| Delilah Night: Sweet and Spicy Stories

Miscarriage and Feminine Identity

Posted on March 12, 2011 by Delilah Night

This article first appeared on my former blog in September of 2007, when I lost my first pregnancy to miscarriage. I edited it and re-posted it as my “Sexy Mother” column for September of 2010 as “Falling off the Pregnancy Pedestal.” The article below is a reprint of the Carnal Nation column. I own all rights, but will allow you to re-post/re-print if you contact me to ask permission first. While I rejoice in my positive pregnancy news, this is the reason my joy is tempered–I know all too well that sometimes a pregnancy just isn’t meant to be.

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There’s something powerful about a first positive pregnancy test. If the pregnancy is wanted, it is a moment of awe, fear, and triumph. If the pregnancy is unwanted, it is a terrifying sword of Damocles hanging over your head. I’ve peed on many a stick in my day (my picture should be next to the words “pregnancy hypochondria” in the dictionary) and I’ve hoped for both results over the years. But at no point while waiting for the results do you expect the pregnancy to end in miscarriage. Most of us anticipate a live birth. Some of us start considering abortion. But we don’t expect this potential life to be taken from us without our consent…until it happens to us. I should know…three years ago, it happened to me with my first pregnancy.

In my own words (with a few modifications for clarification) this is my story, written on the day I knew my first pregnancy was not going have the end result my husband and I were hoping for. There would be no healthy baby the next spring.

*******

On August 30^th [2007] I saw my first positive pregnancy test. I used the Clearblue Easy Digital Test, which is kind enough to just say “pregnant” or “not pregnant” instead of giving you lines or dots or some other Morse code. In the 30 seconds that followed I think I experienced at least 50 different individual emotions ranging from glee to terror. This pregnancy had been planned, but that didn’t make the reality any less scary or thrilling.

Underneath it all, though, was a uniquely feminine sort of pride. I had accomplished my biological imperative, my hypothetical biological destiny, and spawned. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating that every woman get knocked up, but it is something that only we can do, and regardless of what the most stubborn person would say, it’s a magical realization to know you’ve done it (if the pregnancy is wanted).

I felt more feminine than I ever had, even more than when I’d lived out my fairy tale princess fantasy on my wedding day. Becoming pregnant was a special sort of validation that I never knew existed. Unfortunately, that pride was exceptionally short lived.

I had my first cramps within a few days, and went in for a second blood test (the first had confirmed the pregnancy and provided baseline hormone levels) on September 3^rd [2007]. My hormone levels were shooting up, and the nurse reassured me that everything was fine, and that the pains I was feeling were probably just my uterus growing.

Within two weeks I was in the Emergency room with pain and small patches of blood on my panties. Via ultrasound baby was measuring a week and a half too small, but as I’m irregular we weren’t too worried, yet. Pregnancy Math is based on the faulty assumption that women have perfectly regular 28 day menstrual cycles, and that had never been true for me. A baby whose measurements didn’t line up exactly with where I was “supposed to be” was not a major source of concern, especially when you also factor in that early ultrasounds are not 100% reliable with regards to dating a pregnancy.

Last Thursday [September 20, 2007] was the ultrasound that resulted in a negative prognosis [the baby still wasn’t growing appropriately]. Only 48 or so hours ago [September 25, 2008] was the moment of hope-a heartbeat. But it was too slow, the baby was too small, and the pregnancy was moving down towards my cervix. On Thursday [September 27, 2007] the blood was soaking through my panties rather than merely staining it with dots, and with the blood came the end of our dreams for our first child.

The thing about miscarriage is how much it robs you of your femininity. You go from believing you’re some kind of fertility sex goddess to a failed mother in an instant (or, in my case, over a few weeks). Regardless of how common miscarriage is, it’s impossible for me not to take it personally, to grieve, and to hurt. I feel robbed of that special feminine power I’d tapped into.

Defective.

No one needs to quote statistics at me. I know them. I know that 95% of all pregnancies that end in the first trimester like mine are because of a bad sperm/egg match, or a glitch somewhere in the formation process. I know that more than 25% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage. I know a number of women whose first pregnancies ended in miscarriage, and who have beautiful children today. That doesn’t make it easier.

For me, the prohibition on sex and orgasm that was put into place when I first had spotting made it all worse. I’m not just my sexuality, but it is a huge part of who I am, and how I relate to the world around me. Losing that part of me, especially as I was losing my child as well made me feel lost, isolated, and like I was locked outside in the middle of a blizzard. I remember putting on jeans, sneakers, a long sleeved shirt, and a jacket, and stepping outside into our unseasonably warm weather, feeling confused. How could it be warm and sunny-hell, perfect beach weather-when I felt so cold on the inside? It should be pouring, thundering, a hurricane, a blizzard outside, not this perfect blue sky and obscenely bright sun.

I’m angry. I come from a long line of fertile women, with the last miscarriage in my family belonging to my great grandmother (although my grandmother’s first child died within 2 days of birth) over 60 years ago. Why the hell couldn’t I pull this off?

I did everything right. I hadn’t had a drink since our anniversary in July. I stopped drinking Diet Coke (my preferred source of caffeine) entirely, even though all I had to do was cut back to like a can or two a day. I started eating vegetables, and I HATE vegetables. I drank enough water to fill an ocean. I walked every day. I started on pre-natal vitamins over a month before I got pregnant.

