When my daughter Jada was a baby, probably six months or so, we were at the Bread Company with my in-laws. A woman at another table became infatuated with my baby girl’s chubby cheeks and killer smile. She eyed me for a while before bolding asking if Jada was adopted. When I cautiously nodded, her face lit up even more.
Jada herself has always been drawn to African American faces. She stared and smiled at the woman mercilessly, batting her thick black eyelashes over dark coal colored irises. The woman was sunk.
I expected her to ask to hold her and readily agreed when she did. I did not expect the hundred dollars she gave me when she returned my baby to my arms.
“Don’t try to give it back.” She told me. “God is telling me to do this. Buy something fun for her.”
I did. The next day I got her the most fabulous exer-saucer I’d ever seen. I’d been eyeing it for weeks. It moved horizontally on parallel bar like tables full of noisy baby friendly toys. I loved it and so did Jada. I emailed a thank you to the woman. She replied if I ever needed anything, just let her know.
I never spoke to her again. Jada grew up and grew out of the toy. I re-gifted it to someone. I don’t even remember who. I wish I could say that I think of the woman from the restaurant and her gift a lot, but I don’t. It’s a story I’ll tuck away for when Jada is older and can understand. It’s another link in the chain of her cultural identity. I know it doesn’t seem like a big one, but it is.
You see the woman had identified herself with Jada. She’s seen this beautiful black child and wanted to give my baby something from her. If Jada had been a White baby or an Asian baby or a Hispanic baby, she may have smiled at her, but she wouldn‘t have felt connected enough to pull a hundred dollar bill from her wallet and give it to me.
She saw my black baby, and wanted to give her a gift from a black woman. That’s something I’ve treasured long after the amazing baby toy has served it’s purpose. That’s something my daughter will come to know. It’s something that will help her become the strong black woman that I alone can’t guide her to be.
She’s guided by the stranger in a Bread-co, my coworker who politely informed me that four is to old for afro-poofs.(Tammy you were right.), in the women who stop when I’m looking lost in the hair care isle to tell me what they use on their babies heads.
She is guided by the cover of every magazine this December, proudly displaying our uniquely lovely first lady. It happens every time she touches a picture of Sasha and whispers ‘She’s brown like me’. I see it dawn on her in mysterious ways, when she realized her own babies would not be pink like her brother, but brown like her.
“Will you hold my brown babies Grandma?” She asked innocently, pushing back the braids of her Barbie, squealing in delight when my mother told her she would be honored.
There will be hard times. She will hear racially motivated jokes, receive stares, frowns and questions she might not find as unobtrusive as I do. She is already starting to see it. She over heard on television that people might be scared of Barack Obama because of his color. She watched intently, I held my breath. She turned to me, dark eyes blinking curiously.
“I’m brown and I’m not scary.” She told me absolutely. I had to agree. She’s captivating.
When we adopted transracially, we were told to prepare. People would judge. People of every race would have negative comments. People would not accept her as black or white. Luckily, that has not been our reality. It’s happened a few times, but not often. I’ve mostly found it to be the another way.
I was told prepared for division, not unity. I certainly wasn’t prepared for a hundred dollars from a stranger. I wish I remembered her name. I wish I still had her business card. I’d like to show her the amazing girl my curly haired baby is today. I’d like to thank her for helping me be a better mother to her.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Um.. what the hell happened to the secret service?
Okay.. so I like Rachel Maddow had many emotions in watching the President get a shoe lobbed at him.
Yes. I agree with what the statement the guy was making. I get his frustration.
BUT hellooo? You just chucked your shoe at my President. Come on now. More than anything though all I could think was where the hell was the secret service?!
If they can't protect Jr. from a shoe how are they going to protect my guy from all the crazies out there? I just took a poll on AOL not that long ago that asked how much faith I had in the secret service's ability to protect President-elect Obama. I rated them pretty high. Ask me today, I think I've changed my mind!
The best part of what I have to say is a pretty funny video, (the way Jr. dodged, the smirk he had when he did.. all funny..) was the secret service agent stumbling onto the stage after the second shoe has cleared the podium. Are you kidding me?
Isn't there a guy who's job is solely to jump in front of the President when the shit hits the fan? (Or the shoe.. what ever the case may be..) Don't these guys watch the West Wing? Or the video from the Regan shooting? You dive for the guy! Even I know that.
