This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com so check it out there, too!
I have a theory about moms and their social lives. It’s that most moms have five groups of people in their social networks. I’ll describe them a bit for you:
1. Friends from before you had kids. Notice I didn’t bother to separate these into high school friends, college friends, work friends, etc. They’re all lumped together now in a group of “they’ve known me as a woman before she was a mom”.
2. Friends you made because you were pregnant at the same time. Perhaps you met these friends at your birthing classes. Possibly, you had the same doctor and ran into each other a lot. Maybe you’re like me, and you met them at prenatal yoga. Or just maybe, you just looked at each other, in the middle of Babies R Us, that registering “gun” in your hand, staring at the wall full of seemingly identical sippy cups, and just laughed together.
3. Friends you made because they also have kids. These are the friends that you were acquainted with, but you’d never really gotten to know before, until you realized your kids were similar ages, and wow! you live in the same neighborhood! Neighborhood park play date, anyone? (Note: They might also be the ones that you keep calling and asking your random “Is this normal?” type questions. And that’s okay, too.)
4. Friends you made because your kids are friends with theirs. Since my kids are young, I haven’t delved too far into this one yet myself, but these are friend you’ve made simply because your kids request to hang out with their kids. Lots of times, that means you and that other mom are gonna get a lot of quality time together, so I hope for your sake she’s cool.
5. Friends that belong in more than one of these groups. These are usually the favorites. Your best friend from college got pregnant at the same time as you. Your community group at church has a couple of moms with kids that are similarly aged. Your kids have had so many play dates with your prenatal yoga friends’ kids that they’re basically best friends now, too.
This fifth group is the one that I say “does life together”. Not that you can’t do life with someone in a different stage of life than you… you absolutely can. But isn’t it easier to relate to someone else who also has a toddler and a newborn, who can relate to the sleep-deprived craziness? Isn’t it more comforting to call a fellow mom to pray for you about your child having night terrors? It just makes more sense to ask another mom advice about getting your four-month-old to sleep through the night.
This group, network, tribe… these are the prayer warriors, the comforters, the make-you-feel-better-ers, and the caretakers on standby. These are the ones who will have coffee with you after preschool drop off in their pjs. They’re the ones who will immediately answer your message at 4:00am, because they’re also up nursing a baby. They’re the ones who will tell you it’s okay to cry over spilled milk sometimes, and your potty-training problems will be over before you know it, who will let you drop off your toddler for an hour while you go to the dentist, and who will remind you that those little mess-making devils are the ones you love, even on their messiest, most devious days – yes, even after you’ve stepped on the twenty-seventh Lego.
A couple of weekends ago, I went to the mountains (Asheville, NC to be exact) with my college girlfriends for about 24 hours. Y’all. It’s the first baby-free 24 hours I’ve had since September. I know, I’m probably spoiled getting away twice in a matter of four months, but I digress.
We had planned to spend a day and a night together before the Christmas rush to catch up, sleep late, eat like the foodies we are, drink wine and shop. It was a great trip: beautiful weather, wonderful friends (we’ve been friends for ten years!) and just enough excitement to make me glad I wasn’t lugging two extra bodies around.
Until I’d gotten through 19 or so of the 24 hours. And then I missed those extra little bodies. No one was tugging at my shirt from around my knees, no one had needed to potty, no sippy cups misplaced, no diapers were changed, and no one had cried because their nap time was off. But then again, no one randomly wanted hugs and kisses, ate the rest of my sandwich I couldn’t finish, charmed strangers with his giggles, or gave a hilarious misnomer to an item she saw in a storefront. Hubby was sending me pictures of the three of them, having a grand time wearing superhero capes and having dance parties. I know, I shouldn’t complain. I was sitting in front of the fire at the Grove Park Inn, sipping hot chocolate. Still, I digress.