It wasn’t enough.

I’m jealous of every pregnant woman I see. When I see a baby, a wave of intense longing and a small voice saying “I was supposed to have that” washes over me. I try to remind myself that I don’t know how hard won those pregnancies or children are, but it still hurts.

I have a hard time accepting the condolences of my friends. They try so hard to make me feel better, but the comments don’t always help. One friend said something about how “it’s not really a baby yet, just cells” and I almost hung up on them because they don’t get how real the baby was to us. It’s funny because it’s the same argument I’d make about a woman electing to have an abortion at this point in her pregnancy, but I realize the difference between an unwanted invader and a desperately loved and wanted child.

I wonder if anyone will remember me on mother’s day. I became a mother the second I got pregnant, and I embraced it the second the stick read “pregnant.” But I know that to most people, my partner and I don’t have children and we’re not parents. I hate those people.

The loss of our child is a wound, both on my heart, and on my femininity. I know from losing my grandmother when I was a teen (who was essentially a mother to me, and with whom I was very close) that these wounds eventually heal, and while the person we lose is never forgotten, the anniversary of their death and the dates important to them become less painful over time. The wound on my heart will heal.

The wound of my femininity will also heal, but only completely with the live birth of a healthy child. Sure the odds are good that it wasn’t my fault, but I’ll only *really* believe it when I can hold the evidence of that.

I have a feeling it will be hard to win back my sex goddesshood. I’ve been knocked off my pedestal, and my own ego made it a pretty high one at that. I’m bruised and standing on the ground, unsure of how to climb up the smooth sides of my pedestal.

The first step on that journey, though, is to allow my husband to give me an orgasm in a few days time, followed by our sexual reunion next weekend.

Here’s to letting the healing process begin.

***********************************

With very few modifications (and the date clarifications) that is how I felt the day I started bleeding and finally accepted that I was losing my first child. That I would not have the pregnancy that made it against the odds. My child’s heartbeat on the day it was detected was 48 beats per second. 120 beats per second is considered the minimum “viable” number, and 150 or more is the normal heart rate of a healthy fetus. I kept asking my Obstetrician if there was any chance, even a 1% chance that things would improve. Every rise in my hormones, the appearance of a heartbeat all sustained that small ember of hope until the heavy bleeding when I couldn’t deny that we would not be that 1 in 1 million (or whatever) pregnancy where things just worked out and resulted in a healthy baby.

I had a D&C procedure (dilation and curettage) the day after the entry was written. By that point I had been suffering for almost 3 weeks, much of it in very real physical pain. Once I knew that the pregnancy wasn’t going to happen, I couldn’t handle waiting for it to pass naturally, and took my obstetrician up on her (to my eyes) kind offer to remove what was left of the pregnancy. At least with that procedure, once they had done it, I had a chance to see the bucket of blood and tissue they’d removed from my uterus and say good-bye. I knew the hospital would dispose of the remains according to procedure…I couldn’t bear the idea that I might flush my child down the toilet.

I was right; time has healed the deep emotional wounds I felt. But not until after I stayed in bed for almost a month, was cleared to start trying again, and finally had a successful pregnancy, proving that my uterus was not defective and that it wasn’t my fault that I had lost that first child. I actually had to look up the specific date I’d had the D&C this year to write this article.

Every couple has to find the right way to grieve for themselves, if they need to. Some don’t grieve, which is also normal. We did, although I grieved far more than my husband. My first child was not forgotten. We have a small box with the few ultrasound pictures and ultrasound CD we have of them, and the start of an unfinished baby blanket my mother had started to crochet. We named him or her, and I have a necklace charm with the name engraved on it—I don’t need to wear it every day anymore, but I do wear it on occasion. The baby also has their name on a Christmas ornament for our tree. We will eventually tell the Little Mistress, when we think it’s appropriate. But for now, it’s enough that the LM has a bear that we were given at a memorial service hosted by the hospital we were affiliated with hosted for parents who lost a child during pregnancy.

The Little Mistress’ first month after birth was, to this date, the most emotionally wrenching and frightening experience of my life—we came very close to losing the child that I’d just given birth to, after losing a baby to miscarriage just over a year earlier. For ten long days and nights we watched machines do her breathing for her. We were given frightening statistics about possible outcomes; long term physical or developmental disorders. We had to make decisions no parent should ever have to think about making for their child, much less one only days and weeks old.

In a strange way, we are grateful to our first child. Going through that loss, having to make what felt like incredibly hard decisions with him/her, and cutting our baby parenting teeth with him/her…in a twisted way, helped us when we really had to step up to the plate with our daughter just over a year later.

Although I am the opposite of religious, shortly after my miscarriage, I learned of a Buddhist belief that gave me comfort then and even today. The idea is that a miscarriage is a soul that had to experience love one last time before they could reach Nirvana. It’s a beautiful idea.

While my child was very real to me, my miscarriage only further cemented my pro-choice politics. I don’t want anyone reading this to get the idea that I (although it is common) became a pro-life zealot who protests at Planned Parenthood. Because of my experiences, after the LM was healthy and strong again, I made a point of volunteering for Planned Parenthood to help other women learn about and secure their reproductive freedom. No one should have to go through a pregnancy who doesn’t want to-the experience, whether it results in miscarriage or a child (healthy or unhealthy) is not one anyone should have to undergo without being willing to do so.