Fella's.. I know he's a dumb ass. I know you're all sick of him and all of the little nicknames he has for you. (I'm guessing Shades or Blocker Guy or something equally stupid) We all get it.. but the new guy. Oh lord the new guy.. he's special. He's destiny.
And he needs you on your toes. So think of it as PT okay?
Yes. I agree with what the statement the guy was making. I get his frustration.
BUT hellooo? You just chucked your shoe at my President. Come on now. More than anything though all I could think was where the hell was the secret service?!
If they can't protect Jr. from a shoe how are they going to protect my guy from all the crazies out there? I just took a poll on AOL not that long ago that asked how much faith I had in the secret service's ability to protect President-elect Obama. I rated them pretty high. Ask me today, I think I've changed my mind!
The best part of what I have to say is a pretty funny video, (the way Jr. dodged, the smirk he had when he did.. all funny..) was the secret service agent stumbling onto the stage after the second shoe has cleared the podium. Are you kidding me?
Isn't there a guy who's job is solely to jump in front of the President when the shit hits the fan? (Or the shoe.. what ever the case may be..) Don't these guys watch the West Wing? Or the video from the Regan shooting? You dive for the guy! Even I know that.
Fella's.. I know he's a dumb ass. I know you're all sick of him and all of the little nicknames he has for you. (I'm guessing Shades or Blocker Guy or something equally stupid) We all get it.. but the new guy. Oh lord the new guy.. he's special. He's destiny.
And he needs you on your toes. So think of it as PT okay?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
This just in: Barrack Obama wants to kill babies.
I want to smack Fred Thompson.
The Born Alive act, in short sounds like a no brainer, a baby born alive, be it from botched abortion or traumatic event, shall be given medical care.
Who's not for saving babies?
BARACK OBAMA.
That's it, our secrets out. It's what the democrats didn't want you to know. The fatal flaw of our dream candidate. He hates babies. He wants them to die. Just ask Fred Thompson, he'll tell you.
Let me explain something about me. I am pro-life. (Believe me, no one was more surprised then I was at 19.) I also worked in the 6th best NICU in the United States for two years. I have seen amazing things. Miracles that I cannot describe seemed to happen every day. With those miracles came tragedy that I do not care to relive.
This 'act' is an example of when people who don't understand the reality of the situation, making the rules for people who do. If the Born Alive act were to be law, all babies born with a heart rate, respiration attempts or movement, would have to be vigorously resuscitated.
The gestational age of viability is on average 23 weeks, and even at this age, it is an uphill battle. These babies struggle, the caregivers struggle, the parents struggle. We save some, we loose some. We celebrate and cry. A lot of the time, these babies can't live. A lot of the time we do terrible things to them to try and help them live. It is at it's best, innovative medicine and at it's worst , baby torture. Remember, I am talking about the babies that have a chance. Every now and again, we get a baby that's under the age of viability. A twenty two weeker that was thought to be older, a 19 weeker born in an ambulance. These babies cannot survive. In most cases the OBGYN will allow mom to spend time holding and talking to her child.
Under the Born Alive Act, we would be forced to treat these babies anyway. They would be moved to another floor, or in most cases, another hospital or city completely. If they made it through the multi-thousand dollar trip, they would be rushed to a waiting team of health care professionals who will swarm around the infant. We would be forced to put adhesive leads on them that will peel their thin skin off of their battered bodies. We would have to force open their tiny mouths and shove metal instruments into them so that we can push a tube down into their treachas so that we can force oxygen into their under developed lungs. They will suffer a pulmonary hemorrhage, or simply not be able use their lungs at all.
They could suffer painful intestinal failure, their intestines could rupture, or just rot. We would have to pump them with medications that keep their heart beating. We would have to code them, doing chest compressions that would leave them bruised and bleeding. We would pump them full of epi, bicarb and blood. To do this we would poke them with needles to get access, digging catheters into their heads leaving ugly bruises.
And then they'd die, because they are too little. They can't survive. They can't. Believe me I wish they could. I have loved babies that had no chance. I have held them after they passed and cried with their families. It's awful, but it's life in the NICU.