When you create two little beings, they are such a part of you that there’s no not missing them. There’s no glad you haven’t seen them in a while or relieved you aren’t changing diapers and scrambling eggs right now. I don’t think it’s a routine thing either… I don’t miss them because they’re a part of my routine and I’m a scheduled person. I miss them because they’re a part of me. They’re my favorite people. They’re opening my eyes to the world that they see and the feelings they’re discovering for the first time, not to mention milestones like learning to walk or pooping in the potty that I might be missing!
I also know that time with adults (read: people with wider vocabularies) and time to be by myself is healthy. I know that getting a full night’s sleep is a good thing, as is building and keeping up relationship with women that I love. It was a relaxing and rejuvenating time; we are an easy-going group, who all know each other well enough that we can skip pleasantries and get straight to what’s going on in our lives. And since we’re all at different points in our lives (ie: I’m the only mom) it’s fun to hear about things that we’ve passed, or things we haven’t come to yet. It’s good for me to remember that my life isn’t only inside my four walls with the three people I see most often. It stretches and encourages me that not all of us are in the same trenches.
Who says when you grow up, you don’t like taking hilarious photos?
Recently, I have had another wave of my friends – real life and blog world – get pregnant (with their seconds and thirds, mostly). Talking to them about their weird symptoms and questioning what is “normal” during a pregnancy got me thinking. What is normal? Is there such a thing as a normal pregnancy? Are you similarly pregnant each time, or do you have a different pregnancy with each child? Here are my thoughts:
1. Whatever happens to you is your “normal”. Feel great? That’s normal! Super tired and cranky? That’s normal! Only willing to eat watermelon and macaroni and cheese? That’s normal! For me, normal was feeling great and eating either raw food (salad, fruit, etc) and cereal. Weird, I know.
2. Fatigue is real. I repeat, the fatigue is real. I don’t care how far long you are, or what number child you’re having. You will experience fatigue sometimes. For me, it’s typically first trimester, and a little bit third trimester when I’m doing too much with that big belly and extra weight.
3. Pregnancy symptoms can start really early. Those people who tell you that the first several weeks you can’t even tell you’re pregnant… are lying. Breast soreness, increased appetite, backaches, headaches, fatigue – it can all start as early as BEFORE YOU EVEN KNOW YOU’RE PREGNANT. For real.
4. Maternity pants fit no one. Over-the-belly ones, at least. Especially because you might have a week that they fit you perfectly, but you know darn well that they won’t fit you if you are only 23 weeks, and they won’t fit you if you’re 37 weeks. When I’m pregnant, I wear under-the-belly bottoms almost exclusively.
7 months with second baby and I’m wearing my regular old pajama pants at every opportunity, because my maternity pants are so ill-fitting.
5. Getting a cold feels like the flu. A smile was cold you caught from your preschooler can turn into a nasty snot fest that has you bedridden, begging Hubby to make you hot tea and grilled cheese.
6. Telling (and not telling) your news is equally stressful and fun. It’s hard to decide when and how and to whom to share the news. It’s taboo to tell too early, but waiting is tough when you cut out alcohol and caffeine and can’t fit in your clothes like you used to.
7. Once you’ve had a miscarriage, you may drive yourself crazy waiting for signs of another one. With J, I was fearful every time I felt a tiny bit of pain in my belly, or when I was really tired or had done a lot in a day without resting.
8. Learning to sleep on your left side for nine months is hard, but could be permanent. I’ve slept on my left side almost every night since I changed to doing that while pregnant with EK. I was always a stomach sleeper before.
9. Hormones are real, and scary. I cried a lot, about good things and bad, and I was a little… on edge (read: snappy. Sorry Hubby.). And unfortunately it didn’t really go away until the baby was a couple months old. It takes a while to get back to normal!
10. Insatiable hunger is a thing. I was hungry and craving things from the moment I was pregnant, it seemed. Different things all the time, but trying to quench my hunger with fruits and veggies didn’t always work. I frequently needed carbs and proteins to really stave off hunger more than a few minutes. And the only time I went hours without being hungry was sleeping at night, and sometimes not even then.
