Using the language of gender neutrality in relation to these realities only serves to obscure the highly gendered inequalities that currently result from them. Similarly, the value accorded to care work and the rights accorded to people in the midst of this dependent status are also women’s issues because the reality is that it is overwhelmingly women who do stay home to care for children and who do bear the burdens of dependency. Furthermore, when given the choice, many women still want to bear these burdens and there is no reason that this choice should have to equate to ‘self-sabotage.’

As Julie Stephens* has pointed out in response to Cannold,

a feminism promoting gender neutrality (in the name of equality) denies the bodily experience of women after they have given birth. Though a boon to the productive workplace, the breast pump may not necessarily protect the emotional needs of women and babies. To deny that baby leave is a women’s issue, to decouple ‘maternity’ from ‘leave’, is also to conceal human vulnerability and dependence. It reproduces what Iris Young has called ‘the normalising but impossible ideal’ that we are autonomous, unencumbered self-sufficient individuals, somehow beyond human dependency.

A further issue relates to the idea that the inequalities currently associated with performing unpaid domestic labour – particularly including caring for children – will somehow be erased if men take up half of the burden. People who perform paid care work, such as nurses, childcare workers and age-care workers, are also discriminated against and undervalued by society. Not coincidentally these are also professions that are dominated by women. However, it is rarely argued that the women who work in these professions have ‘chosen’ to be discriminated against and that their only path to equality lies in convincing men to take up careers within their sectors. Instead we understand that they are entitled to equality regardless of the number of men in their ranks. That even a highly feminised workforce should still be treated with respected and accorded equal value. Similarly, while a more equitable distribution of the burden of care work between men and women is a laudable goal, it doesn’t actually resolve the underlying inequalities and discrimination faced by those who do carry those burdens. It only serves to entrench this discrimination when we blame women for the inequalities they face, because somehow it isn’t a valid choice unless it is one that is also chosen by men.

What if instead of limiting our vision of equality to one of emancipation through independence we articulated one that accounts for both dependency and maternal desire? Such a vision would have to decouple our understanding of value from the market and acknowledge that the path to self-actualisation might sometimes entail willingly encumbering ourselves. It would also have to move beyond individualistic first generation rights to recognise our need for community support and our obligation to support others. Above all, such a vision would respond to the needs of all women, rather than only those who are willing and able to disencumber themselves and strive for independence.

For many Australian women, motherhood is a wake up call that confronts them with the ongoing reality of gender inequality in our society. Wouldn’t it be great if feminism was also there to greet them with a vision of equality that acknowledges their present reality?

*[Via blue milk]

Transgressive breastfeeding and the rules of the public sphere

In case you missed it, there has been some controversy in Australia over the last few days over the issue of public breastfeeding.

A mum in Queensland was breastfeeding her baby at a public pool while supervising her two elder children. A staff member approached her to say that another family had complained, because they were offended by her breastfeeding. She then asked her to move to a private area of the pool or cover up. The mother, rightly, refused and said that this demand was illegal discrimination. Nonetheless, the pool attendant insisted and so the mother ended up taking her three children and leaving the pool in tears.

On Friday, a morning television show, Sunrise, decided that it would be a great idea to debate the issue of whether breastfeeding in public is offensive and whether the pool did the right thing. [As an aside: do we often debate whether someone breaking the law and discriminating against another person did the right thing? Why is this OK when it comes to breastfeeding women?] One of the hosts of the show, David Koch (or Kochie, as he is apparently called), expressed the opinion that the pool had done the right thing and that if women are going to breastfeed in public then they ought to “be classy about it.” Later on Twitter, he explained that it was “just common courtesy” to “be disceet” when breastfeeding.

I have to admit that I have been enraged and baffled by these comments and by the comments of the many, many Australians (both male and female) who have come to his defence. However, an article in The Punch today has made a couple of things clearer to me.

As far as I can tell, the argument being made for why women ought to “be discreet” while breastfeeding in front of other people is that breastfeeding is a “private moment between Mum and baby” unlike when those same breasts are being publicly displayed for the male gaze. As Anthony Sharwood argued in his disturbing defence of David Koch’s “keep it classy” comments, this “private moment” shouldn’t be thrust into the public sphere because then it becomes a “spectacle” - a “public exhibition of motherhood.” He goes on to argue:

“Public breastfeeding has become, for some Mums, the last frontier of showy parenthood. What started as a private, intimate thing has become its exact opposite. … Women can breastfeed in public in western societies. Hooray for them. Now maybe we can just wind this thing back a notch and think of the rest of us.”

Despite his absurd and highly offensive accusations that women deliberately make a public spectacle of themselves by “flopping their boob” out in public, Sharwood, like Koch, never actually dares to articulate why us breastfeeding mothers need to “think of the rest of [them].” 

What is it about witnessing a breastfeeding pair that is so offensive to these people that it needs to be keep out of their sight?

What I think it is interesting is that Sharwood is very clear that this is not about the so-called “male gaze.” He is not offended because he views these breastfeeding breasts as sexual objects. In fact, as he proudly states several times in the opening paragraphs to his ‘article,’ he loves ogling at sexualised breasts. They are great. (Phwoar yeah, bring it on baby.) No, it would appear that the issue is precisely the opposite; these breastfeeding breasts that are apparently being thrust in his face (or, as he charmingly describes, flopped on to the dinner table) are not available to the male gaze. They are private breasts and shouldn’t be out in public.

