Category Archives: Loss

Turn and Face the Strange (and heartbreakingly unexpected) Ch-Ch-Changes

by Stephanie Posted on February 7, 2013

 

I’m not naive.  I knew full well that my life was going to change completely when I had my son.  I was totally prepared for sleepless nights, painful recovery, and drastic change in my social life; but I have to be honest, I wasn’t prepared for the loss of some very close friendships.  Sadly, it turns out that I have some childless friends that have adopted a very “US versus THEM” mentality.

I guess I was naive when I assumed that years of friendship would get us over that hurdle.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.  I’ve noticed a serious gap in some of my relationships and to say the least, I’m a little heart broken.  After all, I did help some of these pals get through some pretty difficult times.  Is it too much to expect that after years of friendship, they would be there to see me though the birth of my first child (or at least check up on me with a quick phone call)?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I do have to admit that I am partly to blame.  My whole life (and every FB posting) has become all about my son.  In their defense, they probably can’t relate to me anymore.

Luckily, I have also noticed that my friendships with those that do have children have grown even stronger.  Honestly, I’m not sure I would have made it through the first few months of parenthood without them.  I had no idea what havoc my hormones would reek on my sanity.  Without the constant reassurance from my friends that what I was feeling was normal, I would have probably lost it. Really, who’s to say that I didn’t?  Kidding. Totally kidding.

I guess it takes major life changes to help you weed out the petty, superficial things and relationships that really don’t work for you anymore.  While it is undoubtedly painful to come to the realization that some of these friendships have become petty and superficial, I can only look to the future to help heal those wounds.

In the end, it’s been an interesting transition.  I’m finding myself forging new friendships for myself and my son.  Thanks to “Mommy and Me” classes, I’ve managed to meet a few moms that have babies around the same age as my boy.  The relationships are still pretty new and we are all on our best “mommy” behavior. Who knows?  Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a few cocktail swilling, naughty joke telling mammas to pass the time with and help make up for my losses.  After all, those other friendships didn’t happen overnight either.  I guess only time will tell.  I’ll keep you posted…

 

Posted in Adjusting to Parenthood, Community, Learning Experience, Loss, Memories, Mental Health, New Baby, parent-child activities, Parenting Advice, Villagers | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Citizens Aren’t Powerless to Prevent Atrocities

by Emily Meehan Posted on December 18, 2012

I’ve known Adam Lanza too. (He isn’t my son.) He had a different name, but the same profile. We’ve all met these people. They live in every community. And it’s not too late to stop them.

They are too disabled to hold a job. Their disability doesn’t lie in their limbs, but in their minds. They live with their parents, or in a group home, have no friends, and no reason to leave the house.

This is not the picture of a happy life. Shunned by society, they have only their family, or hired caretakers, who may be very sick of them. Just think about how you feel after a week with your parents. Then multiply that by 1,040. That’s how many weeks Adam Lanza spent with his mother and almost nobody else, from what it sounds like.

The solution proposed by experts and amateurs alike: Adam Lanza, and Jared Loughner, and the other mass murderers were mentally ill. They needed help, from mental health professionals.

Adam Lanza did need help. As my brother said on the phone yesterday, “six-years-olds draw hearts and want attention. They have nothing to give but love. Anyone who would kill them…it’s sick.”

It’s heinous. And such indiscriminate violence must be borne out of great pain. When animals and humans are in a great deal of pain, their cognitive functioning is not optimal. High emotions block rational thinking. Targets are missed. Social cues are misread. They lash out or in, hurting others indiscriminately, or hurting themselves. A mental health professional can help a person identify this behavior. He or she can prescribe medication to improve functioning, teach coping skills, and refer the client to community resources and activities. But here’s what mental health professionals can’t do: they can’t reduce the pain.

The pain that comes from isolation and dysfunctional relationships with family members who many disabled people depend upon for survival will not go away through talk therapy alone. A mental health professional is not a friend. And being a mental patient is not a role that carries esteem. Humans need friends, esteem, and activities that offer a sense of achievement in order to stay healthy.