I’m sure I’ve posted it before, but it’s my favorite scale shot of how big I was last Christmas, with EK sprawled across me. ❤
So there are 10 of my personal truths about being pregnant. Now I want to know: Are you currently pregnant? What was your normal when you were? Were your pregnancies similar? Did you do anything differently?
Today I’m linking up (belatedly haha) with Hannah at Joyful Life for the next installment of the Currently series. I love building community with these fantastic bloggers who inspire me. Join us!
T H I N K I N G || As you might know, I’ve been training for a 10K that’s on October 25th. I ran 6.23 miles (just a little over) on Monday for the first time – usually I have been doing between 4 and 5 miles – and it killed me. I am still sore. I thought that when I lost the stroller (I usually run with my double jogger and both kids) the last mile and a half would come easily. It didn’t. I managed to finish, but I was really dragging my booty at the end. I’m hoping I can get at least three more of those actual 10k-length runs in between now and the race. I’m not going for a certain time… I just want to finish!
M A K I N G || This makes me think of crafting… but Lord knows I haven’t been doing that. I love to craft, but just haven’t had the time. I will stick with making friends. Building relationships. That’s a good thing to be making, right? I’ve been learning more about the gals in my women’s small group and I love it!
A N T I C I P A T I N G || I’m really looking forward to church this Sunday. I’m leading worship at a different service since J and his cousins are getting baptized, and all of our family will be in town. It’s going to be a joyous occasion all around!
W E A R I N G || Scarves. And. Boots. And. Boots. And. Scarves. Seriously. I’m wrecked because the weather hasn’t really gotten that cool for more than a few hours at a time, so I’m sweating in my boots and scarves. Oh well, it’s October, and I’m in the right and the weather is in the wrong.
T H A N K F U L F O R || I’m thankful right now for a mother-in-law that I not only get along with really well, but who also speaks truth and goodness into me, Hubby and the kids. She’s a fantastic lady, and she is one of the reasons our family is so darn awesome.
Here’s a little glimpse of our fall photo session from last Saturday. I’ll go into detail about it later… But we love working with Sophie Van Zandt – the best 16-year-old photographer you’ve ever seen! She always cranks out tons of cute photos of my kids and our family.
I love linking up with Jenna at A Mama Collective and all the other fantastic gals for the Currently series. Here goes nothin’!
Thinking about high school. I never really reminisce like this, but my ten-year reunion was this past weekend. I saw some great people I haven’t seen in years, and partied with some good friends (and teachers!) that I don’t get to see often. On the one hand, I love seeing people in person and looking into their eyes while we catch up. On the other hand, thank goodness for social media because otherwise I’d have reverted into my awkward, high school self because I wouldn’t have known anything about anyone’s life nowadays. It was actually easier because I knew a little bit and was able to make conversation. Anyway, it was a blast. I loved reconnecting with several people I never get to see.
Listening to Kari Jobe singing “Forever” by Bethel Music. Here’s the link for my favorite video:
This song (we actually talked about in our worship team meeting last week) is a perfect example of a great worship song. Structurally, dynamically, lyrically, and just in the open-ended nature and worship opportunity that the song creates. One of my favorite things is that it all starts with a reflection on the cross. In short, I am digging it.
Thankful for Hubby. I’m always thankful for him, but I’m in a season right now of really appreciating the way he loves me well, the love he has (and shows!) for our kids, and the commitment he has to our family. He is an excellent man, folks.
Loving the fact that TV has started back up for the fall. I know that’s a silly thing, but I am so happy!
Enjoying my new small groups. Hubby and I are a part of a community group that meets every other Sunday. Six couples, all in different stages of life, and I love it. Such fun people! I’m also in a new women’s small group on Thursday mornings. The gals I got linked with are great, different ages/walks of life, some I know and some I don’t yet. It’s already been fun, and we’ve only met twice! Yay for beginning this year full of great new relationships!
