Well, I can't say that I haven't had some blogworthy ideas lately, but I haven't felt like actually blogging them. I want the ideas to be "out there," so to speak, but without the effort of actually posting them--you know, typing in the URL, clicking "New Post" . . . That's where I get stuck. Once I'm here, it's like rolling off a log. Especially when I use tired cliches like that.
I thought about posting for Thanksgiving, but I couldn't decide whether to post something negative about how holidays raise false expectations or muster up some things I'm thankful for (I do have a number but posting them might seem a little redundant) for a sentimental post (actually, Chris strikes a nice balance here!). . .
I had one in my head about Sesame Street, in reference to this article, and one about the response I wrote to a company (one of the many) that feels the need to address parents' concerns about safety in the wake of the recalls of Chinese-made products. I would still like to post on these, but don't hold it against me if I don't manage it. . .
Here I am, nearing the end of week 3 with my new baby. My husband is getting ready to return to work on Monday. And it's getting tough. The first 2 weeks seemed to fly by quickly and easily. I was recovering well. I had energy. The toddler was sweet. The baby was sleeping a good 4+3 hours a night. And I could reminisce about the birth experience. All I had were minor annoyances--the normal postpartum stuff and then the limitations that I have been gradually ignoring: not picking up the toddler, not leaving the house with the newborn, that kind of thing. But reality is setting in. When I'm not holding one child, I'm holding the other one. Sometimes I'm holding both (though when I'm not tired, that can be really sweet). If I'm not nursing one, I'm looking for something the toddler will eat or feeding my baby's milk supply (most of the time, actually. . .). I feel both in demand and completely useless, since I've been warming my corner of the sofa/futon for the last 3 months of the pregnancy and the first 3 weeks of the baby's life. If I have any clothes that fits me, it is buried in the Closet-of-Rubbermaids and I haven't been able to access it. So I'm still sporting maternity fashions which, while comfortable, are getting blissfully but annoyingly loose. (I'm only 5 lbs. from my pre-pregnancy weight-which was still too much!)
Things cross my mind, like the dissertation--I wonder when I will finish? The fact that I HAVE to finish. . . Knowing I won't have a job past the spring. . . Knowing that even if English offers me a teaching assignment for the Summer (but these are in high demand and if I'm not a grad student, my chances of getting one are less likely), classes are only offered during the day every day of the week, which would require a perpetual babysitter or away-from-home child care (neither of which is possible). Similarly, next fall and spring (if hired by the department) I may not be able to keep my evening schedule, and I would have to teach at least 2 classes as a lecturer to match my current salary as a grad student. If I get hired by anyone else (which would necessitate applying), my problems will be worse, because I don't want my babies in daycare. But then at least I could afford it, might be able to limit it to 3 (part-)days a week, and my baby would be a year (give or take). I'm also worried about not being home 2 or 3 evenings a week in the Spring (because of teaching), the impending expiration of my financial aid, the impending repayment of the same financial aid, and incidentals like needing new tires.
Do I want to stay home all of the time? No. Do I think I could? Not without getting frustrated & depressed. ('Cause that would be different.) And unless my husband found another job that paid $15,000 more, we couldn't do it financially either. (Not being greedy & materialistic here, just thinking about current payments--and that's considering that I just finished a consumer credit program that paid off our first impoverished years of marriage!!) I also worry about simpler things like how to control the rambunctious toddler (or at least keep a good rein on her) and how on earth I will ever be able to leave the house with the two of them. The toddler does not hold hands. She runs in her own direction until forced to do otherwise. My son was not like this. I have visions of loading both children in the stroller (which, having failed to hear from the person who offered to give mer her double sit-n-stand, I ordered for myself. . .) to stroll them from the apartment to the car, 10 yards or so away. . .
So where is that Little-Engine-That-Could attitude? It has gone the way of the Dodo. Actually, it was a pose. I've been putting you all on.
Well, now I have to go clear up my broken water glass that I knocked off the arm of the sofa. *sigh* Will be back to check incessantly for comments. Sometimes I think blogging is an unhealthy addiction.
P.S.--Any lurkers. . . Pleeeeeease don't tell me that God is calling me to be a stay-at-home mom, much as I respect those who I know who are stay-at-home moms!! You may believe it about me if you wish, but I've heard that before, and it's not really helpful nor do I believe it to be true. (It's kind of like telling someone who's married that he should have been a priest, because that's his true calling.) Thanks! ;)
Showing posts with label finances. Show all posts
Showing posts with label finances. Show all posts
Friday, November 23, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
Because Life is Meant to Be Interesting. . .