Three years post-miscarriage, I am still saddened by the loss of my first pregnancy. The Little Mistress has a cousin who was born within days of my due date with the first pregnancy and I sometimes look at her cousin and wonder about what might have been. But I can’t regret my daughter…if the first child had lived, I wouldn’t have her, and that is unimaginable to me today, no matter how often she tests the limits of my patience.

I lost my first child, but I have regained my feminine identity.

Filed under: Miscarriage | Tagged: delilah night, miscarriage | Leave a comment »

News

Posted on March 8, 2011 by Delilah Night

I would like to share with my readership the exciting (and terrifying) news that my partner and I are expecting our second child.

This will be my third pregnancy. My first ended in a miscarriage at 10 weeks, although we knew by 6 that things were not going to go well. My second ended in the child I call here “The Little Mistress.” I am obviously hopeful that this pregnancy will also end in a live birth, but due to my own experiences, know better than to assume that will be the case at this point.

I decided to share the news here as this blog is largely about pregnancy, parenting and sex. Regardless of the outcome, this experience will have a profound effect on my sexuality regardless.

I am guesstimating that I am about 4 weeks into the 40 weeks of pregnancy at this point. I know for a fact that I ovulated late, so the math is particularly fuzzy in this situation (although the first lesson of pregnancy is that pregnancy math is fucked up and has little bearing on reality if you have irregular periods or ovulated early or late). Your doctor will use your last menstrual cycle…by which I’m already something like 7-8 weeks pregnant, and I expect to be given an initial due date of late October, although by my estimates, November 10-15th is the ACTUAL due date. After we have some early ultrasounds that show consistent growth, I will badger a due date change out of my doctor.

Sadly, the early stages of pregnancy do not agree with my body. I am tired. I am nauseous. I want to cuddle, but sex is not something I find myself terribly interested in. Most pregnancy books will tell you that this is okay, and imply that a partner who wants sex is a selfish jerk. I’m not a fan of this assessment. Think of the impact of your news on them…they are probably as excited and possibly even more scared. They want comfort and/or to celebrate this achievement with intimacy. While you may speak the truth when you say “I’m not in the mood,” there is a point after which it will feel like rejection, as if their part is done and they are no longer necessary, no matter how untrue this might be. So I urge you to dig deep, eat a saltine, and try. Even if you fail (and there were times in the LM’s pregnancy when the sentence “get off me, I need to throw up” was uttered…times, plural) your partner WILL appreciate that you are trying. While your gag reflex may be bothering you…I’ve yet to hear of a pregnancy symptom that made it impossible to give a hand job.

So pregnant sexy mamas…I’m there for you. I’m there WITH you. I’ll report back regularly about how things are going and with my best pregnancy sex tips. As a second time mom…I’m here to tell you, if you think you’re tired NOW…wait until the baby comes. Now is NOT the time to put your marriage or the sexual health of your marriage last.

Filed under: Pregnancy | Tagged: delilah night | Leave a comment »

The A Word–review

Posted on March 4, 2011 by Delilah Night

The A Word–a film by Lindsay Ellis

“The A Word” is not an easy film to watch. It is a 30 minute look at how the experience of abortion affects women who have had abortions…including the film-maker, Lindsay.

The uncomfortable truth that had me squirming as I watched the movie, is that both sides of the abortion debate are so focused on the fetus that we don’t really spend enough time on the women who’ve gone through the procedure.

We meet the head of a post-abortion counseling hotline, Aspen says it best when she says that

The pro-choice/pro-life debate in the US hurts a lot of things. And it certainly hurts women who’ve had abortions. The goals of either side is to keep the arguments as simple as possible, and to shut down anything else that sort of doesn’t align with that message.

What happens is that all the yelling at each other keeps the voices of women who’ve actually experienced abortions from being a part of that discussion in any way.

As a pro-choice woman, perhaps especially because I’ve volunteered with Planned Parenthood…I’m guilty of this, too. I want to cheer in triumph when reports come out saying things like Abortion Study no long term ill-effects on emotional well-being, and if I’m being totally honest, shove it into pro-life demonstrator’s faces. My gut instinct when I see things like the moment in Ellis’ film where she interviews a pro-life woman who had four abortions and she holds up a sign saying “I regret my abortion” and says that all the women who attend the rally will hold that sign…is to doubt the veracity that every woman who’ll be holding the sign actually had an abortion…because I don’t want to believe that so many women do. I want the side of the debate that helps justify the hours of my life I’ve spent with Planned Parenthood, the letter writing campaigns, the hatred I feel for protestors who harass women coming in and out of the clinics.

It’s not easy to have a documentary teach you a lesson you may not want to learn.

Growing up, the idea of going through an abortion didn’t seem like a big deal to me. It was distant, impersonal, uncommon and more just something people debated about during election seasons. But my circumstances changed. And with a change in circumstance comes a change in perspective.

Lindsay is struggling with her decision to have had an abortion. She doesn’t fit neatly into any of the little boxes that the pro-choice or pro-life lobbies would like her to be in.