Doing life with my mama friends these past couple of months has been awesome. For instance, this morning, my friend Steph popped in for a cup of coffee after dropping her son off at preschool. We just visited, chatted and watched the kids play. I love being so close to her (geographically and as friends) that she can pop over while I’m still in my pajamas and we can just drink coffee and be.
Join the link up party! What are you up to Currently?
Today is a great day! At Salem College (my alma mater) there is a perfect day of fun and games and some healthy competition. There is a day of cancelled classes, singing, dancing, acting and showing off awesomeness. There is a day of cheers and chants, skits, songs, and camaraderie. There is a day of sisterhood.
Today is that day. This Wednesday in September. This chilly morning with an afternoon that will probably be warm. This is the perfect day for the women to show what they have prepared, to wear the t-shirts they designed, to compete with each other while supporting each other, to make some noise, and for seniors, probably shed a few tears.
I’m taking EK to meet up with a few alum friends at the skits tonight. We are wearing shirts from our own Fall Fests, years ago, and we will be thinking of our own skits as we watch these tonight. EK will probably watch for all of 5 minutes, and then get squirmy and want to run around. But I want her to see some women who have worked hard (even if it’s just on a fun, social activity) and are proud of themselves and each other. And also hilarious. For certain, they will be hilarious.
In honor of an incredible college career with incredible women, I celebrate Salem College, I celebrate fall, and I celebrate the women I loved then and love now. Sisterhood strong, girls. Sisterhood strong.
Our first Fall Fest!Our pop-art version of President Thrift.I think we were going for “Like a Virgin”.Junior year – Asian InvasionOur Chinese dragon – Ralph?My Little Sis, SydneySenior Year Fall Fest Kick-Off (Back in Black, obviously.)Come Together. Welcome to the 60s.
It’s fall. The weather is cooling off (thankfully), the pumpkins are out in front of every grocery store, Halloween decorations are popping up everywhere, and all I hear on the radio is that the stupid fair is coming soon. My daughter has started preschool. Church activities have been going for weeks. But something feels… weird.
It’s the first time in my life that I haven’t gone “back to school”. When I graduated high school, I went to college. When I graduated college, I taught middle school chorus for three years, then elementary school music for three more years. And here I am. Not back to school.
I’m not regretting this decision at all. I am happy to be working part-time at my amazing church, and spending the bulk of my time loving my children and my husband well. But still, as I am settling into a schedule (mostly by force – I need that routine!) I still have so much unstructured time. I’m used to cramming my lunch in 18 minutes, multi-tasking like a boss, holding my bladder for an abnormally long time, and changing what I’m teaching (read: living, breathing, doing, thinking about) every 40 minutes – and often sooner than that.
But you know what else I was used to? Being drained at 3:00pm. Working some nights after working all day. Thinking about the needs, wants, thoughts, and jibes of hundreds of children that weren’t mine. Missing my own children all day while I was off taking care of someone else’s. Feeling bad that I had nothing left for my family after I’d spent myself on my job.
That last one was my kicker. Because truly, I enjoy working. I love having a schedule (there it is again), having a reason to leave the house every day, and sowing into something outside my home and family. I love teaching, and the opportunities the job gave me to really love on some kids who needed it. I love instilling knowledge and love of music into kids who need something at school for be good at, when math and reading don’t come easily. But for right now, Hubby and my own kids are what I need to focus on.
I respect you, working moms – especially teaching moms, because I have been among your ranks, in those trenches with you. But I am incredibly grateful that I could make the decision to leave you for a while. I’ll return, but right now, I’m thinking of you as a wrangle my ridiculously strong son into his clothes for the day, make several breakfasts and eat whatever the kids don’t, and microwave my coffee for the third time. I’m thinking of you, because I know many of you are happily at jobs you love, knowing your kids are happy in their schools and day cares or with daddies and nannies. I’m thinking of you, also, if you’re wishing you were doing what I’m doing but it’s not possible. While it’s weird that I’m not back to school, I choose to rest in the unstructured craziness and enjoy it.