It was here for me that this whole debate took on a disturbing level of clarity. You see, according to Sharwood (and his ilk), mothering is an ‘intimate’ and ‘private’ activity that should not be taking place in the public sphere. If somehow it does stray into that public sphere then it really ought to be careful not to become “a public spectacle.” This means that if for some reason a mother of young children does have to leave the house (which, by implication, is a transgresssive act in itself), then she should take every measure to ensure that her ‘private, intimate’ work of mothering young children does not take up public space, because it does not belong.

The public sphere is the world of men and people who can act like men; wage-earning, independent, unencumbered adults who pay their own way, speak the language of adults, move in adult ways and (crucially) obey the unwritten rules of the public sphere. This public sphere, and its unwritten rules, was created for men when women did stay at home and did do their “private, intimate” work of mothering in the private sphere.

We like to think that feminism has created a more equal society – one in which men and women are both welcome in the public sphere; in which both men and women’s issues are relevant to the public sphere. However, if you scratch a little deeper, it becomes clear that liberal feminism has only taken us so far. Women now have the right to join the public sphere, but the rules have not been significantly changed. The rules that were designed for men may have been slightly loosened so that women can obey them, but only if they unencumber themselves of their overt femininity.

Acts of overt femininity, particularly those involving small children, are still in clear breach of the rules. Breastfeeding is offensive because it thrusts the act of mothering into the public sphere. This is problematic, because not only can men not breastfeed, but they are also not parties to the act. Display your breasts for the “male gaze” and you are participating appropriately in the public sphere, because men are part of the transaction. They are, however, explicitly absent from the transaction of breastfeeding and that is precisely the problem. Ergo it is a private, intimate act between two creatures of the private sphere and if you dare to bring it into the male, public sphere then you had bloody well better be discreet about it.

I have been wondering for days now what “discreet” even means in the context of public breastfeeding. I now realise that what it means is that the woman in question must show through her body language that she knows that she is in breach of the rules of the public sphere. The specific position of her body, or her cover, is not really the issue. The issue is the body language of apology (I think the code word being used is modesty). She needs to show that she is sorry for taking up public space with her private activity. Then it would be OK. Then she could be excused.

Being proud or even nonplussed about breastfeeding our babies is an issue, not because we are being public exhibitionists, but because we are (even if we didn’t realise it) openly challenging the rules of the public sphere. We are being unapologetically, overtly female it what is still, essentially, a male space. That is what is so offensive – the brazen transgression of these long-standing, unwritten rules.

[As a final aside, it has also dawned on me that this is probably also at the heart of the ‘debate’ over whether small children should be allowed to be children in cafés, restaurants, etc… and why so-called “mommy blogging” is the object of such derision.]

Dear Charlie - 22 months

Dear Charlie

You turned 22 months old on the 2nd of August. It's been six months since I've written you a letter. Sorry little one.


We've had some huge changes over the last six months Charlie. Lily started school and you desperately wanted to join her. Then we tried a childcare for you - just three hours in the morning - and you really hated it and we bailed. But I still had to finish writing my PhD and so you spent more time with Papa and your Grandparents while I hid away in my funny cupboard study and eventually took myself off to the State library for a full week of full-time writing. Unlike childcare, you handled that really well. Although you did make up for the lost breastfeeeding time at night and I'm still suffering for that.

Finally, we packed up and moved from Melbourne (where we'd been for less than 9 months) to Hanoi. You've handled this transition well too. Although you have asked to go home on the plane a number of times. I'm hoping that when we move into our new house and get all our stuff it will be even easier.


In the last six months you've grown up so much. Your language is incredible. There is little that you cannot say now. You express yourself clearly and recite your favourite books from start to finish. You still mispronounce a few words, but I have to admit that these are my favourites. You say 'entient' for elephant, 'boon' for spoon, and 'gayfu' for thank you. You say 'gayfu' a lot too, as you have learned the value of being charming.

You remain a friendly, gregarious little soul. This is lucky because people treat you a bit like a rock star here in Hanoi. Your little head of blonde curls is a bit of a novelty, I guess. People gather around to touch your head and to seek cuddles from you. Sometimes you do give them a cuddle, but mostly you just smile and say "xin chao." I am looking forward to the day when you can speak more Vietnamese. I'm guessing you'll be better than me shortly.

You are quite a kooky, strong-minded person. You like to dress yourself and have very particular ideas about what you want to wear. You love to wear your backpack and pack it with things for "work." You also love beads (necklaces & bracelets), hair clips and head bands - much to the distress of people with very fixed idea of appropriate gender roles.

Another non-comformist preference of yours has been an enthusiastic interest in meat (we are a vegetarian family). Lately you have taken to crying at night, "I want meat!" (And I mean crying, with tears and all.) You have also insisted on trying a few different types of meat at the hotel breakfast buffet. You rejected ham as "yucky," but enjoyed both bacon and a chicken nugget. Earlier I would have found this really challenging, but for some reason I just find it amusing. I guess I'm mellowing... The real test will come when I have to decide whether to cook it for you. At least I know where to buy organic meat here, if it does come to that.