We see her talk with her mother, who has far less ambivalence than Lindsay does about her own choice to have an abortion following a rape, and Lindsay’s choice to have one. She talks with the baby’s father, who comes across largely as frustrated that they’re still talking about this, with one exception when he asks her if she’d named the baby. In taping a pro-life rally, Lindsay is moved to speak to step from behind the camera to the front and speaks to the crowd… about how isolating the experience is.

One of the key things that comes up is that with very few exceptions, there is almost no support for women who’ve had abortions. The post-abortion counseling that does exist is largely Christian and conducted by pro-life groups. Which is not necessarily helpful for many women…as they will have expectations for you to feel guilt in the same way that my compatriots expect you to feel good about your decision. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of room for ambivalence, and ambivalence is Ellis’ primary emotion.

It is actively painful at time to watch. I was moved to tears more than once. I knew Ellis was good–I’ve been a fan of hers for over a year. But I had no idea that her potential was this great. This is a movie that deserves, NEEDS to be seen…and if you’d like to see it to, read about how you can obtain a screening copy and help fund submitting the movie to various film festivals here.

Is it a perfect movie? No.

My first wish is that it be longer. I think the subject is so meaty and that Ellis is such a strong film-maker that a 60 or 90 minute documentary could have been even more powerful. However, having read her blog, I know she struggled with funding the documentary as it is, so that may be a key reason that it isn’t longer.

My second is that I wish Ellis had given a little more time to pro-choice groups. We see a pro-life woman say some things that are inaccurate (that there’s documented prof that abortion causes emotional damage and that it has physical consequences…there is no such documented proof). I’m worried that perhaps there aren’t enough pro-choice organizations thinking about aftercare.

Lindsay–if you ever read this…I just want to say thank you. Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for saying an uncomfortable truth. I promise to actively try to open my mind and legitimize opinions that aren’t my own, and to not shove you or women who have gone through what you have in the box I’d prefer that you/they fit into.

Filed under: Movies, Parenting, Pregnancy, Reproductive Freedom | Tagged: delilah night, Lindsey Ellis, The A Word | Leave a comment »

The creative juices have begun to flow once more…

Posted on February 15, 2011 by Delilah Night

Today literotica.com published my first new story in 4 years. It’s not that I haven’t written anything between 2007 and 2011, but none of what I wrote during that time was right for that market. Literotica is the website I submitted to when I wrote my first “dirty story” in 2002…almost 9 years ago. Looking at my history of submissions, I can point to times when I was single (more stories, some truly awful poetry), and to times when I wasn’t. It’s not shocking that my long dry spell with very little published there began when I was planning my wedding, and then when I began my path toward motherhood. Not because I didn’t still have those desires, rather than I focused my energy elsewhere. I’ve also begun to transition to writing for pay, and thus Literotica was ignored.

However, I finally got around to finishing a multi-chapter story I’ve been working on for eight years. Eight years. It predates motherhood, marriage, and even meeting my partner. Finishing it feels bittersweet…the happiness over finally bringing it to resolution and sadness as it’s been my fun side project for years, what I’ve always gone back to when I needed to write but didn’t want to focus on more serious writing. On the other hand, it’s somewhat absurd that it took 8 years to write less than my usual monthly writing goal.

Regardless, what makes me most happy is that while I continue to grow as a writer, I can occasionally go back and nurture the place where everything began for me.

If you’re a new writer, or a writer who’s never written erotica before and want to try it out in a welcoming space (almost anything is accepted), I strongly encourage you to check out Literotica.

No, I’m not sharing what my pen name is there, except to say that it’s not Delilah Night.

Filed under: Writing | Tagged: delilah night | Leave a comment »

It’s Your Vulva

Posted on January 27, 2011 by Delilah Night

Originally Printed by Carnal Nation October 5, 2010

Note–January 27, 2011. Although this was written several months ago, we have not yet made progress in toilet training the LM, who is a stubborn child. I’m not a fan of creating wars I can’t win, so I haven’t pushed her. However, we are hoping to try again soon.

I was 19 years old before I learned that urine does NOT leave the body via the vagina. I successfully repressed that humiliating memory until a few months ago when we began to think about attempting potty training with our daughter, the Little Mistress. I took out our “Once Upon a Potty For Girls” kit (complete with a “girl” baby and a toy toilet). We curled up on the couch, and I began to read the book aloud to her. Moments later, I realized why there is a school of parenting that advocates previewing books and materials before handing them to your child — When I read aloud the following sentence “[I have] a pee pee for making wee wee.”

I “borrowed” the baby doll from my daughter and took off the diaper to see that the vulva in all its glory — Labia Majora, Labia Minora, Clitoris, Urethra, and Vagina — had been reduced to an embroidered asterisk (just like this: *) between the doll’s cloth legs. It was at that moment that I realized potty training is, for many women, the beginning of the misinformation — and missing information — about our bodies.

A disclaimer—I am a ciswoman, and my daughter is biologically female. This article is therefore going to talk about potty training and the experience of trying to make sense of female genitalia from that perspective. I’d love to have other authors contribute articles from their perspectives, but I can only address this from mine.

Toddlers are concrete. They want labels, they are freaks about routines, and they have a limited ability to process information. (Example: the LM does not understand that her fingers are both part of her hands and are also a body part called “fingers.”) Information needs to presented to them in a simple, straightforward manner. Female genitalia doesn’t really fall into the category of “things that are easily explained with simple vocabulary.” As a sex-positive mom, this creates a conundrum.

