Swallowed by a Snake

Golden mentions that there is no cut and dry when it comes to grief and that we need to be prepared for the long haul. I have long contended that the death of a child is unlike any other and Golden validates this when he says that the death of a child is more like an amputation than a wound; that dealing with the loss of a child is more like dealing with the loss of a body part than a wound (Golden pp16-17). I agree.

This snake was in our garden a few years ago.

He also discusses gauging grief (Golden pp 19-21) and I found this discussion kind of followed what I’ve already learned. For example, when my dad died, although he was young (just 51) he was older than I and we expect our parents to die before we do. When Papa died, he was older than I and we expect our grandparents to die before we do. Daniel is my son and our children are not supposed to die before we do. This has to do with expectedness. When we are more attached, we tend to grieve more. I think that my sister, Becky, probably grieved more for our dad because I think she was the most attached to him. I think I my grief for Daniel is still very strong at times because I am still attached to him. Papa was my anchor in a storm-tossed sea. When a death is natural, the grief tends to be less fierce.

Golden made a great analogy (Golden p 42): “Grief is like manure: if you spread it out, it fertilizes; if you leave it in a big pile, it smells like hell.” I have found this to be true. Dealing with grief a little bit here and a little bit there keeps it manageable. If you keep it all bottled up inside or attempt to deal with it all at once, it really doesn’t work.

A quote of interest to me when discussing guilt is, “There can be a sense of wanting to join the person who has died, or there can be a complete loss of wanting to continue living (Golden p 68).” That is exactly how I felt when I was alone in that hospital room. How could life possibly go on without Daniel in it? And, yes, there is some guilt associated with the whole experience. However, life does go on and eventually, when the time is right, I will graduate as well.

There are some physical differences between men and women that go deeper than the skin. There are some physiological differences as well (Golden pp 73-74). I knew that at least in part from taking A&P. But I had never really considered what difference these differences might make not only in grieving but in the way we live our lives. For example, it is physically more difficult for a man to cry.

In the section “Men and the Hierarchy,” Golden discusses how men tend to a hierarchal nature, meaning everyone has a role and position, and women tend to work together all on the same level (Golden pp 74-75). Please remember that these are generalizations, not hard and fast rules. I thought this particularly interesting when using it to contemplate the whole equal-pay-for-equal-work battle in the workforce (and in life). Women tend to want to be equal and men tend to want to be best. Isn’t that interesting?

There is an activity that Golden explains called “Active Imagination” (Golden pp 94-95). I always thought and have often been told that I have an Active Imagination. And I think I do. However, I haven’t used it the way Golden talks about here. For one thing, he mentions that we can name our grief because once we’ve named a thing, we can own it. I’ve heard that before so it makes sense. He also describes having a conversation of sorts with your grief. For example, he suggests the following question: “Grief, what do I need to know about you?” This should be written down on a paper. The first thought or response that comes to mind, you also write on the paper. Then you respond to that with another question and continue on. I really like this idea.

Lastly for this discussion, Golden mentions the locus of control over the deathbed (Golden p 101). Like birth, which we have mostly lost to the hospitals and medical professionals, we have lost death. People used to die in their own ‘space’ so to speak, surrounded with things and people that had meaning and were important to them. This has changed. Just as birth has changed. And, really, aren’t they one and the same?

Golden, Thomas R. Swallowed by a Snake: The Gift of the Masculine Side of Healing. Gaithersburg, MD: Golden Healing Pub., 2000. Print.

Three in a Bed

We live in a society that decries abuse of children in any form: physical, emotional, verbal, economic, mental, or sexual. When we throw a child into his/her own bed in his/her own room, shut the door and ignore the subsequent screams, is this not a type of abuse? A baby is in relatively tight quarters, warm and snug, within its mother for nine months previous to birth. During this time, the baby hears the sound of mother’s voice, heartbeat, and any surrounding noise. At night, baby sleeps with mother. Suddenly, once born, the baby is expected to sleep alone, often in a separate room. The baby will ‘learn’ that no comfort is coming and will eventually ‘learn’ to sleep alone. But only after emotional, mental and sometimes verbal abuse. (Jackson p 35)

Mothers are taught not to trust themselves. They must give birth in the hospital because the doctors and nurses know better what to do and are more able to deal with complications should they arise. If parents dare to speak of giving birth outside the hospital, they are likely told horror stories of homebirth (I’d like to know where all the horror stories of hospital birth are).  Even when things are going well, well-meaning people can make comments that make a mother second guess herself or she might read something in a magazine article (or online), doctors make offhand comments, etc. (Jackson p 40)