I discovered today, quite by chance, that the financial aid department at my university no longer considers me to be in good academic standing. The reason? Because they claim that I have exceeded 180 hours towards a single degree. Now, the only way that I have exceeded 180 hours is if my M.A. is counted in the total. That's 2--count 'em!--TWO degrees. But because nothing is easy, I have to submit an online appeals form, which will not be read until I make an appointment with one of their counselors (who can't count anyway), and submit, as part of the appeals process, an Academic Adviser form verifying that I am following a degree plan, that I know all about getting a job in my field, and that I will graduate someday. It's always lovely to have to drag faculty into lovely little matters of not being able to manage my finances.
And nothing much is riding on these loan funds that are now being held. Nope. Just my entire move. Because the bank account is woefully low, the utility company seems to be charging a retroactive late fee from the last time we had service with them--5 years ago, and of course we have to pay the pro-rated rent for the 3 days this month we will live in the new place. Not to mention moving supplies, a truck rental--you know, the usual stuff.
And when was I to receive notice of this glitch in my financial aid? Who knows. The loan was added and removed from my account today, and I had to search my online records in order to find out anything. I discovered this while investigating why I had not been charged for my registered summer hours. So I guess there is some providence in the fact that I realized it now and not late next week when the money was completely gone. But I was slated to receive my funds next Tuesday or Wednesday. That is clearly not going to happen.
In a perfect world, I would not need the loans anyway. But in a perfect world, many of the financial setbacks we have had since we were married would not have happened, or perhaps, as some people advise, we would not have married until the finances were stable. But life doesn't really work that way, and so we will be paying loans until we die. Literally. That doesn't bother me--it'll be like renting our degrees for the rest of our lives. At least the loans don't transfer to the children. But I have to finish the degrees before I can pay the loans. And in order to do that, I need the loans. Kind of circular, no?
Anyway, this crops up at just this moment because I feel better about the pregnancy. The optimist in me says that this is so that I wouldn't have had too many things to cause anxiety all at once. The cynic in me says that it's so that I wouldn't actually get a break from stress. Oh, and the cynic adds, "Dissertation? What dissertation?"
And nothing much is riding on these loan funds that are now being held. Nope. Just my entire move. Because the bank account is woefully low, the utility company seems to be charging a retroactive late fee from the last time we had service with them--5 years ago, and of course we have to pay the pro-rated rent for the 3 days this month we will live in the new place. Not to mention moving supplies, a truck rental--you know, the usual stuff.
And when was I to receive notice of this glitch in my financial aid? Who knows. The loan was added and removed from my account today, and I had to search my online records in order to find out anything. I discovered this while investigating why I had not been charged for my registered summer hours. So I guess there is some providence in the fact that I realized it now and not late next week when the money was completely gone. But I was slated to receive my funds next Tuesday or Wednesday. That is clearly not going to happen.
In a perfect world, I would not need the loans anyway. But in a perfect world, many of the financial setbacks we have had since we were married would not have happened, or perhaps, as some people advise, we would not have married until the finances were stable. But life doesn't really work that way, and so we will be paying loans until we die. Literally. That doesn't bother me--it'll be like renting our degrees for the rest of our lives. At least the loans don't transfer to the children. But I have to finish the degrees before I can pay the loans. And in order to do that, I need the loans. Kind of circular, no?
Anyway, this crops up at just this moment because I feel better about the pregnancy. The optimist in me says that this is so that I wouldn't have had too many things to cause anxiety all at once. The cynic in me says that it's so that I wouldn't actually get a break from stress. Oh, and the cynic adds, "Dissertation? What dissertation?"
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The Ugly Green Monster, or Being content with your own challenges
It is always difficult comparing oneself to others. It is perhaps more difficult not to compare oneself to others. The tendency is one that every parent (every parent, that is, who does not encourage such comparisons) combats as soon as his/her child enters school. "Tommy is 3 pages ahead of me in math!" "Jimmy read 3 books and I'm only on my second!" "Caleb and Cody run faster, and Ruben is a better soccer player!" But in all reality, I think most adults are equally guilty of comparing themselves to others, and that the result of such comparisons is the inevitable envy of others' situations. It is a struggle to remember, at times, that our situations are frequently the results of our own different goals and choices, and that others' challenges may be more difficult than ours, even if their circumstances seem better in one way or another.