Unlike a penis, which is easy to see, and easily explained (I’m projecting, the grass is always greener, I suppose), female genitalia is neither. I have been blithely told by many a mom of an equivalently aged boy that potty training is all about tossing some cheerios in the potty and telling their boys to “sink ‘em” with their pee (also attempting to teach the extremely important skill of aim). As the mom of a daughter, while I don’t agree with it, I can see how generations of sexual repression, religious guilt, ethnic and cultural taboos, or simple lack of information press down on a mom in the moment when she points to her daughter’s genitalia or her own and an infantile, non-threatening word like “coochie,” “taco,” “privates” or “pee-pee” comes out of her mouth.

My daughter is weeks from turning two years old. That means that she needs broad terms to use for the moment. Although I feel it’s perhaps too broad, I decided to use vulva generally, although when she’s masturbating I make a point of saying that she’s touching her clitoris, and when I clean her I name her labia. I think the urethra, much as it is the correct term, is going to have to wait until she’s old enough for me to pull out my big stuffed vulva, name the various parts, and hand her a mirror (which I’m confident will be in the next 8 years).

Having decided there was something to this whole notion of previewing, I began to look through the other potty books. There was a lot of emphasis on “feeling like you need to ‘go’” and “sitting on the potty” and “I DID IT!” and in some the reward of no more diapers. There isn’t a lot of naming going on except of the pee and the poop, regardless of whether the book is supposed to be bio-sex neutral or bio-sex specific. Realistically, I imagine it’s because using a specific name for a body part will appeal to one audience while possibly (probably?) alienating a larger reading public. Hence, the emphasis is on the process of feeling the urge to use the toilet, using the toilet (but not where the urine or feces is coming from), and being rewarded.

What about parenting guides? What sage advice did they have for parents regarding naming body parts? I saw discussions and disagreements over when to train, methods of training, whether to incentivize training or not (giving them an M&M, a sticker, whatever), how to handle accidents, etc. It was the same focus on what’s coming out of the body and where it lands, rather than where it’s coming from.

The only time genitalia comes into play in the parenting books and articles is the reminder that girls are more vulnerable to Urinary Tract Infections, so you should wipe their genitals front to back, although there’s not a lot of discussion why that’s so. Occasionally someone advises to use the names for body parts that are “right for your family,” which is the publisher-friendly cop-out, I imagine.

I find this avoidance of correctly naming female genitals surprising, because this is the age group where children are verbal and asking questions. They WANT to understand. They’re not embarrassed, unlike a teenager who would rather be ignorant about something than admit to not knowing it. No one seems to be comfortable talking about the body parts involved, at least when it comes to girls.

If this word avoidance were a momentary trend, easily chalked up to toddler’s developing ability to comprehend, it wouldn’t be all that important. But it’s not that simple. Grown women have trouble correctly naming the various parts of their genitals. Magazines like Cosmo print the word “vah-jay-jay” as if it were an adorable breezy alternative name, rather than another infantilization of women’s genitals. As recently as 2007, a Florida woman successfully got a sign for the play “The Vagina Monologues” changed to “The Hoo-Hah Monologues” because it was inappropriate for young (9-year old in that case) girls to even SEE the word “vagina.” Which makes me ponder how “vagina” even became the default word for our genitalia.

I have many concrete, tangible goals for my daughter. Among others, regardless of whether she grows up to be cisfemale or not, I want her to be able to correctly label and identify the purpose of the female and male genitals for practical, reproductive, and pleasurable ends.

At the absolute least, I am determined to spare her my level of confusion as a teenager. Regarding that whole urine comes out of your vagina misunderstanding of mine? At 15 or 16, I decided that urine must not affect the fibers of the tampon or that the reds, purples and browns of my menstrual blood simply eclipsed the yellow of the urine. I instinctively knew that my explanation couldn’t be right, but in my pre-Internet days of the early to mid 90’s, it was the best explanation I could come up with. It wasn’t until I took a safe sex workshop in college that I learned my female genitalia included a separate opening for urine, as opposed to the single opening in the tip of the penis from which urine and semen both issue. (Although, again until that workshop, I had some confusion about how that worked, too. Did a guy pee semen into you?)

My mom had NO IDEA that I was confused. I just shared the story with her as I was writing this column. She paused, and in a thoughtful voice said that she’d never wondered about it. Then she asked me to explain it to her. Which just goes to show that I wasn’t the only woman in my family lacking crucial information.

Potty training, while not sexual, is often the first time we omit or disseminate partial or incorrect information to our kids. Sure, it’s appropriate to omit or give partial information to a 2-3 year old, but it’s a trend that never seems to go away.

I haven’t taught a middle-school Sex Ed class in five years, but I can assure you that we never spent a second on the female urethra, and I was explicitly banned from talking about the clitoris and labia as they were “unnecessary to the discussion of reproduction.” Nice to know we’ve moved on from 1989 when I was taught that “if you have unprotected sex you’ll get pregnant/get AIDS/get an STD and DIE” and “you can get pregnant just two or three days a month, but those days change, so you have to think you can get pregnant ANY TIME.” While accomplishing the goal of scaring the crap out of me when I was 12, it did nothing to further my understanding of my body, and quite frankly I doubt I did much better in terms of clarifying understanding for the girls in my class when it came to knowing their genitalia.