The Adam Lanzas and Jared Loughners of the world needed to be part of society in order for that pain to go away. They needed to have roles that prevented them from getting so sick. They needed to be welcomed somewhere, and to do something well. A mental health worker could have helped them find those things if society had provided them.

There are plenty of roles for disabled people: bagging groceries as a volunteer, discussing American presidents with old folks in an assisted living facility, walking the neighbors’ dogs, weeding gardens for a landscaper, playing chess at the corner store or park, participating in synagogue or church events, writing fan fiction for a thriving fan fiction community, or working with a group of Linux users to create a new Java-based widget platform.

When society obsesses over the need for mental healthcare for the Adam Lanzas of the world, it passes the buck. It undermines the importance of social acceptance for disabled people. It’s like a person with a messy house who throws a banana peel on the floor and screams, “I need more housecleaners!”

If we keep our houses cleaner, we won’t be dependent on housecleaners.

We can welcome disabled people and offer them small roles that get them out of the house or into a social milieu. When they apply for jobs at our businesses, we can give them small, manageable tasks once a week. When they apply to join our synagogues but can’t afford the membership fee, we can waive it. When they apply to join our quilting group, bowling team, or gardening club, we can accept them, even if they make us slightly uncomfortable. We can greet them with kindness and conversation when we encounter them in public or at their homes.

If having disabled people around frightens you, that’s understandable. Check with their family members, their doctors or therapists before inviting them into your world. We do that with employees for good reason. But don’t categorically reject them. Because that’s what has occurred in the case of Adam Lanza and Jared Loughner, and the result is atrocious.

We can cry out for more psychologists, more welfare spending on mental health services, do nothing ourselves, and accept the collateral damage. Or we can step up and be citizens. Those are the choices.

Emily Meehan is a writer and a children’s advocate who is producing a feature film she wrote after spending six months working with foster children living in a Northern California group home. Learn more about the film here.

 

Posted in Altruism, Behavior, Child Advocacy, Education, Family, Loss, Sharing, social awareness, Special Needs, Teaching Compassion, Theory, Villagers | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Sandy Hook: Let this be a turning point…

by Stephanie and Julie Posted on December 17, 2012

Of course we all know of the monstrous events that took place in Newtown, Connecticut on Friday.  As a nation we collectively weep, ache, and pray for peace for those who were lost and those who survive them.

I don’t believe it is truly possible to empathize with the families who lost loved ones at Sandy Hook Elementary that day.  I cannot fathom what they are feeling.  The pain will not go away, but with time they will get used to its presence.

There must be a cure to such shocking, incorrigible acts of violence in our society.  But there is not just one easy answer.  I don’t know how we arrived in a place that such news has become commonplace, but I fear that the population may lose their fury for change as time goes on.  We cannot allow this.

It is our responsibility as parents and caregivers to ensure that we continue a productive conversation, and push for change so that our children can learn and grow in a positive and safe environment.

We must look within ourselves, within our morals, and within the bounds of our culture for the means to create a more compassionate community.  A place where people are never so ostracized that they act out in violence, a place where it is not so easy to get weapons, and a place where we can provide help to those in need without stigma or judgement.

While there are no words to adequately express our sorrow for the victims and their families, as parents, Americans, and humans our hearts pour love onto those who have suffered and those who still do.