I'm looking forward to the next six months, little one. I hope to write you a few more letters between now and then.

love
mama
xox

Birth plan - a response to Mia Freedman

When I was pregnant with my first child I tried to do all the right things. I got a spot in the public Birth Centre and discussed my preference for a water birth with my midwife. I also attended the birth preparation classe (although I did leave one class before the subject of medical pain relief was discussed, because I'm scared of needles and figured that wouldn't change anytime soon). Besides, I told myself, labour only goes for a few hours, how bad could it be?

My midwife gave me a video of a water birth to watch to prepare for my own, but I felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of it all and never watched it. Instead I guzzled parenting books and focused on the long term - the task of parenting the baby I would be birthing.

It was early in the morning and 11 days past my due date when labour finally started. I was so over being pregnant and so ready to hold my baby that I greeted the pain warmly. I told my partner that my contractions had begun and we started to record them so we'd know when they were regular enough to justify going into the Birth Centre. Hours passed.

It was another 12 before we went into the Centre (arriving at 8pm) and 14 more before my beautiful baby girl was born. The pain and utter exhaustion shocked me. By 2am I'd been moved 'upstairs' (into the hospital) to have an epidural and collapsed into a grateful sleep. (My fear of needles quickly became irrelevant. I would have let them chop off my leg if they'd promised it would help).

When it was time for me to push they dialed back the epidural enough so that I could squat on the bed, but I couldn't feel my contractions and so timing the pushes was tricky. After two hours an obstetrician came in to check and told me that the baby's head was starting to swell. She was posterior and firmly wedged in my narrow pelvis. He recommended an emergency c-section or high forceps delivery. I chose the latter.

It took an hour for him to stitch my third degree tear, but I honestly didn't care as I was holding the most beautiful being in the world and high on the adrenaline of meeting her.

In the weeks that followed the pain did start to matter. It made it impossible for me to lift my newborn baby. Walking was also a challenge. Even sitting hurt. Worse still Lily had awful reflux and would bring up most of her feed in great gushes of breast milk, or scream in pain for hours when silent reflux came instead.

We were finally referred to a cranio-osteopath who found a deep indentation on her skull where the forceps had squashed her little head. It was pressing on the area of the brain responsible for assisting the body to digest fat and partly responsible for her reflux. After two treatments the projectile vomiting stopped.

My memories of the labour were raw for a long time, but I told myself there wasn't a lot I could have done differently. I told myself that posterior back pain and the length of the labour were not something I could have prepared for and I felt better.

That all changed when I fell pregnant again. Suddenly thinking that there was nothing I could have done made me feel powerless and worried. I didn't want to go through that again - particularly not the aftermath. Labour may only last a day, but the first few weeks of a baby's life are too precious to be dedicated to surgical recovery and pain.

The first thing that I did was to admit that actually I had totally failed to prepare for my first labour. I'd read almost nothing about it. I'd decided against medical pain relief (despite constant well-meaning advice from others to order it immediately) but had failed to inform myself about alternative coping methods. I'd basically stuck my head in the sand and hoped that it would just go away.

Then I started reading. The best resource that I found were Ina May Gaskin's books on birthing. The stories of other women's labours gave me inspiration for how I wanted mine to go. They also made me realise that I wanted more support. My partner had been amazing the first time around, but there were things that I didn't want to ask of him and others that he didn't know how to do. So we hired a doula who knew how to guide me through the birth process and could show me a whole range a ways to cope with my contractions and fear.

My experience of birthing Charlie was completely different to my experience of birthing Lily. Sure, some of that was due to the fact that he was my second, but far more significant was the fact that I had a plan. It wasn't a rigid script that had to be followed. It was a story that played out in my mind and carried me through the process.

With Lily's birth I was a passive agent in the process. I didn't prepare and came out the other end sore and bruised. It was like joining a marathon and forgetting to do any training beforehand. You can imagine how hard that marathon would be to run and how much you'd hurt the next day.

With Charlie's birth I decided to train first. I attended prenatal yoga and I trained my brain to relax into my contractions. I also gathered a support team around me. As a result the experience of the birth was genuinely exhilarating and, yes, empowering, and I carried that feeling of strength and joy into mothering my children.

I'm dismayed that anyone would describe me as a Birthzilla for planning to have a positive birth experience. I'm also flabbergasted that they could imply that it would have been better for my children if I had kept my head in the sand and handed over all agency to the hospital system. This kind of rhetoric is unhelpful at best and dangerous at worst.

Why do so many people think that women lose the right to control their bodies when they fall pregnant? Anti-choice activists are the worst offenders to my mind, but those who seek to control what pregnant women do with their bodies or how they birth their babies are buying into the same dangerous logic.

Making a plan for how you would like to birth your baby should not be controversial. To say that exercising choice over your body is a first world indulgence is highly problematic. It's even more galling when it's written by a highly privileged woman who is well-placed to expect the system to treat her with dignity and respect. That is not the luxury of all women in our country.

Letter to Lily - 60 months (5!)