This is something I have struggled with ever since coming to Texas. The standards by which native Texans judge life--especially the financial aspects of life--are radically different from how I understood things growing up in New Orleans. Graduate students still being supported by their parents and grandparents provided my first great shock, but I think this difference really gelled for me when a friend's husband remarked that he didn't think they were yuppies yet, but that he hoped to be so one day. To me, the term "yuppie" represented something like Matthew Arnold's use of the term "Philistine" in Culture and Anarchy, or the term bourgeois to societies that value aristocratic culture. To him, "yuppie" represented a standard of income and comfort to which he aspired. As I remarked to a student the other day when we were discussing graduate school and income, specifically, the idea that some B.A. degrees have a greater payout than many graduate degrees, it definitely depends on your perspective whether a graduate degree is "worth it." My family already earns more than my family's income when I was growing up (inflation notwithstanding), and my mother had 6 children. I am only on #3.
Though I have stopped panicking about the financial aspect of this pregnancy, having found that my insurance will probably only require us to pay about $600 for every aspect of this pregnancy and delivery, it will not be easy on us to have #3 at this stage. We just decided that we could afford #2, when we were confronted with the choice, shortly after her birth: reconcile with the USDEd or be garnished. (Forbearances fell through the cracks.) We considered ourselves to be doing pretty well, comparatively. We were better off financially than we ever had been since marriage. My husband's job was more stable (since he gave up the teaching that he enjoyed) and he was guaranteed a paycheck 12 months of the year (which I am not). So I was shocked when a friend of mine, newly married herself, devoutly Catholic, a great advocate of NFP who considered me an NFP "success" when I became pregnant shortly after becoming Catholic, presented me with a couple of shopping bags of baby "gifts"--chosen from the crisis pregnancy center where her Dad worked. Was I to be a charity recipient? I in no way felt like I was the person for whom those goods were intended. I was married, my pregnancy was "planned". . . I could only assume that she either believed that my daughter was an NFP success because I was "open to," but not necessarily trying to achieve, pregnancy, or that we were too poor to be able to afford another baby. Either impression was disturbing.
Inevitably, when one is close friends with people, particularly, it seems, with couples, one becomes acquainted with their financial situations. In the case of this friend and her now-husband, I know that they planned meticulously (albeit quickly) for marriage by taking stock of their various resources, considering their compatibility and God's will--things that it would not have occurred to me to do, and which, if considered carefully, would have contraindicated marriage because of our financial situations at the time. So we came to realize that these newlyweds, who did not have children and did not have to pay rent because of an arrangement with the homeowner, made roughly twice our income. Other friends exceeded our income by something like three times, but did not feel financially secure enough to have a family, in spite of their significant lack of debt. We have always struggled. It may have been wrong to compare ourselves to others who did not choose graduate school, or who did not finish or work continuously towards the degree the way I have. But the comparison was inevitable, and the seeming unfairness of the situation preyed on my mind. It also puts one at a disadvantage in a friendship to feel as though, if your friends can't afford a child at $100K, how can they respect your decision to have a second at $40K?
I have discussed elsewhere the dilemma of helping relatives who need financial assistance after being displaced by Hurricane Katrina. We pay for two cars, but only have use of one.
Things will not be easy, and I am still over a year away from the possibility of a tenure-track job, though all the instruments we have agree that motherhood decreases a woman's chance of achieving tenure, either because of her own decisions in the matter or others' prejudices. Fatherhood, by contrast, according to an article I can no longer find, increases the man's chance of advancing in academia, providing his fatherhood is a subtle aspect of his persona. My husband had to abandon the possibility Ph.D. a while back, in support of my own Ph.D. (though perhaps not permanently). So I'm pretty much our hope for any increase in income. Later, not now.
And here I am, working on #3.
The question occurs to me, once again. . . What is the role of Divine Intervention in financial matters? There are many whose blogs I have read, notably Jen at Et tu, Jen?, as well as commentors on a previous post of mine, who believe explicitly and implicitly that God does provide materially and in tangibly noticeable, even dramatic, ways. I have always experienced it as a slow inching, by degrees, to a slightly more preferable state, followed by a number of setbacks like a seized tax return after loan consolidation paperwork fell through, or sabotage by graduate coordinator of the Ph.D. program that my husband would have graduated from by now, or the sabotage of a willful department head who could not see why someone with a family and an excellent teaching record deserves to teach, and be paid for, the full-load of 4 classes instead of 1.
If I accept my own view of things, that God does not directly intervene in financial matters, but provides for our needs in other ways, I can not account for others' financial-relief-though-prayer stories. However, if I accept others' faith in God's provision for our material needs--in some cases, wants--I am faced with the dilemma not of why my needs are not met, but why others, in worse situations than mine, do not have the benefit of divine intervention. As for myself, I have either to conclude that I lack constancy in prayer and faith in this particular area of God's mercy, or that my situation is not bad enough to merit Divine Intervention, which I can accept, but I know that there are more pious people than I who are very, very desperately poor.
This was not intended to be a post primarily about finances, however, but about envy, comparing oneself to others, and finally preferring one's own challenges.