Rest in Peace

Charlotte Bacon, 6                                        

Rachel D’Avino, 29

Olivia Engel, 6                                              

Dylan Hockley, 6

Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung, 47                          

Jesse Lewis, 6

Ana Marquez-Greene, 6                                  

Grace McDonnell, 7

Anne Marie Murphy, 52                                 

Emilie Parker, 6

Noah Pozner, 6                                          

 Jessica Rekos, 6

Lauren Rousseau, 30                                     

Mary Sherlach, 56

Victoria Soto, 27                                        

Daniel Barden, 7

Josephine Gay, 7                                          

Madeleine Hsu, 6

Catherine Hubbard, 6                                  

Chase Kowalski, 7

James Mattioli, 6                                        

Jack Pinto, 6

Caroline Previdi, 6                                      

Avielle Richman, 6

Benjamin Wheeler, 6                                    

Allison Wyatt, 6

 

 

 

Posted in Behavior, Child Advocacy, Community, Discipline, Loss, Memories, Mental Health, School, social awareness, Teaching Compassion, Villagers | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What’s in a name?…………Everything

by Gabrielle Posted on March 15, 2012

As I approached  the playground at my daughter’s preschool the other day, I heard her teacher call out “Calliope your mom’s here!”  Hearing my daughter’s polysyllabic name spoken out loud caused my heart to crow with delight.

Strange as it may sound, the only aspect of my daughter starting preschool that I quite literally dreaded, was anticipating how I’d deal with the, seemingly, inevitable adoption of a nickname for her.   But, as she is now getting settled into her 3rd month of preschool and things are getting comfortable, I am jumping for joy that no nickname has yet made an appearance.  During my daughter’s first week of school, there was some discussion about abbreviating her 4 syllable name to CiCi, Cali, or some other butchered version. Her teachers were concerned that ‘Calliope’ might be too difficult for the other children to pronounce.  They gently prodded, “Well, what do you call her at home?” To which I bristled and replied simply,  ”We call her….her name.”

Let me provide some background on my particular sensitivity to this subject.  I had THE longest full name in my h.s. graduating class.  My full maiden name has 29 letters, 9 syllables, and a hyphen (my struggles with my LAST name are a tale for another day).  As a child and adolescent I constantly had my first name abbreviated to the only slightly shorter (by one syllable) “Gabby,” which coincidentally and appropriately described my personality, then…and now!   But what child wants their nickname synonymous with a less than desirable, personal trait?  A kid with an overbite doesnt want to be nicknamed “Bucky”, for instance.  And yet, no matter how much I hinted, and even demanded to be called by my full name, the dreaded nickname always reappeared.  Eventually, I begrudgingly accepted the reality that the nickname was here to stay. And even tried to take ownership of it..”My name is Gabby and I live up to it.”  But, I’ve always insisted upon never being introduced by my nickname.

I knew when I chose my daughter’s name, that I’d be saddling her with this same burden.  Hers is not only a long name but one that can be easily mispronounced.  But the story behind her naming makes it so that I hope she is proud of it, and won’t tolerate having it abbreviated.

As a little girl I was a HUGE fan of Greek Mythology, and when I stumbled upon the name “Calliope” (incidentally, the Muse of eloquence, heroic poetry, and beautiful voice), I fell in love.   I resolved that if I ever had a daughter, that would be her name.  Fast forward a couple of decades, to the day I found out I was pregnant with a baby girl.  I had lost my mother to Cancer a year before I got pregnant, and was left with many conflicting emotions about my recent loss and the news that I was expecting.

The day my mom passed away, a small hummingbird came and sat on a branch near me and my sister.  I turned to my sister and said “That’s mom’s spirit.  She wants us to know its going to be okay.”  The notion of our mother’s spirit being represented by a hummingbird stuck.  So imagine my utter disbelief when several months into the pregnancy, I looked up alternate meanings for the name “Calliope” only to discover… that it is a species of hummingbird.  People often speak of “signs” – I don’t think the Universe could have provided me with a more clear cut message.  Not only were things going to be okay, they were meant to be.  I truly believe that my daughter’s name is her destiny.  So why would I, or one day she, want to see it changed to suit the preferences of  the lazy-tongued?

These days naming is almost a sport, with parents giving their kids atypical and unique names like, Kennedy, Addison, and Sparrow.  Celebrities especially seem to be leading the way with this trend.  As society becomes accepting of longer and/or more unusual names, does this mean our kids are less likely to have nicknames? Perhaps.  Does it matter?  I think so.

