It took Andy and I a year and a half to get pregnant. I was beginning to think that I was infertile and it was a pretty scary thought. We definitely didn’t have the money to explore IVF. Just getting a sperm count was expensive. And when we did get pregnant that year and a half later, I miscarried soon after. Then I went to see an acupuncturist and found that my chi was “blocked”. Whatever that means. I drank herbs 2 times a day for… well I can’t remember. And I don’t put much stock in all that…I don’t know… gee your aura is a nice shade of magenta. Oh look, it’s glowing. The force is strong in this one. I do know that I ended up getting pregnant again pretty soon after I chugged my last fucknasty cup of tea.
Anyway, for that year and a half, and the months after I miscarried, I searched the Internet for something to read that I could relate to. I needed to feel encouraged. And since I assumed that I was infertile, it’s no surprise that I ended up perusing through and reading a good amount of blogs written by infertile women. A little pregnant being the primary one. That chick is pretty damn funny. She manages to joke and and write in detail about her painful experiences with infertility, the several times that she miscarried, and how she finally lucked out and managed to stay pregnant long enough to give birth to her son. I love that she wrote about that crazy Duggar family that seems to want to take over the world, when I saw the show on Discovery Health I thought mine eyes were deceiving me. The whole special was about how they were going on their 15th kid, and by the end of the segment they find out she’s pregnant again! Even if you’re not infertile and bitter, who wouldn’t find humor (and possibly disgust) in the fact that this woman has been pregnant non stop for at least 15 years? Turns out Michelle and Jim Bob (that’s right, kids. JIM BOB.) gave up birth control pills after she miscarried in the first few years of their marriage, because miscarriages never happen spontaneously. They only happen when you’re using contraceptives. Duh. Oh! And I love how the mom dresses her daughters in what have got to be the ugliest jumpers I’ve seen this side of Little House on the Prairie, while the boys get to enjoy some kind of normalcy in khakis and polo shirts. The eldest kids who are in their teens can’t even date, at least, not unsupervised. I see a Flowers in the Attic storyline unfolding…*Checks website* Dude. She’s STILL pregnant.
I’ve also been reading blogs written by white women who have adopted black children (I think a couple of these women live in Portland, too); it’s interesting how they are essentially black parents*: when their children are persecuted against, they are in kind. They hear and see things that they weren’t privy to before. I came across one entry that really resonated with me. The author wrote that black babies are seen as adorable, but black teenagers are another story. See, black teenagers are automatically felons and thus, are to be feared. *sighs* When I’ve heard people say things like “Black babies are so cute” or “Everyone wants a black baby” I’ve never quite known what to say to that. It’s strange to hear people speak that way. They think they’re paying you a compliment, but it just comes across offensively. It sounds like something you’d say about a pet, not a human being. It’s kind of like all those vapid starlets who just have to have the latest tiny rat dog that they can fit in their purse. Does everyone who adopts a black baby do so just to be trendy? I don’t think so. I don’t think the people who make these statements are actually the ones who’d risk leaving their safe little bubbles to live life as “the other”. It’s just cool in theory, right?
There’s also the whole “interracial babies are the most beautiful babies” argument that gets thrown around a lot. It makes me cringe sometimes when people come up to us when we’re out and comment on my kid’s attractiveness. I know it’s what people do with babies, but sometimes I feel like Zain is seen as some kind of novelty (one nurse in the hospital told me that she really liked his complexion). Look lady, I don’t know you from Adam. Please take two steps back. My kid’s beautiful because Andy and I are his parents, and that’s just how we do. Case in point:
* ETA: Yeah. Let me rephrase that, since I don’t necessarily agree with my phrasing. I don’t think that having a child of color makes a white woman/man a black parent because the absence of that child will allow them to safely “pass”; to put in crudely…blackness can’t just…rub off on you. It doesn’t work that way. I do think one can acquire a heightened sense of their surroundings, and like any parent, feel their child’s pain when they’ve been mistreated.
to be continued…