There are many other occasions that arise that encourage one to compare oneself to others. Mothers everywhere discuss childbirth experiences, early feeding issues, jaundice. . . I have twice had friends less experienced than I with breastfeeding spared the agony I faced with a child who would not wake up to nurse--who lost a pound of her birthweight while I waited for my milk to arrive. Whose doctors did not have to push formula, and who did not make them feel deficient. Baby and I survived these trials, and more. And it is difficult to see others breeze through. . . Except that one of my friends had to travel 3 hours in the days after her son was born to spend time with her father in his last days. She found that she was pregnant about the time that he learned that he had cancer, and had little if any hope of it being cured. So her unplanned pregnancy resulted in her father being able to see his new grandchild before he died. What a gift! And had she had to struggle with my new baby struggles, her ability to find time for her father would have been compromised. My other friend who has wonderfully had unparalleled success with breastfeeding almost lost her baby due to complications, endured an emergency C-section, and had a terribly emotionally taxing pregnancy even before the onset of health concerns for the baby. Her positive breastfeeding experience has allowed her a measure of comfort in all of this. It is impossible to feel actual envy in the face of these circumstances, and it helps to be able to recognize that our difficulties are our own, unique to us, given to us with a recognition of what we are capable of handling, and from what we will benefit most in our particular circumstances.
Since finding I was pregnant, I have found more blogs discussing--often in grim detail--the emotional and physical pain of miscarriage than I ever suspected existed. I already knew of 3 fellow-graduate students who suffered miscarriages since I was pregnant with my daughter. This is not healthy reading for someone in her 9th week of pregnancy, but it does make it clear to me that my feelings about this baby--and this pregnancy--are not ambiguous. I did not expect that they would be, but being confronted with it concretely is a blessing of sorts. In the midst of my sadness and sympathy for others, I realize that I prefer my own challenges, and pray that I will not have to face what they have bravely endured.
Similarly, the financial burdens I have are ones to which I am fairly accustomed at this point. They weigh me down. They are ugly. They seem inescapable--and may well be. But they are my own challenges. I have a wonderful, supportive husband who understands me and does not demean me or my experiences in any way. We both value much in life above money, and we will hopefully teach our children this attitude. Likely we are not as generous as we could be, but since we both returned to the Church, this has been improving. It is difficult to be generous when one's mind is focused on one's own financial troubles! We love one another and our children. We will accept this new life with excitement. We have goals that are non-financial that may be within reach! So at the end of the day, the comparisons between our life and the lives of our friends do not hold up. We are living as we have chosen to live in many ways; we accept our own challenges and are satisfied.
ADDENDUM--Here is the source for my comments about academic motherhood and fatherhood, above, from The New Republic's Open University blog feature. Evidently the same search term yielded this result and one of my posts! It never ceases to amaze me how the web works. . .
This is something I have struggled with ever since coming to Texas. The standards by which native Texans judge life--especially the financial aspects of life--are radically different from how I understood things growing up in New Orleans. Graduate students still being supported by their parents and grandparents provided my first great shock, but I think this difference really gelled for me when a friend's husband remarked that he didn't think they were yuppies yet, but that he hoped to be so one day. To me, the term "yuppie" represented something like Matthew Arnold's use of the term "Philistine" in Culture and Anarchy, or the term bourgeois to societies that value aristocratic culture. To him, "yuppie" represented a standard of income and comfort to which he aspired. As I remarked to a student the other day when we were discussing graduate school and income, specifically, the idea that some B.A. degrees have a greater payout than many graduate degrees, it definitely depends on your perspective whether a graduate degree is "worth it." My family already earns more than my family's income when I was growing up (inflation notwithstanding), and my mother had 6 children. I am only on #3.
Though I have stopped panicking about the financial aspect of this pregnancy, having found that my insurance will probably only require us to pay about $600 for every aspect of this pregnancy and delivery, it will not be easy on us to have #3 at this stage. We just decided that we could afford #2, when we were confronted with the choice, shortly after her birth: reconcile with the USDEd or be garnished. (Forbearances fell through the cracks.) We considered ourselves to be doing pretty well, comparatively. We were better off financially than we ever had been since marriage. My husband's job was more stable (since he gave up the teaching that he enjoyed) and he was guaranteed a paycheck 12 months of the year (which I am not). So I was shocked when a friend of mine, newly married herself, devoutly Catholic, a great advocate of NFP who considered me an NFP "success" when I became pregnant shortly after becoming Catholic, presented me with a couple of shopping bags of baby "gifts"--chosen from the crisis pregnancy center where her Dad worked. Was I to be a charity recipient? I in no way felt like I was the person for whom those goods were intended. I was married, my pregnancy was "planned". . . I could only assume that she either believed that my daughter was an NFP success because I was "open to," but not necessarily trying to achieve, pregnancy, or that we were too poor to be able to afford another baby. Either impression was disturbing.