As for us, after the LM peed on the floor, slipped in it and got a giant goose egg on her head, followed shortly thereafter by her pooping on the floor and attempting to eat it, we’ve shelved the actual potty training for the moment. But we’re still having plenty of discussions about it, practicing with her dolls (NOT the asterisk baby doll which found a new home in the trash along with the book), and naming the dolls’ vulvas as where the pee comes from (and damn near constant changing of her doll’s imaginary poopy diapers). It’s not perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than “I have a pee-pee to make wee-wee.”

Filed under: Parenting, Toddlers | Tagged: delilah night | 2 Comments »

Singaporeans don’t like condoms

Posted on January 15, 2011 by Delilah Night

I found this article, critiquing Singapore’s condom-phobia particularly interesting.

As a married (and at the moment monogamous) woman, I haven’t really experienced the dating scene here, so I can’t speak from personal experience as to how widespread the aversion truly is.

What I can speak to, from anecdotes shared with me anonymously from Filipina domestic workers, is that it is common. There isn’t a domestic here who doesn’t know another girl who was sent home because she tested positive for pregnancy during a six-month routine medical check (specifically they’re testing for pregnancy and STD/STI’s…the presence of any will get them deported). I’ve asked why condoms aren’t used, and it seems to be a mixture of women who don’t feel empowered to ask, the cultural (I’m unclear if this is a Filipina, Singaporean, or Asian culture) implication that requesting a condom means that the person requesting condom usage thinks their potential partner is “dirty,” and flat out male refusal to use them because “it doesn’t feel good.”

The frustrating aspect to this is that domestics don’t have much in the way of other options. Hormonal birth control is denied to them, and is too expensive to be considered even if it were available. While abortion is legal and available (I would have no trouble having one, if I so desired), domestics don’t. I haven’t seen much in the way of other options, like spermicide, so condoms are the one option domestics have.

Some argue that domestics shouldn’t be having sex. For many of them, the local pay (while better than what they could earn in the Philipinnes) is not enough to both live on and send money home. Some women engage in sexual activity for groceries, or money to supplement the earnings they send home. Others are young women alone in a foreign country, and are lonely. Sex is a natural progression with a partner who makes you feel less lonely. Further, I would argue that a woman does not give up her sex drive when she goes to work, and that they have every right to a personal life as I do.

Faced with deportation and the stigma of single motherhood, many women (again, every domestic I’ve talked to knows at least if not several) turn to herbal abortifacients. Many don’t work, and the girl is left still pregnant, sometimes ill from the effects of the herbs, or with an infection that she doesn’t have the money to treat. They are sent home.

But as long as condom usage is low in Singapore, it will continue to be domestics who suffer most. Sent home in disgrace, abortion is unavailable back home. Some of these domestics have to go home and face a husband who is not the father of the child they carry…and will suffer for that. Others will face the social ostracism that comes with single parenthood.

Regardless, it’s a disturbing side effect that no one seems to care about.

Filed under: Reproductive Freedom, Women's Issues | Tagged: birth control, delilah night | 1 Comment »

My Mirena Story

Posted on January 12, 2011 by Delilah Night

I hesitate to tell my story about my experiences with Mirena. I hear so much vitriol hurled in their direction that I don’t want to serve as further ammunition. I genuinely feel that while I had a negative experience, that my story is a rare one, and that Mirena is one of the better contraceptive options available today.

I chose to use Mirena after the birth of my daughter in 2008. My obstetrician at the time advised a 10 week wait time before insertion to give the uterus time to return to normal as well as the cervix. I found the insertion process to be painful, but within a day or two I was fine. I had the occasional break-through bleed for 1-2 days at various points throughout the two years that I used it.

I did find it odd that I had a long (5-7) day bleed in November, but didn’t really think anything of it.

In early December, having arrived at the decision that my partner and I were ready to move forward and have a second child, I chose to have the Mirena removed.

Two days after removal, I had began to bleed. The first day was a light to moderate bleed, and nothing that seemed out of the norm for me. Day two was a heavier flow with some clots, but again…nothing out of the realm of “normal.” It wasn’t until day three when things began to worsen, rather than improve or stay stable that I began to feel concern. By day five, I was soaking through a pad about every two hours and each time I sat down, large clots (alarmingly large…easily the length and width of my index and middle finger held together) were passing.

I had called my gyn (not the same doctor that inserted it…I was living in the US during insertion and now live in Singapore) to report my bleeding and express concern. I was metaphorically patted on the head and told that I was imagining/exaggerating the extent of my bleeding. This just isn’t how Mirena works, or what women experience after removal, I was told. I fired him.

I searched for, and found another gyn, and was able to get an emergency appointment. She too, at first, thought I was exaggerating, but did a pelvic exam and seemed quite concerned about the clots she had to clear just to visualize my cervix. I was sent for an ultrasound, which showed I had grown a very thick endometrial layer within my uterus and had several large potential polyps present (in the analysis done later, it was shown that they were merely large clots). An emergency D&C (dilation and curettage) was scheduled for the morning. This was reassuring, as I was officially hemorraghing by this point…I was soaking through a pad an hour, passing large clots, and was beginning to feel the strain from all the bleeding.