A great deal of our identity is wrapped up in our names.   Would I have been so chatty if I’d been named something else?  Would it be harder to stand up for myself now, if I hadn’t had to stand up for my name?  Religion, cultural and ethnic heritage are huge factors in naming, but so are our unique life experiences.  I think nicknames strip us of a big part of this identity and uniqueness.

Now of course there are people who like or even insist upon having a nickname.  I just don’t happen to be one of them.  But I do understand that there is a familiarity afforded by the nickname that can even be termed endearment.  And while I don’t think nicknames should be yet another issue tacked onto the banner of political correctness, I would say that the next time you encounter someone with a long or unusual name, that you might be inclined to shorten, inquire as to what their preference is first.  Because in asking someone to sacrifice one little syllable, you might really be asking them to give up a big piece of who they are.

Posted in Family, Loss, Memories, Parenting, Villagers | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

How & Why I Became A House Wife (By The Gal Who Swore She’d Never Be One)

by Gabrielle Posted on December 9, 2011

…..And I did swear over and over again, throughout my years in the mosh pits of the DC punk scene…later while studying gender stratification in college, and again while working behind the scenes at some of DCs biggest nightclubs and concerts.

I spent years mocking and pitying the boring, oppressed life of the housewife….Those poor women living an outdated lifestyle, saddled with the burden of raising kids and cleaning house, and deprived of the freedom to pursue their own careers and enjoy life on their own terms.

I couldn’t imagine ever giving up my “freedom” to go to work, in favor of what I perceived as, the messy, irritating, task of child rearing.  Maybe that sounds harsh but growing up I perceived (through media and other sources) that raising kids was an annoyance.  Kids are loud, they make everything sticky, they throw tantrums, they keep you from going out on a whim, etc.

This is all true (as we all surely know!) but the other side of things is what I didn’t anticipate… I didnt foresee the moments of wonder and peace, when you hold them in your arms as they doze off, or see them pick a flower for the first time, and the many many other instances of tranquility and perfect love you get as a parent…

I certainly don’t recall my own parents having many of those moments. I come from a home rocked by illness and addiction. My father was a brilliant man, but also a manic alcoholic (he was in rehab 6 times that I was aware of). In addition he was diagnosed with terminal Cancer when I was 8 and passed away when I was 17 (Note: He did finally achieve sobriety 3 years before he passed away).

On top of that my parents ran a small non-profit that was competing for project grant money with agencies like USAID and Unicef. They worked very, very hard and for extremely long hours…Long story short, when I was growing up my parents were always busy and stressed, and later sick and weak.  Several years after my father passed away my mom was diagnosed with liver Cancer and she passed in 2007.

For over 20 years our family was polluted with the weight and strain of anticipating certain doom. That in itself is like being sick. When I met my now-husband I insisted that I had no interest in marriage or kids.  After all who wants to create a family when you’re just increasing the number of people you love, whom you can lose?

What finally did convince me to marry him happened when he held me, on the 2nd anniversary of my moms passing, as I cried. He looked me in the eyes and explained softly, that the only way I could fill the hole in my heart from LOSING family was by CREATING FAMILY. It was such a simple concept but one that had eluded me for years, until that moment.

We eloped a few months later and I was pregnant 6 weeks after that. At the time I was doing work that was very physically demanding and I had to quit. I insisted to him and myself, that I would return to work once the baby was born. My husband supported the idea of me going back to work, if thats what I wanted to do.

Then my daughter was born, and wanting to immerse myself in raising and loving her, I decided to put off going back to work for a while longer.  My husband, thank our lucky stars, makes enough money to support the household.

And it suddenly occurred to me that I am indeed VERY lucky that we are able to afford having the FREEDOM for me stay home to raise our children…I am aware now of what a blessing it is to be there for my kids all the time, to witness all those unique, golden (yes, often messy) moments children have. My own parents didnt have that luxury, I was a latchkey kid from the start. But my kids wont be.