Inevitably, when one is close friends with people, particularly, it seems, with couples, one becomes acquainted with their financial situations. In the case of this friend and her now-husband, I know that they planned meticulously (albeit quickly) for marriage by taking stock of their various resources, considering their compatibility and God's will--things that it would not have occurred to me to do, and which, if considered carefully, would have contraindicated marriage because of our financial situations at the time. So we came to realize that these newlyweds, who did not have children and did not have to pay rent because of an arrangement with the homeowner, made roughly twice our income. Other friends exceeded our income by something like three times, but did not feel financially secure enough to have a family, in spite of their significant lack of debt. We have always struggled. It may have been wrong to compare ourselves to others who did not choose graduate school, or who did not finish or work continuously towards the degree the way I have. But the comparison was inevitable, and the seeming unfairness of the situation preyed on my mind. It also puts one at a disadvantage in a friendship to feel as though, if your friends can't afford a child at $100K, how can they respect your decision to have a second at $40K?
I have discussed elsewhere the dilemma of helping relatives who need financial assistance after being displaced by Hurricane Katrina. We pay for two cars, but only have use of one.
Things will not be easy, and I am still over a year away from the possibility of a tenure-track job, though all the instruments we have agree that motherhood decreases a woman's chance of achieving tenure, either because of her own decisions in the matter or others' prejudices. Fatherhood, by contrast, according to an article I can no longer find, increases the man's chance of advancing in academia, providing his fatherhood is a subtle aspect of his persona. My husband had to abandon the possibility Ph.D. a while back, in support of my own Ph.D. (though perhaps not permanently). So I'm pretty much our hope for any increase in income. Later, not now.
And here I am, working on #3.
The question occurs to me, once again. . . What is the role of Divine Intervention in financial matters? There are many whose blogs I have read, notably Jen at Et tu, Jen?, as well as commentors on a previous post of mine, who believe explicitly and implicitly that God does provide materially and in tangibly noticeable, even dramatic, ways. I have always experienced it as a slow inching, by degrees, to a slightly more preferable state, followed by a number of setbacks like a seized tax return after loan consolidation paperwork fell through, or sabotage by graduate coordinator of the Ph.D. program that my husband would have graduated from by now, or the sabotage of a willful department head who could not see why someone with a family and an excellent teaching record deserves to teach, and be paid for, the full-load of 4 classes instead of 1.
If I accept my own view of things, that God does not directly intervene in financial matters, but provides for our needs in other ways, I can not account for others' financial-relief-though-prayer stories. However, if I accept others' faith in God's provision for our material needs--in some cases, wants--I am faced with the dilemma not of why my needs are not met, but why others, in worse situations than mine, do not have the benefit of divine intervention. As for myself, I have either to conclude that I lack constancy in prayer and faith in this particular area of God's mercy, or that my situation is not bad enough to merit Divine Intervention, which I can accept, but I know that there are more pious people than I who are very, very desperately poor.
This was not intended to be a post primarily about finances, however, but about envy, comparing oneself to others, and finally preferring one's own challenges.
There are many other occasions that arise that encourage one to compare oneself to others. Mothers everywhere discuss childbirth experiences, early feeding issues, jaundice. . . I have twice had friends less experienced than I with breastfeeding spared the agony I faced with a child who would not wake up to nurse--who lost a pound of her birthweight while I waited for my milk to arrive. Whose doctors did not have to push formula, and who did not make them feel deficient. Baby and I survived these trials, and more. And it is difficult to see others breeze through. . . Except that one of my friends had to travel 3 hours in the days after her son was born to spend time with her father in his last days. She found that she was pregnant about the time that he learned that he had cancer, and had little if any hope of it being cured. So her unplanned pregnancy resulted in her father being able to see his new grandchild before he died. What a gift! And had she had to struggle with my new baby struggles, her ability to find time for her father would have been compromised. My other friend who has wonderfully had unparalleled success with breastfeeding almost lost her baby due to complications, endured an emergency C-section, and had a terribly emotionally taxing pregnancy even before the onset of health concerns for the baby. Her positive breastfeeding experience has allowed her a measure of comfort in all of this. It is impossible to feel actual envy in the face of these circumstances, and it helps to be able to recognize that our difficulties are our own, unique to us, given to us with a recognition of what we are capable of handling, and from what we will benefit most in our particular circumstances.