I’d had a D&C in 2007, related to a miscarriage, so I knew what to expect (which is good because no one felt the need to review the procedure with me, unlike in the US where they went over it at least 3 times). I did not expect to have to beg and scream and cry for painkillers, which led to more than an hour wait before the pain was treated such that I didn’t want to pass out. This is the opposite of the vicodin I had poured down my throat once I regained consciousness in the US.

Within two or three days I felt fine, and my uterus has returned to normal.

What I find disturbing is the lack of information that Mirena provides on this as a potential reaction. I do not doubt that it’s rare..rare enough that the gyn here said she wouldn’t hesitate to put me back on it after a second child’s birth, which I was surprised by. But I do think that even if it’s a 1 in 10,000 reaction, that there should be some admission by Mirena to that effect. I’ve certainly found enough anectdotes online to indicate that it’s hardly as rare as 1 in 10,000 (a number I’m just making up.).

I have had some truly frightening experiences in my life, so I would not rate this as “the scariest,” but my partner and I were genuinely frightened by the hemorraghe.

In the service of educating others about contraception and their pluses and minuses, I feel it only right to share my story.

Filed under: Pregnancy, Reproductive Freedom | Tagged: delilah night, mirena | 1 Comment »

Resolution Suggestions for Moms for the New Year

Posted on January 1, 2011 by Delilah Night

Dear Mothers of the world,

You are sexy. You may not believe me, but you are.

As we enter 2011, I encourage you to…

Pursue an interest, activity, or education that has nothing to do with your child/marriage. Something that YOU love. Even if it’s an hour a week, do it for you (If you have to, put the kid in front of the tv for a show and put on headphones so you can focus on your thing…do whatever it takes).
Buy yourself something that makes you feel attractive or sexy…it doesn’t have to be lingerie; sometimes something as inexpensive as a hair clip can make us feel attractive, or a new bottle of nail polish. But if you feel the impulse to go for a vibrator–I highly encourage you!
If you have a partner, make an effort to connect with them regularly…if money is an issue, find another mom to trade with once a month (you watch her kids, she watches yours) and have an at-home date.
Make an effort to make a regular connection with your sexuality. Even if it’s just quietly playing “who would I do” when you watch tv or walk down the street, connect with that part of yourself. I encourage you to enjoy your own body, and to share it with a partner (or partners) you care for (or just lust after).
No matter how hard it is for you, talk to your children at an age-appropriate level about sex, sexuality, bodies and safe sex. It’s never too early or too late to do it. If you have a teen (or even a pre-teen) and have trouble discussing sex, send them to scarleteen. If your child is gay or trans, reach out to Pflag and remind them that there’s always support waiting for them at the Trevor Project.

Wishing you all a prosperous and happy 2011.

Filed under: Parenting, Women's Issues | Tagged: delilah night, Holidays | Leave a comment »

Volunteering for Reproductive Freedom

Posted on December 30, 2010 by Delilah Night

First Published-September 16, 2009
Edited-December 30, 2010

For about five months in 2009, I chose to donate my “free” time to a pro-choice organization. I did this rather than go see a movie, shop, or run errands that would’ve been easier to do without my daughter along…or write, for that matter.

Why?

Because it needs to be done.
Because I can.
Because it’s my way of thanking all the women who have come before me to give me reproductive freedom.

Reproductive freedom is at the root of all female freedom. When a woman can control her fertility she is less likely to end up in poverty. When a woman controls her fertility she is acknowledged as a full person, capable of making decisions, rather than a passive vessel from which future generations will spring. She has the freedom to work and to progress in her career, only taking child related breaks on her terms. Economists unanimously agree that a key step in a country’s progress towards “first world” status is female self-control over one’s fertility.

You may argue that in this day and age, control over fertility means access to the pill and other contraception. I disagree, saying you need to include access to abortion to have full reproductive freedom.

Abortion isn’t a pleasant procedure to contemplate.

In later stages of pregnancy, the procedure become downright gruesome.

However, a woman should not be held hostage to her body because she was raped, had a contraception failure, made a bad decision, or was coerced into unprotected sex because of cultural/social taboos.

The American right would like us all to give these unwanted children up for adoption, which makes for a pretty fantasy. Of course, that fantasy only works if you assume that every child, regardless of physical, emotional, or behavioral needs would be adopted. That every child, regardless of the parent’s ethnic background(s) would be adopted. The truth is that children with special needs, children of mixed race, and minority children are not as “desirable” to prospective parents, and thus are less attractive to potential adoptive parents.

Putting all that aside for a moment, it assumes something far more insidious…that women need only step back and gestate and all will go well. Anyone who thinks that has never been pregnant. Never experienced the literal growing pains of a uterus. Never become diabetic with pregnancy (and as someone who stuck herself a grand total of 14 times a day-10 for blood sugar checks and 4 to give myself shots of insulin I can attest to what it’s like to feel like a pincushion). Never puked for all 40 weeks of pregnancy (I know what it’s like to come close to being hospitalized because I was practically dehydrated from all the puking). Never had the heartburn. Never had their lungs infringed upon by a 3rd trimester fetus. Never gone through labor. Never experienced the joys of having their vaginal walls tear as the baby entered the world.

It’s also a pretty fantasy where no woman ever gets pre-eclampsia. Never gets diagnosed with cancer while pregnant. Never is faced with a situation where it’s your life and death on the line. Keep the baby and you both die, or abort the baby and you live…which would you choose?

