Le Sabot Post-Moderne

Oh, wow. That was incredible.

It's always bothered me a bit that in the very laudable desire to raise the value of childrearing among the Christian community, a lot of folks have taken to portraying the blessing of childrearing as absolute and unmixed. (Though I went through my own Mary Pride stage briefly, I was always rather disturbed by her bald statement that "children are an unqualified blessing." Ain't no such thing this side of the resurrection, honey, and there's plenty of scripture to prove it.) Oh, every man or woman among them will be quick to assert that it's not easy, that the trials are many and so forth, but in the final analysis, they're so interested in the pro-baby PR campaign that inevitably someone who buys into that will at eventually come to the point of saying, "They told me there would be bad days, but they never told me that sometimes it would REALLY STINK. Is it all my fault?"

Really stink and all, I wouldn't trade the pentakids and all the ups and downs of the last 13-1/2 years for anything on this earth. But yes, sometimes, it does really stink, and I echo your wish that we'd do a better job telling people that. Not just "preparing" them so they can "do it all right," but warning them -- you're going to have days so bad that you won't be able to forget how much you need Jesus to carry you through this if you TRY. Just like we do with marriage.

pentamom-

Thanks so much for saying these things. I agree with all of them, but I wasn't brave enough to say it so plainly in my post. :)

I'm not sure if I'm considered one of the Blue Denim Jumper Mafia here, but I'd like to say that I agree with much of what you and Pentamom have said. One of my concerns with the rose-colored glasses worn by many in the homeschool community (and I agree with LOTS of what they say) is that they will inevitably meet with problems for which they were not prepared, thinking that their lifestyle made them immune. We must protect our children, but their own sinful proclivities mean that there are no guarantees that everything will alway turn out the way we planned.

As for unqualified blessings, I think that it depends on your definition of blessings. There is the view which sees God as Santa Claus, giving us everything on our Christmas list if we are good little boys and girls...or there is the reality that God's refining and molding us through the trials and dailiness of life is the blessing, because it causes us to cling to Him and enables us to be more like Him.

Carmon!

It's such a pleasure to have you on the Clog. :)

"I'm not sure if I'm considered one of the Blue Denim Jumper Mafia here. . .

No way! You're a self-described 'Prairie Muffin', a group held in high esteem here at Le Sabot. We're actually quite exacting about our subcultural taxonomy.

BDJM-dom requires a level of self-righteousness, insularity and a mania for sowing lace on any available cuff or collar that I could never associate with you. . .

"We must protect our children, but their own sinful proclivities mean that there are no guarantees that everything will alway turn out the way we planned."

I think this gets overlooked sometimes as well. And too often, when it is considered, the response is an almost Pavlovian emphasis on controlling external behaviors. Gary Ezzo is a good example.

I still too often focus on my childrens' sinful actions, rather than the underlying heart condition that causes them.

Oh you guys homebirthed too? I knew there was something I liked about you! How many of your kids were born at home? I'll have to email the Duchess about this... I don't suppose you cloth diaper too?

Autmom-

There will be many things to like about me. As the odious Sid, in Breakfast at Tiffany's said, "You know you like me. I'm a liked guy!"

But yeah, we've have run the gamut of childbirthing options. Lessee. . . With Johnny we had a Janet Reno-lookalike at a birthing center. The Duchess's labor ran to 36 hours though, so we ended up in a really nice hospital in Sarasota, FL.

Next, for Tennyson, we had an AWESOME midwife named Veronica who formerly smuggled Bibles into the USSR with Brother Andrew. This was in a posh hospital in Los Gatos, CA.

Next, for Reagan, came a bizarre midwife cum horse doctor who wore yellow shooter's goggles even indoors, looked something like Frankenstein's less graceful sister, and told us flatly that if her mare went into labor the same day as te Duchess (which was a real possibility), then we'd be without a midwife. We dropped her and an old friend from the Duchess's pro-life activism days stepped in. She did a great job. This was in San Angelo, TX. This was a homebirth.

Lastly, for Calvin, we had Tavish. This was in Columbia SC. She was the most hippiesh "women who run with the wolves" of all of them, but a Christian. We were in language school preparing to come to Ukraine, and so he was born in a trailer next to the campus of Columbia Int'l Uni.

In all of these, I was really involved. At times I envied my forefathers who paced outside and gave out cigars. I'm practically the first doula in history with XY chromosomes.

And yeah, we used cloth diapers. Thankfully, for now at least, those days are over. :)

Hey, I had two of my children in that same hospital in Los Gatos! One was born six weeks before the big quake, when half the houses there toppled off their foundations...we were at the doc's for the checkup earlier in the day. Those were our pre-midwife days. And I've been Huggies all the way.

I didn't know that about Veronica...I'll tell my dear friend who is studying nursing at SJSU and hoping to do midwifery eventually.

You know Veronica? German lady who lives in Watsonville? What a small world. . .

My friend knows her and visits her for certain, ahem, checkups. My first midwife was Kay Mills who worked with Dr. Creevy...they started a birth center in Menlo Park, next to Stanford. She ended up going out of town the evening I went into labor (she told me not to go into labor that evening, big mistake as my husband will tell you as that guaranteed it would happen); she was at the symphony in San Francisco. That nixed the home birth so we skedaddled to the birth center just in time to give birth, sans camera and shoes, which turned out not to be necessary for bringing a baby into the world. The midwife dropped in on her way home, in her lovely evening gown. Talk about a picture in contrasts.

Doctor Creevy, who showed up with the catcher's mitt, is known as a big proponent of midwives and home birth, and he is mentioned favorably in Jessica Mitford's _The American Way of Birth_.

Sorry to turn your post about the harsh realities of family into a paean about natural birth, John. How about if I say that I was *terribly* disappointed that my first home birth happened in a birth center but it reminded me that babies can be born anywhere and still be loved? Although, that child has grown into one of my biggest stinkers, whom I love to pieces, but do you suppose it's because she was born in less than ideal circumstances? Inquiring minds want to know!