Hey! Stop throwing those tomatoes! I’m not trying to say that every single thing about pregnancy was a piece of cake. For instance, when I was pregnant with EK, I was exhausted dead tired for the whole 10 (yes, 10) months. I don’t mean kinda tired. I mean, I came home from work every day at 3:00pm, collapsed in the bed, woke up to a plate of food from a concerned Hubby around 6 or 7, and passed out again until the next morning. We jokingly tell people I disappeared for the whole first trimester. The good part about that? I was only sick once, because I was asleep most of the time. I attribute the non-sickness to learning very early that hungry=sick for my body, so as soon as I was the tiniest bit hungry, I started eating. I curbed the nausea with food.
But yes, on the whole, pregnancy has agreed with me. I had the glow. I gained weight only in my belly. I felt great (read: wasn’t sick) and had great deliveries. And (gasp!) I lost all my weight pretty quickly. I’ve told all my friends who haven’t had kids yet that I’ll do it for them… I love being pregnant that much. The miracle of life inside me was enough to overshadow any feelings that were less than positive.
I do, however, feel like I controlled part of my experience. I ate extremely healthily during my pregnancies. I busted my butt as soon as I could to lose the rest of that weight and get into my jeans and dresses. My babies both got huge quickly, so I didn’t have a tiny little thing I held with one arm… I had huge squirmy tanks that took both arms, good core strength, and a wide stance to wrangle. I’m too busy and active and crazy to sit around, eat a dozen donuts, and watch a fourth chick flick. I’m just not that kind of gal. Yes, I’m blessed with good genes, and that has a lot to do with it. But none of these things should give you license to dislike me or make comments about how easy it was for me and how hard it was for you.
Pregnancy ain’t no joke – for anyone. You’re growing a life in that womb of yours! But for Heaven’s sake, try to be happy for yourself, and for other gals who are pregnant. It helps to change your thoughts to positive ones, and try to focus on the good stuff. I know that’s easier said than done if you’re hanging over a toilet or glowing green instead of “adorable”. Moping about how awful you feel doesn’t help. Moping after your baby is born that your friend is faring better than you were won’t change anything, either. Be happy for a girl, can ya? You’re going to have the sweetest little light you ever laid eyes on at the end of this tunnel. Do the stretchmarks. Milk those maternity clothes for as long as you can. Love the dirty hair and hairy legs you’ll have for longer than you’ll want to admit. You worked for it! But don’t grumble about the women you know who didn’t get the stretchmarks, wear their pre-pregnancy jeans, shave their legs and wash their hair. To each her own! The struggle is real for everyone, even if it doesn’t look the same as yours.
Some of my people know this story… my family, close friends, prayer warrior friends of mine. I hope that by telling it, someone will be encouraged, someone will feel less alone, someone will be justified in their anguish. This story isn’t cute or sweet, and it doesn’t leave anything out. It’s just heartache and details and sadness and redemption.
Hubby and I tried for seven months to get pregnant with EK. I am well aware that seven months isn’t very long to try to get pregnant. It seemed long going through it, but as the cliché goes, God’s timing is always perfect. Hubby and I have always liked the idea of having our children fairly close together, so when she was born, we decided to “not not try”. Pardon the double negative, but that was our short way of saying we weren’t actively “trying” to get pregnant right away, but we weren’t actively preventing getting pregnant either.