There’s no discussion of where restrictions on reproductive freedom would end. These “pro-lifers” are often the same people rallying against “big government,” saying that the government has no right to get involved in personal affairs. But what is more personal than a pregnancy? How would they force me to stay pregnant? Would there be a law that all women of child bearing age take folic acid, just in case? What if I forget to take my prenatal vitamin? Chose not to control my pregnancy induced diabetes? Would I be sent to jail for negligence?

What about miscarriage? How would they prove the difference between a natural miscarriage and the ingestion of herbs known since time immemorial to cause “accidents” for pregnant women? Would every D&C (such as I had after my first pregnancy did not pass naturally after her/his heart stopped beating) be cause for a police investigation?

I don’t know how it ends, except that I suspect it would look a lot like “A Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood.

And so I volunteer.

Each time I volunteer I park my car near the clinic. I scan the perimeter of the clinic for protesters. The legal line is drawn on the ground in yellow paint, and I often see the protesters put a foot over it, or pace it like an angry lion pacing his too-small cage at the zoo. A frequent protester is an elderly woman, who often gets away with more small transgressions because it would be bad press to have her arrested for every small infraction.

I enter the double doors and pass through a metal detector. I hand my purse to a security guard for inspection. I sign in using my first name and last initial only…for my protection. I exchange my id for a badge that will open the elevator or give me a code to use on the numerical pad that changes the order of it’s numbers regularly. I know where the panic buttons are in case of emergency. I know when to call 911.

My path does not lead me through the waiting room, but I’ve been there as a patient. There is an air of sadness, and quiet resignation. No one is happy to go to the abortion clinic. Relieved, yes…but never celebratory.

I work in an area far removed from the medical procedures. It could be any office. There’s a water cooler, a copier that breaks frequently, staplers that jam, files that need alphabetizing, and envelopes that need stuffing. Like any non-profit, there’s money to be raised and lobbying to be done on our behalf.

But there are also industrial shredders, and no piece of paper is thrown away without first being shredded. Those who dislike what happens behind our doors could harass a doctor, a patient, an employee, or a volunteer like me.

When my time is done, I use my badge to descend to the main floor, and exchange a few words with the guard as I pass back my badge and sign out, receiving my ID once more. I push the heavy doors to the street open, and again glance around to look for protesters before making my way back to the car.

I drive back to my sitter’s home to pick up the little girl I love more than any other child in this world. Because a morning away from her to help fight to secure her reproductive freedom is a far better use of my time than getting a manicure.

Filed under: Pregnancy, Reproductive Freedom, Volunteering, Women's Issues | Tagged: delilah night, Reproductive Freedom | 2 Comments »

The Second-Time Mom Concerns…

Posted on December 29, 2010 by Delilah Night

Although my own pregnancy plans have sadly been delayed for two months, following an emergency D&C (a topic for another day), I have recently begun to explore hospitals and meet with OB’s in order to make plans for my upcoming second pregnancy. In doing so, I’ve learned that being a second-time mom brings with it much different concerns…

When touring a hospital recently, my most pressing question wasn’t “What is your hospital’s C-Section rate?” or “Can my baby stay in the room with me?”

It was “Do you have wi-fi?”

The relatively small tour group (all first time moms and several partners) all looked at me with horrified and puzzled looks.

The thing is, you darling first time moms…the c-section rate at the hospital isn’t nearly as important as your OB/practice’s C section rates. Unless you’re giving birth in a time warp, yes the hospital will let you have the baby with you (unless there’s a medical reason not to do so) and yes they will support breastfeeding. The wonderous suites with all the nifty amenities? You’ll be too exhausted to really notice anything other than whether you’ve got a private room or not.

Now wi-fi…THAT is useful.

My first labor lasted 20 hours. Twenty. Sure, I slept some, and there was about an hour of pushing at the end, but there were a great number of hours when all that was happening was my labor progressing. Forget the scented candles and bring your laptop to the hospital. We watched “Baby Mama” (because we’re truly twisted individuals) during my labor. My husband listened to the Dolphins game and bought a new watch on eBay when his broke (which he’ll tell you the second you pay it any attention). I took notes on my labor to write an accurate blog entry on the experience.

Once the baby was out, I found myself updating my blog and responding to email. I even set up the e-birth announcement from my hospital room with some recently uploaded pictures.

All of that? Was when my family and friends were local.

This time my friends and family are 10,000 miles away. I want, no…NEED access to facebook, twitter, and my blogs just to keep everyone up to date and introduce the bean to everyone.

So the brand new artwork on the walls? I know I won’t even remember that it existed.

The two-room suite with special meal to celebrate the birth of our child? Don’t make me laugh–I’ll be breastfeeding, sleeping, or updating facebook. No matter how pretty the china, it will still be hospital food, and my husband and daughter (if they know what’s good for them) will be bringing me food that’s actually edible, and which will all be things I can eat one-handed.

So you first time moms keep worrying about whether you can get a manicure while you’re pregnant (you can) and working and re-working your “in labor” iTunes mix. I’ll be over here, chasing my toddler and worrying about how good a Skype connection I’ll be able to get, and how quickly sibling rivalry will set in.

Filed under: Parenting, Pregnancy | Tagged: delilah night | Leave a comment »

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