Dear Lily

On the 14th of March you turned five.

FIVE!

Morning of 5th birthday

I can't quite believe how big you are.

I also can't believe that I haven't written you a letter for 2 and a half years. I couldn't possibly hope to capture everything that has happened in that time. You have grown up so much.

Let me try to capture some of the detail.

Toadstool cake

When you were around 2 & 3/4 I introduced you to the Magic Faraway Tree books and you have been hooked every since. You know them back-the-front and can recite large swaths of it from memory. We even celebrated your 4th birthday with an Enchanted Wood party. You dressed up as Silky.

'Riding' to preschool - day 3

Just before your third birthday you started preschool at Blue Gum Community School in Canberra. You really thrived. It was an excellent place - inspired by Reggio and Nature Education philosophies - and you really loved it. While you were there you learned to swing yourself on the swing (after spending the first few months monopolising one of the teachers to continuously push you). You discovered a deep love of art and learned some amazing techniques like felting and mosaic and clay sculpture. You also made some gorgeous friends.

Snuggles with Charlie

When you were 3 & 1/2 your little brother Charlie arrived into our lives. You adored him from the start, but I have to admit that the transition from being our only child to being one of two was far from an easy one. We clashed a lot and I handled many parts of this transition particularly badly. We are really only just finding our feet again on this front.

Singing at the farmers market, Collingwood Children's Farm

When you were 4 & 1/2 we moved to Melbourne. It was a huge thing for us to do and again the transition was pretty unsettling for you, but I think we have all dealt with it a lot better this time. You were very reluctant to leave Canberra, but really gave Melbourne a chance and found that you really enjoyed exploring a new city. You particularly love the Collingwood Children's Farm, the new cafes and restaurants, the trains and trams, and our new neighbourhood. You also started a new preschool 3/4 of the way into the school year and still managed to enjoy it and socialise. I think that is pretty impressive.

First day of school

Walking home from the train

Then in February this year you started primary school. Again you have really thrived, despite being almost the youngest in the class. You truly love school and the rhythm and predictability of the Steiner curriculum really suits you. You have even brought many aspects of it home. We now say a 'blessing' before our meal, have a 'nature table' in our loungeroom, and you have firmly requested that I sing to you when I want your attention (which feels odd, but actually works).

with Tinky (the guinea pig)

For your birthday this year we welcomed Tinky and Winky (the guinea pigs) into our home. They (and their paraphernalia) were your main birthday present from family and it has been lots of fun watching them grow and settle in to our house.

Jungle Cake

We kept your birthday party small this year, but went all out with decorations. It was quite fun changing the dining room into a jungle, and I also enjoyed making your wacky cake. You dressed up as a tiger (with mama-made ears & tail and plain black clothing for the rest), Charlie was a monkey (though arguably the costume was superfluous). It was lovely to see you having so much fun with your new school friends. 

As part of your birthday celebrations at school they went around the class and everyone said something that they like about you. Your teacher, Alison, told us that many children commented that you were a good friend. This rings true to me Lily and makes me very proud of the person you have grown up to be.

Along with being a good friend, you are also great company, generous, witty, articulate, curious, compassionate, loud, analytical, sensitive, highly energetic, kooky, artistic and possess an incredible memory. Oh, and I love you so very very much.

love mama

xox

Letter to Charlie - 16 months

Dear Charlie

On Thursday you turned 16 months old.

The last two months have been all about language for you. You have been learning at least one new word a day and have been very focused on communication. At times this has led to frustration, when you haven't had the words to express what you want, but generally it has been a great thing.

Your new appreciation for words has extended your love of books and you now have the patience to sit through longer storybooks. Your current favourites are 'Kisses for Daddy,' 'Meg and Mog,' 'I Spy in the Juggle,' 'Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes,' and 'Bumping and Bouncing.'

On the second-last page of Bumping and Bouncing two little people go for a pony ride. This is your favourite page and you have made it very clear to Papa, Lily and I that you are quite determined that you too will go for a pony ride AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. In the meantime you have had to be content with riding the rocking horse, which can you now do all by yourself. How did you get so big?

Other favourite activities of yours include 'jumping' on the trampoline (you can't quite jump yet, so instead you run around in crazy circles crashing into the barrier); being pushed on your swing; digging in the sandpit; water the plants; dressing up (particularly in necklaces, rainbow scarfs and Lily's clothes); drawing (mostly on paper); playdough (including the odd sneaky sample); turning anything and everything into cars that room around the floor; dancing; and going for a walk in the neighbourhood.

While strolling along our street you particularly like to push a toy along in the stroller; to stop and chat to the terracotta warrior in a neighbour's garden a few door's down; to pick the flowers that escape out from under people's fences; and to collect as many sticks as your little hands can carry home.

Last week was a bit dramatic. Papa and I had planned to nightwean you, because none of us were getting much sleep due to your habit of feeding all night. But when the time arrived I just couldn't face it and so I waved Papa away and fed you all night once again. The next day all that sleep deprivation finally caught up with me and I got quite sick. I struggled to feed you the following two nights and by Sunday morning Papa had to take me to hospital. And so you had your first night away from me after all and we nightweaned you by default. It's been an exhausting week for your poor Papa, but you have coped very well. There have been some tears at night, but you've shown no trace of distress during the day at all.