Since finding I was pregnant, I have found more blogs discussing--often in grim detail--the emotional and physical pain of miscarriage than I ever suspected existed. I already knew of 3 fellow-graduate students who suffered miscarriages since I was pregnant with my daughter. This is not healthy reading for someone in her 9th week of pregnancy, but it does make it clear to me that my feelings about this baby--and this pregnancy--are not ambiguous. I did not expect that they would be, but being confronted with it concretely is a blessing of sorts. In the midst of my sadness and sympathy for others, I realize that I prefer my own challenges, and pray that I will not have to face what they have bravely endured.
Similarly, the financial burdens I have are ones to which I am fairly accustomed at this point. They weigh me down. They are ugly. They seem inescapable--and may well be. But they are my own challenges. I have a wonderful, supportive husband who understands me and does not demean me or my experiences in any way. We both value much in life above money, and we will hopefully teach our children this attitude. Likely we are not as generous as we could be, but since we both returned to the Church, this has been improving. It is difficult to be generous when one's mind is focused on one's own financial troubles! We love one another and our children. We will accept this new life with excitement. We have goals that are non-financial that may be within reach! So at the end of the day, the comparisons between our life and the lives of our friends do not hold up. We are living as we have chosen to live in many ways; we accept our own challenges and are satisfied.
ADDENDUM--Here is the source for my comments about academic motherhood and fatherhood, above, from The New Republic's Open University blog feature. Evidently the same search term yielded this result and one of my posts! It never ceases to amaze me how the web works. . .
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Pregnancy Anxieties, part 1
At the time that I wrote my two blogs about Catholic moms, careers, and unplanned pregnancies, I had a strong suspicion that I was pregnant with my third child. Turns out, I am. If you know me in the world outside the blog, please don't mention it just yet, as I am not quite ready for the news to go public (especially since my first doctor's appointment isn't until April 2, and I'm always rather afraid of something bad happening in the meantime). Also, pleeeeease don't make with the Catholic jokes until later. I can't really handle them right now. You can save them for the series of posts I'm planning: one in which I ask for people to say happy, excited, cheerful things; one in which I ask for people to tell me all of the obnoxious things that people tell to women who are pregnant--especially who are pregnant again, too soon, and then perhaps one that asks about Catholic large family jokes or even perhaps blessings. I need all of the blessings I can get!
You see, I really wasn't ready. I thought I would perhaps wait until my daughter was 4 or 5--after all, her brother was about to turn 9 when she was born. I wanted to determine how her very strong little personality would develop for a while, and I feared that she would be a "middle child"--the attention-seeker who feels persecuted by his/her siblings and parents. I did not want this for her. She has a sweet disposition, but has entered the most frustrating age!! I remember being frustrated with her brother at this age, and the frustration didn't lessen until he was 4 or 5, though the later frustration was perhaps a symptom of his ability to communicate rather than the inability, which is what we are facing now. She is very needy, and wants my (usually) or my husband's (frequently) attention most of the time. Brother is a big help, but it is a real challenge to keep her happy these days. I also need to investigate the possibility that she has recurrent urinary tract infections, a fear with which the doctor poisoned my mind when she had a UTI at about 9 months. The "asserting her will" phase is further complicated by the fact that my house is NOT baby proof--not even remotely baby proof--not baby proof in any sense of the word. So all is not well in toddler-land.
I worry that no one will be excited for me. That I will be greeted with pity, which, I believe, has already happened. That I will be regarded as foolish. That those who express joy will harbor a secret pleasure in seeing me humbled. I did not have a baby shower with my daughter on purpose, because I didn't know who would come anyway, and it was never custom in New Orleans to have a baby shower for a second pregnancy. But for this one, I feel like I might like one. This might be because a baby shower forces people to at least pretend to be happy for the pregnant mother. I was most insistent that I receive a baby shower for my son, also unplanned, but more so, and so dreadfully afraid (with reason) that no one would step forward to give it that I organized it myself, for the most part. Perhaps I felt confident enough in myself not to need other people being happy for me with my daughter--they were already, and it didn't necessarily matter, because I was happy.
Which perhaps brings me to the real cause for my anxiety over what others will say. Anyone who knows me will know that I rarely care for other's opinions. Except that I feel, in spite of the fact that I am happily married, a deep sense of embarrassment and shame. Because, as I mentioned before, intelligent, mature women don't have accidents. I don't really believe that, but that is what feminism would have us believe, isn't it? And regardless of the issues I have with feminism, it's hard to eject the poison from our consciousnesses. The Catholic arguments aren't really working for me, because as a self-styled intellectual and a long-time skeptic, I have deep reservations about doing, feeling, or thinking something because a religion tells you to do so. Conversion or no conversion, I can't purge something so closely embedded in the fiber of my being--or at least I haven't been able to do so yet. This is a point that was not helped by the homily I heard on Sunday, in which the priest discussed ecumenism. He mentioned that while we believe that the Catholic Church holds within itself all of the necessary elements of salvation, that we share with other denominations some of the elements necessary for salvation. While his point was that we can enter dialogue through this common ground, it rather sounded like, if you can't be Catholic, other options can lead you to salvation also. While this is the grounds according to which Catholics recognize the potential for those outside of the Church to achieve Salvation (an idea my mother was not taught in parochial schools), it is not necessarily something that one wants to banter about to Catholics who are feeling discouraged. And as if to illustrate the point, I saw someone in my department yesterday whom I know to have been ordained a Catholic priest. He left the clergy, married, and is now an Episcopalian priest (and a conservative one, from all accounts). So instead of regarding him and wondering the reason for his decision, albeit a difficult decision, this homily allowed me to see the rationale according to which he must have acted, making the choice for the love of his now-wife that he felt, from the weakness of our common human condition, to be necessary at the time. There is, of course, more to the theology issues, but I will leave them for now. . . perhaps forever.
I worry about being a bad parent, particularly to this new one. I have high standards for everyone, but my highest standards I reserve for myself. If I am frustrated with my beautiful little girl right now, how much more will I brush her aside to care for a new one? I don't know how my mother did it. Especially without any support from her husband. And already I am making compromises in my high ideals in anticipation of the new arrival. It was a matter of pride for me to wait until delivery to find the sex of my first two. I am now considering finding out in advance, simply to make it easier on myself--not to enhance the excitement, but to know whether I need to assess the situation with boy clothes, or if I can rest assured that I have things covered with clothes from my daughter. My son and daughter never did take bottles. I now feel that I will probably pump and give the new baby at least one bottle a day. I can not decide whether I am compromising my beliefs about child rearing because I am not mentally or emotionally prepared for this baby, or if I am simply being practical, given the fact that I still need to complete a degree while caring for a toddler and an infant.
And of course, I worry about finances. My husband is woefully underemployed given his education and talents, and has settled for his present position in support of my academic pursuits. My financial aid is exhausted, and I'm not sure I will qualify for alternative loans next academic year. I'm not even going to address bills, but while we have made significant progress on the credit card-type debt over the past 4-5 years, student loans and car notes (of which we have 2, though only one car) pose significant problems. We will be moving into a better school district, which brings additional expense, and would like to get a 2-bedroom, though with a baby on the way, a 3-bedroom would be more legal, if less practical in terms of layout (and price!!). A good friend who will shortly be giving birth herself has told me of a Mexican proverb that a baby is born "with a loaf of bread under its arm." This could be taken more or less literally, assuming that the family situation will work itself out, or that, specifically, families find ways of making things work financially in order to support a new baby. I believe both of these things to a degree, though I must confess to a weakness of faith with regards to God's intervention in financial difficulties. It has just never been something I believed--that God intervenes in financial matters, perhaps because of the emphasis in the Bible on relinquishing one's material possessions.
I have always felt that a baby is indeed a blessing, and precious, and that babies are a joy, and help people to cope with situations in positive ways, so I know things are going to work out somehow. I also maintain the belief, expressed elsewhere, that motherhood does not restrict the mother to the home, and that, in particular, an academic profession and parenting are perfectly compatible. But I know I have significant challenges before me, and I can use all of the prayers and encouragement that you have to offer.
You see, I really wasn't ready. I thought I would perhaps wait until my daughter was 4 or 5--after all, her brother was about to turn 9 when she was born. I wanted to determine how her very strong little personality would develop for a while, and I feared that she would be a "middle child"--the attention-seeker who feels persecuted by his/her siblings and parents. I did not want this for her. She has a sweet disposition, but has entered the most frustrating age!! I remember being frustrated with her brother at this age, and the frustration didn't lessen until he was 4 or 5, though the later frustration was perhaps a symptom of his ability to communicate rather than the inability, which is what we are facing now. She is very needy, and wants my (usually) or my husband's (frequently) attention most of the time. Brother is a big help, but it is a real challenge to keep her happy these days. I also need to investigate the possibility that she has recurrent urinary tract infections, a fear with which the doctor poisoned my mind when she had a UTI at about 9 months. The "asserting her will" phase is further complicated by the fact that my house is NOT baby proof--not even remotely baby proof--not baby proof in any sense of the word. So all is not well in toddler-land.