I will be the suburban mom, driving them to practice and parties. I’ll be there to cook their meals, help with homework, give advice, nag them, fight with them, laugh and play with them, clean up their messes and teach them to clean up after themselves.

Because though I had most of those things to a certain degree, I always knew the enormous amount of stress my parents were under, kept them from being “those” types, the super hands-on, around all the time kind of parents. But its the kind of parent I’d like to be and I am grateful that I have that opportunity. Parenting is a HUGE responsibility and a mammoth task but it is such a joy every moment (even if its in retrospect!) and I am honored to have so much time with my kids.

Given my own life experience I know that being a stay at home mom or “housewife” is both a blessing, and a choice, that has given me and my children a lifestyle of stability and peace that I didn’t have.

I don’t know what the Universe has in store for me and my family, but I am enjoying my life and living in the moment.  And I have found surprisingly, that being a housewife turned out to be the exact thing, I never knew, I always wanted.

Posted in Family, Gender Roles, Loss, SAHM, Stereotypes, Villagers | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Move Over Bob Vila: Building a Beautiful Village for my Baby

by Stephanie Posted on December 6, 2011

After losing my mother 3 years ago (4 months before my wedding) I’ve come to the sad realization that my baby is really going to miss out on her.  She embodied what we strive for here at takesavillage.net.

When my sister’s husband died at 27 (leaving her with a 1 and 2 year old) my mother stepped in and helped raise her two sons.  Not only did she help raise her own 5 children and 13 grandchildren, but she helped raise dozens of foster children from the Los Angeles and Bakersfield area for over 20 years.

She was a strict but loving & affectionate matriarch.  She was the stereotypical Mexican-American grandma.   She was born and raised here in the US, but her parents were from Mexico and when my mother died – a lot went with her.  She was our last link to a lot of the great Mexican traditions we grew up with.

Without her we have managed to keep quite a few of our traditions.  For example, we still go through all the labor intensive work of making tamales every Christmas while most of our neighbors order theirs from restaurants.  But things like hearing Spanish music reverberating through the house, or the drama of novelas (Mexican soap operas) are all gone.  We are left with a cultural void that we are still trying to replace.

I’m not saying that my child will be without amazing grandparents.  I know my mother-in-law is going to be a fantastic grandmother.  I don’t ever doubt that.  Since my mother died she’s become the person I turn to with all the things I would have shared with my mom.  Every little cute baby moment that comes up, she’s the first one I call.  Besides, my husband grew up in a family much like my own, where grandparents & aunts helped pitch in to raise the children – and they still do.  That side of the family is a close knit unit that will do right by this child. However, I still feel like this baby is going to miss out on all the cultural experiences my mother would have shared.

So this is where my carefully chosen village kicks in.  I bet you all thought that this was going to be a tear jerker didn’t you?  Not a chance!  So turn those frowns upside down folks, now we’re getting happy…

My mother did such a excellent job of creating a village with our family I now have  a huge support unit already set up for me.  My sister Melanie and I talk everyday, if not more then that.  She is always there when I need her and luckily my oldest sister Imelda & her husband Jim have stepped up to the plate as well.

To my surprise they have already asked to have a role much bigger then just an Aunt and Uncle.  Imelda wants to be a grandmother figure in my child’s life (which is appropriate because she has always been like a second mother to me with our 18 year age gap).  After watching what amazing grandparents they are to their own grandkids I’m more then happy to take them up on their offer.   By happy I mean tears streaming down my face as I write this.

So not only does this kid get 3 sets of grandparents but he or she will also enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of friendships I’ve created.  My friends have become family to me and I’m really grateful to have them.  The amount of aunts and uncles this kid will have is astounding!!

So I guess what I’m saying is this:  yes my child will miss out on having my mother as a grandma, but this kid will not want for anything.  The village I’ve spent a lifetime creating will step up and provide all the love, wisdom, and care this child will need to have a full and happy life.

Posted in Family, Grandparents, Loss, Villagers | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments