Without an Island

By: Asha B.
There are a lot of different kinds of parents out there. I am part of a growing minority of parents who choose to keep their children in a natural environment: held in our arms,worn in a wrap or sling, or sitting/trying to crawl on the floor, or in the bed. I made this choice for the usual Attachment Parenting reasons: walkers slow development, children learn more when they have room to move around and are experientially stimulated by their environment, it is easier to teach boundaries and safety when it has to be taught (as opposed to being avoided by a playpen-babysitter), etc..,

I made this choice while I was pregnant; it was one of those that inspired rolled eyes and, “Oh, you’ll change your mind when she’s born.” (This type of cynicism appeared on the edges of discussions concerning most of my important choices: breastfeeding past six months, cloth diapering, letting my daughter feed herself, the loose elimination communication we follow, only using wood or cloth toys (except for household items, like measuring cups, spoons, and bowls)).

Most of my parenting decisions collide and in doing so, they make my life much easier: breastfeeding is facilitated by co-sleeping, so I don’t lose much sleep at night. When I need to cook or clean, which is hard to do wearing my daughter, I let her feed herself sitting on a mat on the kitchen floor. I can get almost anything else done while I am wearing her.

The only hardships I’ve encountered are showers: I can’t wash my hair with my daughter in the shower with me. So, I set her up on the floor in the bathroom with some blocks, and I can usually get 10 -15 minutes of shower time before she gets distressed.

Some people would call me a martyr-mom (my partner employs the same set of choices, but martyr-dad isn’t as catchy). In a way, I fit that bill: WAHM employed part-time. I spend my free time hanging out with my daughter, volunteering, writing, working on stuff to build my resume, going to La Leche League meetings, walking my dog, and maintaining my home. My life is centered around my child, but I have committed myself, not resigned myself, to parenting.

Feminism is a broad thing. Lately, it seems like most parenting choices are arguably anti-feminist, leaving parents in a scatter of paradoxes. Among the clutter, the only deciding element is intent, and our intentions are, sometimes, tricky to flush out.

It is my intention to give my complete attention to parenting and loving my daughter. In order to do that successfully, I need to meet my own needs: the basic survival stuff and my needs to create things, keep my body healthy, maintain a balanced, communicative, sensational relationship with my partner, etc.., Dedicating my time to my daughter does not involve sacrificing myself. Her presence has encouraged me expand into the breadth of my own life- to be full, to be wild, to live completely. David Reiff wrote in his memoir about his mother, Susan Sontag, Swimming in a Sea of Death, “She loved living and, if anything, both her appetite for experience and her hopes for what she would accomplish as a writer had only increased as she grew older. If I had to choose one word to describe her way of being in the world it would be ‘avidity.’ There was nothing she did not want to see or do or try to know.”

It is a gorgeous thing to write about a mother, a telling thing.

The concept of being more than one thing at a time seems to baffle people, but we are all, always, more than one thing. As I change my daughter's poopy diaper or walk my dog I am still a sexual woman. When I’m breastfeeding my daughter I am still moderately aware of local and national politics. In the same way, with my entire being I am at once a mother and a writer and a thinker because it is my intention to participate actively, simultaneously, in the strongest facets of myself.

http://momcostume.wordpress.com/2010/06/14/without-an-island/