We cannot force these babies to live, so why can't we hold them in our arms as they go peacefully?
I understand why we want this law. We picture pretty pink babies with so much hope and promise dying senselessly. All because the pro-abortion baby haters want them to. We don't want to look at the reality.
Barack Obama says he voted 'present', a non vote, on this issue because Illinois law already covered situations such as the one that 'Born Alive' was proposed to solve. He did not see why his state needed to have another law that did not take into consideration the situations I have spoken of.
I have to agree.
But hey, that's cause he's my guy. Maybe that's why he voted 'present'. Maybe he, like me, couldn't stomach this bill.
Maybe Fred Thompson should pull a night shift in the NICU.
The Born Alive act, in short sounds like a no brainer, a baby born alive, be it from botched abortion or traumatic event, shall be given medical care.
Who's not for saving babies?
BARACK OBAMA.
That's it, our secrets out. It's what the democrats didn't want you to know. The fatal flaw of our dream candidate. He hates babies. He wants them to die. Just ask Fred Thompson, he'll tell you.
Let me explain something about me. I am pro-life. (Believe me, no one was more surprised then I was at 19.) I also worked in the 6th best NICU in the United States for two years. I have seen amazing things. Miracles that I cannot describe seemed to happen every day. With those miracles came tragedy that I do not care to relive.
This 'act' is an example of when people who don't understand the reality of the situation, making the rules for people who do. If the Born Alive act were to be law, all babies born with a heart rate, respiration attempts or movement, would have to be vigorously resuscitated.
The gestational age of viability is on average 23 weeks, and even at this age, it is an uphill battle. These babies struggle, the caregivers struggle, the parents struggle. We save some, we loose some. We celebrate and cry. A lot of the time, these babies can't live. A lot of the time we do terrible things to them to try and help them live. It is at it's best, innovative medicine and at it's worst , baby torture. Remember, I am talking about the babies that have a chance. Every now and again, we get a baby that's under the age of viability. A twenty two weeker that was thought to be older, a 19 weeker born in an ambulance. These babies cannot survive. In most cases the OBGYN will allow mom to spend time holding and talking to her child.
Under the Born Alive Act, we would be forced to treat these babies anyway. They would be moved to another floor, or in most cases, another hospital or city completely. If they made it through the multi-thousand dollar trip, they would be rushed to a waiting team of health care professionals who will swarm around the infant. We would be forced to put adhesive leads on them that will peel their thin skin off of their battered bodies. We would have to force open their tiny mouths and shove metal instruments into them so that we can push a tube down into their treachas so that we can force oxygen into their under developed lungs. They will suffer a pulmonary hemorrhage, or simply not be able use their lungs at all.
They could suffer painful intestinal failure, their intestines could rupture, or just rot. We would have to pump them with medications that keep their heart beating. We would have to code them, doing chest compressions that would leave them bruised and bleeding. We would pump them full of epi, bicarb and blood. To do this we would poke them with needles to get access, digging catheters into their heads leaving ugly bruises.
And then they'd die, because they are too little. They can't survive. They can't. Believe me I wish they could. I have loved babies that had no chance. I have held them after they passed and cried with their families. It's awful, but it's life in the NICU.
We cannot force these babies to live, so why can't we hold them in our arms as they go peacefully?
I understand why we want this law. We picture pretty pink babies with so much hope and promise dying senselessly. All because the pro-abortion baby haters want them to. We don't want to look at the reality.
Barack Obama says he voted 'present', a non vote, on this issue because Illinois law already covered situations such as the one that 'Born Alive' was proposed to solve. He did not see why his state needed to have another law that did not take into consideration the situations I have spoken of.
I have to agree.
But hey, that's cause he's my guy. Maybe that's why he voted 'present'. Maybe he, like me, couldn't stomach this bill.
Maybe Fred Thompson should pull a night shift in the NICU.
Enbedded reporting from the Mommy Wars
Oh God I hate this war. Let me tell you I am worlds worst feminist. I just don't have it in me. I would make Geraldine Ferraro cry. I love being the woman behind the man.
I'm that right now when I my son and I go to our volunteer job at the Obama Campaign. I work for a extremely smart man who will be more than his share responsible if Missouri goes democrat in November. The man can't get online without my help half the time and I love that.
I call it 'Donna Moss Syndrome'. She was assistant to the deputy chief of staff on Aaron Sorkin's The West Wing. He couldn't do a damn thing with out Donna. He got all the glory, she got all the satisfaction. That's the way it is with me. Honestly, it doesn't have to be a man. The other campaign staffer in my office is a woman and I love her too, but she can log onto the Internet just fine.
I cannot think of one time in my life I was treated unfairly because I was a woman. I cannot think of one job I didn't get, or opportunity I missed out on because a man less or equally as qualified got it.
What I do know is, my children need their mother. Let me explain, my ex-husband and I co-parent. Our time and resources are more or less equal. I have them slightly more, but he's no every other weekend kind of Dad. My daughter's adore him. They delight when he comes through the door at night to tuck them in. They spent the whole summer raving over the trips they took, the laps they swam and the games they played.
But when the shit hits the fan, they cry for their mother. Tim knows their pediatrician, but I know the questions we need to ask him. He knows their teachers, but I am the one who emails them reminders about food allergies and homework disasters. He knows what they love, and I know why.
Because I'm their mother.
My son follows me around the room with his eyes now. If I leave he cries. When I come back he smiles, and so it goes. He comes to my 'work' with me every week . I am his world, because I am his mother.
I'm getting at all of this because a friend of mine asked me what I thought of Sarah Palin. What I thought of her is such a loaded question. I am a democrat. I am a fierce Obama supporter and admittedly crappy feminist. I do love politics though and sometimes I allow myself to fantasize about being in the Senate, being Governor, being CEO, being a writer, or even just going back to my old job as a med tech.
But right now I'm a mom.
Right now I am at the bus stop, the birthday parties, the pediatrician, and the brownie meetings. Right now I begrudgingly serve breakfast at seven thirty am despite wanting to sleep another hour or two. Right now I suffer through yet another Chuck E Cheese party, yet another episode of Hannah Montana, yet another exciting game of 'where's the baby? there's the baby!!!'.
Because I'm the mom.
I can't be Vice President, or Senator, or CEO or a med tech, because I have a baby. I have a daughter with crazy food allergies and asthma. I have a sassy seven year old who needs to be taught when sarcasm is okay and when it's not. I have a sweet little four year old who's birth mother I promised I'd be there for.
I am a mom and that's important. It's enough. It's what I agreed to be when I became pregnant with my oldest seven and a half years ago.
I'm not saying don't work. Some people have to, some want to. I'm saying I won't put my kids off on a nanny or daycare. I won't shuffle them off to latchkey or grandma's.
I'm saying I'll live on less, I'll go without, so that they can have me.
I'm saying at 31, when faced with an unplanned pregnancy, I needed my mom.
At 17 I would have been lost without her.
That's all I'm saying.
I'm that right now when I my son and I go to our volunteer job at the Obama Campaign. I work for a extremely smart man who will be more than his share responsible if Missouri goes democrat in November. The man can't get online without my help half the time and I love that.
I call it 'Donna Moss Syndrome'. She was assistant to the deputy chief of staff on Aaron Sorkin's The West Wing. He couldn't do a damn thing with out Donna. He got all the glory, she got all the satisfaction. That's the way it is with me. Honestly, it doesn't have to be a man. The other campaign staffer in my office is a woman and I love her too, but she can log onto the Internet just fine.
I cannot think of one time in my life I was treated unfairly because I was a woman. I cannot think of one job I didn't get, or opportunity I missed out on because a man less or equally as qualified got it.
What I do know is, my children need their mother. Let me explain, my ex-husband and I co-parent. Our time and resources are more or less equal. I have them slightly more, but he's no every other weekend kind of Dad. My daughter's adore him. They delight when he comes through the door at night to tuck them in. They spent the whole summer raving over the trips they took, the laps they swam and the games they played.
But when the shit hits the fan, they cry for their mother. Tim knows their pediatrician, but I know the questions we need to ask him. He knows their teachers, but I am the one who emails them reminders about food allergies and homework disasters. He knows what they love, and I know why.
Because I'm their mother.
My son follows me around the room with his eyes now. If I leave he cries. When I come back he smiles, and so it goes. He comes to my 'work' with me every week . I am his world, because I am his mother.
I'm getting at all of this because a friend of mine asked me what I thought of Sarah Palin. What I thought of her is such a loaded question. I am a democrat. I am a fierce Obama supporter and admittedly crappy feminist. I do love politics though and sometimes I allow myself to fantasize about being in the Senate, being Governor, being CEO, being a writer, or even just going back to my old job as a med tech.
But right now I'm a mom.
Right now I am at the bus stop, the birthday parties, the pediatrician, and the brownie meetings. Right now I begrudgingly serve breakfast at seven thirty am despite wanting to sleep another hour or two. Right now I suffer through yet another Chuck E Cheese party, yet another episode of Hannah Montana, yet another exciting game of 'where's the baby? there's the baby!!!'.
Because I'm the mom.
I can't be Vice President, or Senator, or CEO or a med tech, because I have a baby. I have a daughter with crazy food allergies and asthma. I have a sassy seven year old who needs to be taught when sarcasm is okay and when it's not. I have a sweet little four year old who's birth mother I promised I'd be there for.
I am a mom and that's important. It's enough. It's what I agreed to be when I became pregnant with my oldest seven and a half years ago.
I'm not saying don't work. Some people have to, some want to. I'm saying I won't put my kids off on a nanny or daycare. I won't shuffle them off to latchkey or grandma's.
I'm saying I'll live on less, I'll go without, so that they can have me.
I'm saying at 31, when faced with an unplanned pregnancy, I needed my mom.
At 17 I would have been lost without her.
That's all I'm saying.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Miss the Press, and Tim Russert.
I wish Tim Russert was here.
This is the thought that's running through my mind as I watch my MSNBC buds bask in the after glow of my candidate. My God wasn't he amazing. Republican or Democrat you have got to be proud of that speech. Today we nominated the first black man for President. Tonight we listened to Barack Obama quote Martin Luther King Jr.
Tonight we made history. Tonight we forever changed the world. No matter what happens now, the world has changed.
I say we because that is what Barack Obama is all about. Us. As a volunteer for the campaign, I believe in Barack Obama because he believes in us.
We shall over come. We are the dream.
My black daughter snuggled upstairs in her bed right now with her two white sisters, they are the dream.
The retired High School Principle and the Neighborhood Preacher who spend there free time improving race relations in our neighborhood, are the dream.
Barack Obama is the dream. We have come so far, and yet we have so far to go.
Right now, I miss Tim Russert. He would love this. I can see his big pumpkin grin. His wild eyes twinkling as he exclaimed 'What a Country!'
Tonight, I picture him behind his desk, with Ronald Regan and Jack Kennedy discussing this night. I see him one on one with MLK himself, tears in both of their eyes. I see him leading a round table with Stephanie Tubbs Jones and Daniel Pearl. Maybe Abe popped in, maybe LBJ or Bobby. There was no way to keep FDR from the stage.
"This is incredible!" Russert would say happily. "What a Country!"
This is the thought that's running through my mind as I watch my MSNBC buds bask in the after glow of my candidate. My God wasn't he amazing. Republican or Democrat you have got to be proud of that speech. Today we nominated the first black man for President. Tonight we listened to Barack Obama quote Martin Luther King Jr.
Tonight we made history. Tonight we forever changed the world. No matter what happens now, the world has changed.
I say we because that is what Barack Obama is all about. Us. As a volunteer for the campaign, I believe in Barack Obama because he believes in us.
We shall over come. We are the dream.
My black daughter snuggled upstairs in her bed right now with her two white sisters, they are the dream.
The retired High School Principle and the Neighborhood Preacher who spend there free time improving race relations in our neighborhood, are the dream.
Barack Obama is the dream. We have come so far, and yet we have so far to go.
Right now, I miss Tim Russert. He would love this. I can see his big pumpkin grin. His wild eyes twinkling as he exclaimed 'What a Country!'
Tonight, I picture him behind his desk, with Ronald Regan and Jack Kennedy discussing this night. I see him one on one with MLK himself, tears in both of their eyes. I see him leading a round table with Stephanie Tubbs Jones and Daniel Pearl. Maybe Abe popped in, maybe LBJ or Bobby. There was no way to keep FDR from the stage.
"This is incredible!" Russert would say happily. "What a Country!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