This morning Papa has taken you and Lily to the family day at Collingwood Children's Farm. They do pony rides and we are hoping they'll let you have a turn. I can't wait to see a photo.

love
mama
xo

Letter to Charlie - 14 months

Dear Charlie

Last week you turned 14 months old. It feels as though you have really turned a corner and are now a fully-fledged toddler. You walk, you run, you climb, you explore and you communicate - though not so much with fully-formed words as yet.

As usual with these huge developmental leaps, it has been so fascinating to see more of your personality emerge as you have learned all these new skills over the last two months. You have a very keen (cheeky) sense of humour and it is a lot of fun to see you use it to make yourself and others laugh. You still have a fantastic laugh!

You are really into music and rhythm. Lily has been keen on Mary Poppins lately and you started copying her 'tap dancing' to Step In Time. Now it is your thing. When you hear some groovy music, or even hear someone say 'Step In Time' you tend to launch into a full tap dancing routine. You do it with such intense concentration and your little legs move incredibly fast. It is almost unbearably cute.

You also love to hear us sing and have recently discovered which books contain songs and, when presented to an adult, will lead to singing. Last night you snuggled up on my lap and insisted that I read/sing a song book of about 20 songs to you four time in a row. I was only able to stop when you starting dropping off against my shoulder. You were captivated.

Papa had to go to Africa for work recently and your grandparents came down to stay with us for a while. When Grandma Meg was here and Lil was at preschool we walked around the corner with you to our local cafe. I let you walk the whole way since you clearly didn't want to be carried and it seemed to open up a world of possibility in your mind. Since then you have been on ready alert for the front gate to open. When it does you try to shoot out so that you can go for a stroll in the neighbourhood. I often let you and just follow along behind you. You like to stop and the pick flowers the grow out from under the fences and generally give the street a fairly close inspection. I can see why you are keen on it.

Another passion of yours is watering the plants (and the pavers, the trampoline, yourself...). As soon as we get outside (which you beg to do as soon as you get up) you trot over and grab a watering can. If it has rained the night before you then use it to collect water from the cover of your sandpit. Otherwise you bring it to me (or Papa), saying "More?" until we fill it up for you from the tap. You generally start out by watering the veggies, but within minutes you also manage to water yourself thoroughly. It has certainly increased the laundry pile, but you enjoy it so much that I can't bring myself to refuse.

As always Charlie, it's been a pleasure hanging out with you. Your sunny, calm disposition brings a lovely balance to our household and it is so fun to watch you explore and learn so many new things every day.

love,
mama
xo

Letter to Charlie - 12 months

Dear Charlie

You are almost 13 months old now. It has taken me so long to write your letter.

The last few months have been a bit of a blur, Charlie. We packed up our house in Canberra, stayed with your grandmas and then moved down to Melbourne. As if all that wasn't enough, right when we were about to settle in to our new place and host a little birthday party for you, I scooped you up and flew back to Canberra to spend some time with your great-grandfather before he died. And so, quite unexpectedly, you spent your first birthday with family after-all (but no party).

Your Uncle Jono also travelled to Canberra to see Papa Phil, and Aunty Nattie and your big cousin Amira came with him. You and Amira had a fantastic time playing together. Watching someone almost your age (well, exactly twice your age, as it happens) walking around seemed to inspire you and so you took your first steps the day after your birthday. Your grandpa and your great-grandparents got to watch too, which was nice.

You continue to be a sunny, happy little person Charlie. You love to laugh and to make other people laugh with you. You love to eat and have become very adept at feeding yourself up in your high chair. You now rarely tip your food everywhere until you have become bored with it. You also love to drink water, which I think is fabulous. You love music and will often sing along to tunes that take your fancy. You love your big sister, although you do think that hitting her is a good way of starting play and she isn't so sure about that.

You are obsessed with being outdoors. You beg to go outside immediately upon waking. You are most fond of digging in your sandpit, but enjoying being pushed on the swing or crawling about on the trampoline with Lil (or digging up the veggie patch, eating dirt, filling the watering can full of gravel, trying to ride the little bike, pushing the cart around, banging things on your tool bench...).

You are also quite obsessed with birds, especially crows, and would watch them all day if given the opportunity. When we stayed with your grandmas they had a crow that had become a little focused on pecking their bedroom window. For them this was annoying, but for you it was fantastic. You begged constantly to be taken to the window to watch for this crow, saying "Aaah Aaah" and pointing furiously towards that end of the house. Your grandmas were most obliging and took you on many birds hunts, both indoors and out. Now when you see them you also expect to see birds. "Aaah Aaah?" you will say and virtually leap into their arms. My Mum has started calling herself "Bird girl" as a result.

Although you took your first steps a few weeks ago it wasn't until the other night that you worked out how to actually walk. Something clicked in your head and you figured out how to stand up unassisted, to walk, to stop, to turn around and then to keep walking again. The look on your little face was priceless. You were so pleased, so proud. I love those moments.

You haven't been quite so focused on language and don't really have many more words than you did at 10 months. Although you are remarkably good at communicating your needs with your current handful of sounds. "Meh" means variously milk, water, food, or more of what ever you were just doing and enjoying. "Ba" means outside or going into another room. And then you have Mama, Papa/Dada, Lily, and an random array of animal noises, including "Aaah Aaah" for birds. You have also said Grandpa and Grandma before, but only a few times.

We won't discuss sleep, except to say that I hope you become a little better at it soon.

I love you so much Charlie. Thank you for bringing so much sunshine into our lives.

love
mama
xox

Fairy house

We've had a lot of freezing cold, cloudy days this winter and have spent far too much time indoors as a result. But today was glorious. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and it actually felt kind of warm (for winter).

So we spent some time in our garden, playing on the swings, digging in the dirt and building a fairy house.

I have been meaning to build a fairy house with Lil for ages, but I always think that I need more time and stuff. Of course that's ridiculous. She got right into it with the aid of leaves, sticks, flowers, shells and berries - all of which were not only right in the garden, but right in the very spot where she chose to build the little house.

I have to admit that I'm not the best at playing (I get sooo bored of 'mums and dads'), but I really enjoyed this too.

Charlie: 8 months

Dear Charlie

You are now 8 months old. What a difference two months makes in the life of a bubba! At six months you were my mellow little zen master. Now you are a determined, adventurous, impatient little bundle of energy. What happened?

Well, to start with, you mastered the art of crawling at 6 and a half months. A week later you figured out how to pull yourself up to standing. Then a few days later you worked out how to cruise along the furniture. Since then you seem to have decided that since you can move, you must, all the time.

Nappy changes have become a bit of an ordeal as you object, fervently, to remaining remotely still. The car and the stroller are no longer your friend. No, you must move, explore and discover, even in the middle of the night. Oh Charlie, it's been a bit of a full on two months.

It's also been pretty incredible to watch you develop so quickly from a baby to a mobile little person. Your determination is inspiring and I love watching you explore the world with such intense curiosity. Currently you are obsessed figuring out the mechanics of your food. You examine the teat of your water bottle with incredible focus and perform all sorts of experiments in order to understand how the water comes through. You do the same with any food that you are given too, which can get rather messy at times. Unfortunately you are also determined to perform the same thorough examination of my nipples and I haven't been very supportive of this endeavour. Some things are just going to have to remain a mystery little one.

Another obsession of yours in our stairs. We have a rather steep, wooden staircase in our house that you have just worked out how to climb. It is terrifying to watch you do it, but I don't have the heart to stop you once you have succeeded in getting to it. Fortunately it comes off the entryway and there is no reason for it to be open all the time. Of course, if anyone leaves that door open for the merest second then you are off and racing. When this does occur your sense of pride and achievement at reaching the top is almost worth the stress.

Winter came early to Canberra this year and brought a world of germs to our household. For the last month you have been a snuffly little thing. We have all been sick, actually, which has made us a rather tired, grumpy household. Fortunately when your good moods have been with us they have been as radiant as ever and have provided a glimmer of sunshine for all of us in what has been a bit of an ordinary month.

A daily guarantee of Charlie-happiness has been bath time. You continue to love the bath and hearing the water running has the power to drive away any Charlie-sadness. Once in the bathroom you will try to throw your body into the bath, while kicking your legs in excitement at the prospect of the joy to come. Now that you can sit up by yourself you are a little less focused on flooding the bathroom and will now play with toys instead. Of course, now that you can crawl and stand you try to do this in the bath too, and that hasn't always turned out so well.

The other morning I went into Lily's room to give her a good morning snuggle and she turned to me and said: "Isn't Charlie amazing, Mama? We are so lucky to have him."

She's quite right little one, you are amazing and we really do feel so lucky to have you here.

I can't wait to see what you do over the next couple of months. I fear that walking is not far away...

with all my love,
mama
xox

He's wearing pink socks!

I went shopping the other day with Charlie and while we were waiting in a checkout line the woman in front of me struck up conversation.

"How old is your baby?" she asked, as Charlie started his charm offensive.

"4 months," I said.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked. (Wouldn't it be nice if there was another pronoun? 'It' just sounds so odd.)

"He's a boy. Charlie," I replied, hoping that by giving him a name we could move on to talking about him as an individual, rather than as a gender class.

"It's hard to tell," she said, pausing for a moment. "Do you have a girl as well?" she asked in a knowing tone.

"Yes," I replied.

"'Cause he's wearing pink socks," she said.

I felt like saying, "He was wearing a pink jumpsuit earlier today and his penis didn't even fall off!" But instead I just smiled nervously, hoping that our conversation was now over.

Remedial feminism needed

My mum dropped over the other evening and Lily asked her where her partner was.

"She's still at work," replied Mum.

"Why," asked Lily.

"She's not on holidays like you," replied Mum. "Today was a work day for us."

"Ladies don't work," said Lily.

"What!?" I said. "Of course they do."

"Mama doesn't," said Lil to Mum.

"Yes she does," replied Mum. "She works at home looking after Charlie and you, and she works on her PhD. Some people work at home looking after small children and other people work outside the home."

"You know T? Well, her papa looks after her at home and her mama works in an office."

"And who looks after M and E?" I asked.

"Matt," replied Lil.