When EK was ten months old, I got pregnant. I knew early on, told Hubby, and we somehow kept the joy and excitement of a sibling for EK to ourselves for two weeks. We finally told my parents (who were visiting at the time) when I estimated myself to be about 6 weeks along. With utterly cruel timing, the following week I started having terrible cramps. Not “implantation cramping” or “stretch cramping” or whatever other excuse they give you to tell you “it’s totally normal”. I was having honest-to-goodness, menstruation-like cramps. I tried to keep calm. I tried to monitor my body. I tried to wish and hope and pray them away. And when the spotting started, I called my OB’s office, heard the nurses say it was normal, read on various medical websites that it was normal. But I knew. Somehow, deep down I already knew what was happening.
I went in for an ultrasound, because my OB wanted to rule out an ectopic pregnancy. He was able to rule that out but said it was too early to tell much else. I went home. Cried a little lot. Rested. Tried to pretend everything was fine. Hubby was preparing for a ski trip with his brothers and some buddies, so I tried my best to put on a happy face and not share my darkest concern with him. But two days later, I knew for sure. My worst fears were all but confirmed. My cramping was a lot worse, and so was the bleeding. Even though my head kept wanting to hope, my heart was resigned to the loss.
I had gotten up at 4:00am that morning when Hubby got up to leave for his trip. He had offered to stay, but what good would it have done? Whether he stayed or went wouldn’t change anything. As I sat in the bathroom, weeping, I could even tell the moment that was the peak. It was done. Over. There would be residual damage, of course, but the event was finished. When I was hugging Hubby and sending him on his trip, I told him it was over. He held me for a long time, and left. I knew asking him to stay, like I really wanted to, would be ridiculous. I had already seen that he felt helpless, and was miserable for me much more than for the situation.
Later we would talk at length about this, about how he was excited at the idea of the baby, but it was just that – an idea. For the partner, it’s just an idea until they start to see the belly grow, feel the kicks, see the movements. For the woman who is pregnant though, the motherhood starts the moment you know that baby is there, just a microscopic little bean. Your feelings in that moment, combined inevitably with your hormones, overwhelm you. You start thinking and planning, praying and seeking wisdom from those other mothers in your life. You love that little thing… that little nameless, shapeless thing, because that’s what the Lord created you to do. You begin to neglect other things in your life as you start to wonder what the baby will look like, how far along you (actually, officially) are, whether it’s a boy or girl, whether you’ll even find out until the birth. It’s incredible how quickly you love that little thing, and every possibility it has.
But to have that little thing taken, snatched from you without reason or ceremony, that will break your heart. “What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently?” The answer is probably nothing. The poor little thing never had a chance. And neither did your heart.
In the next few weeks that seemed to drag, I held onto my first baby, my sweet Ella Kate, so tightly. I thanked the Lord for her, tried to believe that it was still possible for me to have a second such miracle. But if there wasn’t, EK was perfect, and I would do my best to be happy with only her. But I wanted her to have a sibling! I wanted her to experience that bond. I know many only children who wish they had shared their childhood with another. I didn’t want to keep that experience from her. I couldn’t help but wonder, no matter how hard I tried not to, if I had lost the only chance at another little miracle.
After the miscarriage, my doctor told me it could be 4-12 weeks before my cycle would start again. You guessed it – all that stuff about every woman’s body being different and all. He also said we should wait till the cycle started back to try to get pregnant again. And oh, did we ever want to try. I didn’t know there was a gaping, second-child-shaped hole in my life until I glimpsed it and lost it. But we waited to “try”. We took it slow, went about our busy lives. Then one day, chatting with two of my girlfriends, I started to count. I counted the days and weeks since my sadness had begun. There were so many… thirteen weeks, to be exact. How long had my doctor told me to wait? 4-12? Well heck, there ought to be something wrong with me if I haven’t started at this point. What could be the hold up? This girl needs to get pregnant!