I worry that no one will be excited for me. That I will be greeted with pity, which, I believe, has already happened. That I will be regarded as foolish. That those who express joy will harbor a secret pleasure in seeing me humbled. I did not have a baby shower with my daughter on purpose, because I didn't know who would come anyway, and it was never custom in New Orleans to have a baby shower for a second pregnancy. But for this one, I feel like I might like one. This might be because a baby shower forces people to at least pretend to be happy for the pregnant mother. I was most insistent that I receive a baby shower for my son, also unplanned, but more so, and so dreadfully afraid (with reason) that no one would step forward to give it that I organized it myself, for the most part. Perhaps I felt confident enough in myself not to need other people being happy for me with my daughter--they were already, and it didn't necessarily matter, because I was happy.
Which perhaps brings me to the real cause for my anxiety over what others will say. Anyone who knows me will know that I rarely care for other's opinions. Except that I feel, in spite of the fact that I am happily married, a deep sense of embarrassment and shame. Because, as I mentioned before, intelligent, mature women don't have accidents. I don't really believe that, but that is what feminism would have us believe, isn't it? And regardless of the issues I have with feminism, it's hard to eject the poison from our consciousnesses. The Catholic arguments aren't really working for me, because as a self-styled intellectual and a long-time skeptic, I have deep reservations about doing, feeling, or thinking something because a religion tells you to do so. Conversion or no conversion, I can't purge something so closely embedded in the fiber of my being--or at least I haven't been able to do so yet. This is a point that was not helped by the homily I heard on Sunday, in which the priest discussed ecumenism. He mentioned that while we believe that the Catholic Church holds within itself all of the necessary elements of salvation, that we share with other denominations some of the elements necessary for salvation. While his point was that we can enter dialogue through this common ground, it rather sounded like, if you can't be Catholic, other options can lead you to salvation also. While this is the grounds according to which Catholics recognize the potential for those outside of the Church to achieve Salvation (an idea my mother was not taught in parochial schools), it is not necessarily something that one wants to banter about to Catholics who are feeling discouraged. And as if to illustrate the point, I saw someone in my department yesterday whom I know to have been ordained a Catholic priest. He left the clergy, married, and is now an Episcopalian priest (and a conservative one, from all accounts). So instead of regarding him and wondering the reason for his decision, albeit a difficult decision, this homily allowed me to see the rationale according to which he must have acted, making the choice for the love of his now-wife that he felt, from the weakness of our common human condition, to be necessary at the time. There is, of course, more to the theology issues, but I will leave them for now. . . perhaps forever.
I worry about being a bad parent, particularly to this new one. I have high standards for everyone, but my highest standards I reserve for myself. If I am frustrated with my beautiful little girl right now, how much more will I brush her aside to care for a new one? I don't know how my mother did it. Especially without any support from her husband. And already I am making compromises in my high ideals in anticipation of the new arrival. It was a matter of pride for me to wait until delivery to find the sex of my first two. I am now considering finding out in advance, simply to make it easier on myself--not to enhance the excitement, but to know whether I need to assess the situation with boy clothes, or if I can rest assured that I have things covered with clothes from my daughter. My son and daughter never did take bottles. I now feel that I will probably pump and give the new baby at least one bottle a day. I can not decide whether I am compromising my beliefs about child rearing because I am not mentally or emotionally prepared for this baby, or if I am simply being practical, given the fact that I still need to complete a degree while caring for a toddler and an infant.
And of course, I worry about finances. My husband is woefully underemployed given his education and talents, and has settled for his present position in support of my academic pursuits. My financial aid is exhausted, and I'm not sure I will qualify for alternative loans next academic year. I'm not even going to address bills, but while we have made significant progress on the credit card-type debt over the past 4-5 years, student loans and car notes (of which we have 2, though only one car) pose significant problems. We will be moving into a better school district, which brings additional expense, and would like to get a 2-bedroom, though with a baby on the way, a 3-bedroom would be more legal, if less practical in terms of layout (and price!!). A good friend who will shortly be giving birth herself has told me of a Mexican proverb that a baby is born "with a loaf of bread under its arm." This could be taken more or less literally, assuming that the family situation will work itself out, or that, specifically, families find ways of making things work financially in order to support a new baby. I believe both of these things to a degree, though I must confess to a weakness of faith with regards to God's intervention in financial difficulties. It has just never been something I believed--that God intervenes in financial matters, perhaps because of the emphasis in the Bible on relinquishing one's material possessions.
I have always felt that a baby is indeed a blessing, and precious, and that babies are a joy, and help people to cope with situations in positive ways, so I know things are going to work out somehow. I also maintain the belief, expressed elsewhere, that motherhood does not restrict the mother to the home, and that, in particular, an academic profession and parenting are perfectly compatible. But I know I have significant challenges before me, and I can use all of the prayers and encouragement that you have to offer.
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