"And what does Claire do?"

"She works with papa," replied Lil.

...

And so it went, but oh my goodness! I can't believe she said those words!

First of all, why "ladies"? I always call women, women. Where does she get "ladies" from? It's such a horrible restrictive word.

Secondly, bloody invisible PhD, you're always causing trouble.

Thirdly, argh. I'm totally going to have to get a job (once Charlie's bigger).

[And I still don't want to talk about the Pink Disney Princess Lunchbox.]

Introducing Charlie

Charlie arrived into the world on Saturday 2 October at 11:45am. He was born in the bath into the waiting arms of his mama after what I'd have to describe as a pretty good labour.

Warning: Long Post
(Feel free to just look at the photos)

Prelabour contractions had started the weekend before, but were not strong enough to demand my attention until Thursday night. I went to bed hoping for action during the night, but woke up a little disappointed. After breakfast we all went for a walk to the park and I walked around on uneven surfaces to try to get things moving, but by 9am it was clear that Charlie was planning to take his time and so I told P to go to work.

After P had gone, my Dad came over to look after Lily and they went out to the city to do some shopping. I busied myself in the kitchen baking focaccia and mixing a birthday cake for Charlie (the carrot, coconut & macadamia nut cake from Vegan with a Vengeance), stopping every now and then to manage the contradictions which were starting to get stronger.

Dad and Lily returned from town and we all had lunch together of fresh focaccia and salad. I put the cake in the oven, hoping...

After lunch I sat out in the sunshine that afternoon watching Lil play with Dad. Around 3pm we sat down to have cake for afternoon tea and my contradictions became intense enough to require most of my attention, but were still around 10 minutes apart.

Dad and Lil sat down to watch some Playschool in the late afternoon and I had a nap. I also called P to ask him to bring home some spicy Indian food for dinner (from Blu Ginger).

Dad headed off around 4:30pm and I gave Lily some early dinner. She was unfazed when I had to turn my attention to my contractions, which helped to make then seem less important.

At around 5:30pm P came home with dinner. I added lime pickle to the curries and every time I had a really spicy mouthful my contractions would intensify. This seemed like a good thing.

P got Lily ready for bed and (most unusually) I did the dishes in order to have something to focus on.

I snuggled Lily to sleep (like I do every night) and breathed through the contractions in bed and then sat on the couch with P while he rubbed my back. By 8pm I was having to stand and lean on the arm of the couch to deal with my contractions, which had become pretty strong (but were still only 10 minutes apart). P started to get up with me and rub my lower back through each contraction, which really helped. Then he thought of pressing on my hips, which was even better as it was starting to feel like my pelvic bone was being forced open (which, of course, it was).

By 9:00pm I decided to text my doula, Vickie, and my Mum to give them some warning and to allow them to get an early night (just in case). The contractions continued to come only 10 minutes apart though and so at 9:30pm I thought that I had better try to get some sleep.

I took two panadeine forte and lay down in bed while P continued to rub my back. When the contractions came I rolled over on to a pillow, circling my hips and breathing through the pain. Within half an hour I could feel the codeine in my system. I started to feel slightly nauseous and heavy and worried for a moment that I had only made things worse, but then I drifted off to sleep. P went to sleep in Lily's bed (as he has for the last few months).

I woke up around 2:30am. The pain killers were starting to wear off and I had to concentrate again to get through each contraction. They were still 10 minutes apart and I decided to stay in bed and to try to sleep between each wave. This worked until around 3:30am when I was working too hard to sleep at all, but talked myself into staying in bed to get a bit more rest.

I managed to stay in bed until 5am when the contractions were just too strong to handle lying down. I got up and made myself a bowl of cereal. While I was eating it I wrote a shopping list for the farmers markets. For some strange reason I thought that P might still have the chance to go and buy our fruit and veg for the week...

It was still and peaceful in the early morning light and I felt quite calm despite the growing intensity of each contraction. I worked through a few of them by leaning over the kitchen table, but decided to move into the loungeroom in order to use the Swiss Ball instead and rest my legs a little. I knelt in front of the ball and used it to help me rotate my hips through each contraction. In between each wave I rested my head on it and tried to sleep a little in order to preserve my energy. I was surprised to find myself drifted off every now and then.

At 6am I sent my Mum a text message to ask her and her partner, A, to come over to look after Lily so that I could monopolise P's attention. By 7am, when P woke up, I hadn't heard back from Mum and so I asked P to call her. She had just looked at her phone and was getting ready to come over.

Lily got up around then and we all sat down in the kitchen for breakfast. I left the room for my next contraction, but had to lean on the kitchen table again for the following one. Lil wanted to know why I was leaning on the table and, after the contraction had peaked, I explained that my back hurt and that leaning on the table helped me to feel better. She decided that her back was sore too and to join me. Laughing at her made everything feel a lot less intense.

Mum and A came over while we were finishing breakfast. I had a contraction just as A walked in the door and wasn't able to greet her, which felt odd, but she just walked passed quietly and went to entertain Lily in her bedroom.

I stayed in the kitchen with P who was now free to rub my back and hips through each contraction, which helped so much. I was starting to find it hard not to vocalise loudly and was a little disappointed when Lil decided not to go to the Farmers Markets with Mum and A.