When I got home, I found out what the hold up was. I was pregnant, there in that very moment. In the midst of my anguish and waiting and wallowing and praying, I got pregnant. Without trying, without stressing over dates and temperatures and wives’ tales. I couldn’t believe it – women don’t get pregnant like that, right? Our bodies need time and healing and rest, right? I guess sometimes not. And when I called my doctor’s office, the nurse I spoke to estimated (based on my miscarriage date) that I got pregnant about eight weeks after the miscarriage, and made me an appointment for when I should have been abut eight weeks along. At the appointment, the ultrasound tech (the same sweet Kayla who had walked with me through both my pregnancy with EK and my shorter, sadder one) burst out laughing and said, “You’re 10.5 weeks pregnant! Due before the end of the calendar year!” What an incredible surprise, to be that near the baby’s arrival! I was almost out of my first trimester, and I hadn’t even known I was expecting.
EK’s big announcement!
Part of the beauty of my story is the way Joseph obliterated my raw sadness. His appearance showed me that my body wasn’t broken. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. A few short months later, he arrived the day before his due date, round and pink and perfect. He’s the symbol of redemption in the story. The proof that something blessed and sweet was on my horizon.
The night before J was born, EK still in her mismatched Christmas pajamas, snuggling her brother-to-be.
In my story, I just have one. Just one little being I lost and will one day meet in heaven. But I know there are countless women who have lost more, much more, more than even those little babies that should have been. I count myself lucky to have two healthy children, and just one comparatively brief time of sadness. I don’t sit here thinking I’ve had it the worst you can have. But every miscarriage hurts. It still hurts. It is such a deep sadness, in your bones. But look for the redemption. I won’t tell you the redemption will look like mine. It might not be a child at all. But it will be there. Every situation can and will be redeemed. Let yourself believe it.
I guess deep down, I’ve always known I’m a feminist. I’m not talking about a bra-burning, anti-makeup, dresses like a guy, “butch” feminist. I’m a feminist by definition: the advocacy of women’s rights on the ground of political, social, and economic equality to men. I had a mom who raised me to know that I could do anything. I had my own opinions, and I shared them. I didn’t have to play with dolls or read girly books, although I did those things. But I also went to Space Camp (yeah, call me a nerd, why don’t you?!), climbed trees, went hiking in the woods behind my house, and read about the Hardy Boys alongside my beloved Nancy Drew. I collected Hot Wheels and played with Legos, then turned right around and dressed up my brother in princess outfits. I’d say I’m a well-balanced human.
But this morning, up (way too) early nursing J, I was playing around on Facebook and saw this video that my dear friend Sydney (her amazing blog is here) had just reposted from Good Housekeeping (original article and video are here). She has a little girl a few months younger than EK, and she went to the same women’s college I did – she was my little sister in fact! *proud big sis moment* I teared up as I watched girls fall into gender roles, and boys perpetuate them, as the director asked them to demonstrate running (and throwing and hitting) “like a girl”. The initial responses were all the same – running as though you were in high heels, arms flung out to the side, tiny steps, hair tosses.
Finally, the youngest girls of all come out, and redefine everything. A girl in a frilly pink dress, who looks to be about first grade age, is asked, “What do you think it means to run like a girl?” and she responds “…run as fast as you can.” That’s it, folks. The moral of the story is do everything the best you can. Girls, young women, old women, ladies, gals, you are every bit as good as guys are, and oftentimes better.
My little girl will hear that every day. EK will grow up knowing that she can do anything and be anything she wants to. She will know her gender has no bearing on how good she will be at any activity. She can try anything she wants, she can form her own opinions and learn about any subject she is curious about. If that’s fairy tales and ballet, fabulous. If it’s muscle cars and rugby, I’ll be thrilled. I just want to raise her as a strong, confident girl. Anything she does, she’ll do it like a girl. Anything she does, she’ll do it with her own spin. Anything she does will be amazing and I’ll be a proud mama.
What are your thoughts about the #LikeAGirl campaign? Do you agree that we are on the cusp of breaking gender roles and empowering our girls?
We're Only Hsuman... 