We gave A our market shopping list and Mum stayed behind to look after Lil. I moved back into the lounge room in order to lean over the Swiss Ball again. At one point Lil came in and wanted to know why I was leaning on the Swiss Ball. I explained that it helped my back and she informed me that her back was still quite sore and that she'd like to use it. Once again laughing at her calmed me right down, but I was glad that she didn't keep the ball for very long.

By 8:30am my contractions were getting really strong and Mum started talking to Lily about going over to her place for a play. I also asked P to call Vickie to ask her to come over, but then got all indecisive while he was on the phone and ended up saying we'd call her back. (I'm not sure why, in retrospect. I have a horrible feeling that I was trying not to be a burden!) But it wasn't long before I asked P to call her back to ask her to come over.

A returned with the market shopping just before 9am and Mum and Lil were able to head off. As soon as they were out of the house I started to vocalise loudly through each contraction and found that it helped so much. I was amused to realise that I sounded just like an elephant at one point after years of failing to make a good elephant noise for Lil.

Vickie arrived around 9:20am while I was having a contraction. They were coming on very strongly now and she remarked that labour seemed to be pretty established. Within a few contractions I started to sob as I became overwhelmed by the pain. (I know now that I was transitioning, but had no idea at the time). At that point Vickie suggested that we think about heading into the birth centre pretty quickly. Looking back at my (long, painful posterior) labour with Lil I realised that I'd gone in too soon last time and I was determined not to make that mistake again and told Vickie my concerns. She reassured me that it wasn't too soon this time around and so I agreed to head in.

Vickie called Gill, my midwife, who said that she would go into the birth centre and start running the bath. P started to get the car ready, while Vickie stayed with me and massaged my back through each contraction, while encouraging me to vocalise and breathe deeply.

Last time the car ride had been horrific, as I anxiously watched each turn from the front seat and waited fearfully for each contraction to hit me. This time I knelt backwards on the back seat with my head resting on a pillow. I also kept my eyes closed and was able to move and breathe through each contraction. It was a much better trip as a result.

We arrived at the birth centre at 10:30am. I sat down on the couch and Vickie dimmed the lights and started to burn some essential oils. I was amazed by how good the scent of the oils made me feel. When the next contraction hit I knelt on a mat on the floor and leaned over a bean bag. Gill suggested that I move into the bath.

Again I was determined not to get into the bath 'too soon' as I had done during my labour with Lily and expressed my concerns, but Gill reassured me that this was a good time to get in. P put on his board shorts and sat on the edge of the bath while I knelt on a foam pad, leaning forward over his knees. This enabled me to move through each contraction and to lie forward and rest in between. Vickie turned off the lights and put on a couple of tea lights instead. She also put on some calm music and brought in the oil burner. It was incredible what a different this made to the atmosphere in the room and to my capacity to deal with the pain.

Not long after getting in the water my contractions seemed to slow down a little and I was a bit concerned until Vickie mentioned to P that things had slowed down because Charlie's head was molding. I had been thinking that I might be going into second stage, but didn't want to get my hopes up and decided to keep thinking that I should pace myself to keep going until dinner time. Gill and Vickie left us alone in the bathroom and I started to feel all emotional, telling P how much I loved him over and over.

Not long after I started to feel strong pressure during my contractions and could feel myself starting to push. Vickie came in and suggested that I focus my energy down through my vocalisations. As I controlled my screams into grunts I could feel my pushes start to become more effective. I didn't experience this part of labour with Lily (as I'd had an epidural by this point) and as the intense pressure built up in my pelvis I decided that this was probably a good thing. I have heard that some women prefer the second stage of labour, but I found it unbelievably painful.

I could feel Charlie moving through the birth canal and it wasn't all that long before his head was pushing out. Gill was using a mirror and torch to see what was happening and I felt like saying "his head's about to come out," but I continued to be paranoid about getting my hopes up and so I kept quiet (well, about that, I was doing plenty of grunting and screaming during contractions).

Soon I could feel Charlie's head pushing through. It stung like mad and felt totally wrong, but I also started to feel excited that we were about to meet our baby boy. After his head had come out there was a brief pause and then I pushed the rest of him out with the next contraction. Gill told me to reach down and pick him up and so I did, amazed that I could 'catch' my own baby. As I pulled him out of the water I noticed that his cord was wrapped around his neck and told Gill who gently took it off. I held our gorgeous little boy to my chest and he began to scream. At least we knew that he was breathing!


It was 11:45am, only 75 minutes after we'd arrived at the birth centre.

We asked Vickie to call Mum so that she could bring Lily in to meet her little brother. Apparently she had to be told that Charlie had actually been born before she could be convinced to leave the fun at Grandma's house. She hadn't been there very long.

Gill pulled a mat into the bathroom and piled some pillows up against the bath and then P helped me up with Charlie still in my arms so that I could birth the placenta on the mat. I'd decided not to have the injection of Syntocinon and was glad that it only took 15 minutes, and a couple more contractions, for this to be over.

From there I took Charlie to the bed and soon after he was having his first breastfeed. Lily arrived shortly after and came in to meet her little brother. It was love at first sight.