Sometimes these well-meaning people tell new mothers that they will not get a good night of sleep if they sleep with their baby in the same bed. What very few people seem to know is that a breastfeeding mother normally does not sleep deeply; she is attuned to her baby and will be more likely to waken at the slightest noise. Since babies don’t sleep deeply and mothers don’t sleep deeply, it makes sense to sleep in the same bed. This way, baby will not have to cry to get mother’s attention and mother won’t have to completely awaken to fill baby’s needs. (Jackson p 72)

SIDS and mechanical suffocation are not one and the same. (Jackson p 90) Recent studies have suggested that babies who die from SIDS are actually predisposed to it and there is really very little that their parents can do to prevent it (Boston Children's Hospital. "Brainstem abnormalities found in SIDS infants, in all sleep environments." ScienceDaily. ScienceDaily, 11 November 2013. <www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/11/131111091733.htm>.). While reports of these studies point to brain stem issues, they all clearly warn parents against having the baby sleeping with them. Two things to remember are that mechanical suffocation happens much less often than SIDS and that it is avoidable (Jackson p 93).

It is interesting to note that in a sample of over 100 societies, “the American middle class ‘was unique in putting the baby to sleep in a room of his own.’ (Jackson p 121)” It is interesting to note that we, homo sapiens, have lasted so long when we have been warned against having babies sleep with their parents for only the past 150 years or so. We, as a species, should have died out long ago.

My oldest slept in a cradle near the side of my bed until she was six months old. When she woke up, I would bring her to bed with me and feed her and then return her to her cradle. For six months, life was pretty good. Then, because I was young and very susceptible to all of the well-meaning advice being shoveled at me, she moved to a crib in her own room. I didn’t sleep particularly well and neither did she. In fact, she often had night terrors. I would get her when she was screaming and she would calm down but life wasn’t as good as it had been. We tried nightlights and stories and teas and nothing helped. To think that simply bringing her to bed would have helped seems oversimple and yet I know it would have. It’s almost frightening that this issue of night waking is singularly a problem of the developed world (Jackson p 130).

An interesting quote regarding babies in bed when we make love: “It is that society does not know where to draw the line between ‘healthy’ loving, constructive, reproductive relationships—and violent, abusive, uncontrolled desire. (Jackson p 142)”

When it comes to weaning, Jackson feels that we belong to a ‘weaning’ society meaning that we are not capable of living in the moment, that we live instead to push members on to the next step whether or not each individual is ready for such (Jackson p 144). I certainly feel this to be true. We compare our children to the children of our friends and the children of celebrities. We now have Common Core which will ensure that our children are able to jump through the appropriate hoops at the appropriate time. What has happened to us?

Because we wean, we have tantrums. This makes perfect sense. If an individual is not ready to do something, he is not ready. An adult can communicate this; a young child cannot. However, because we wean, we blame the tantrums on heredity or genetics (one and the same, I think) and begin negative programming that will most likely never be overcome (Jackson pp 152-3). I was going to say that one thing that I do not agree with 100% is that holding breath is a version of having a tantrum. Daniel would hold his breath until he passed out and Daniel was generally a very happy baby. However, as I began to think about it, when did Daniel hold his breath? When he needed something. It wasn’t that he was being weaned, however, and it only happened less than ten times over a period of about twelve months. He would do it if he was tired, hungry, or was being watched by someone and did not have immediate access to me (happened once). If holding breath is a version of having a tantrum, it isn’t always. If holding breath occurs because a child is being weaned, there are other reasons as well.

I love this paragraph (Jackson pp157-8): “We adopted Jean Liedloff’s golden rule: ‘Never do anything for a child that he can do for himself.’ You could call it minimalist mothering.”

And here is some food for thought:

“Devoted care is out of date. Bring in ‘the machine that goes “ping!”’. It is ironic that in these days of high technology, a new mother is fobbed off with a list of rules that date back to the Victorians, from whom we have received our current taboos about co-sleeping. Not one good argument for the cot has emerged in a hundred years.

“Now is the time to revise our outlook. We know what babies need, and we know how to provide it. All the professionals have to do is stand back and let the mothers get on with it.”

If it was time in 1989, what is it now, a quarter of a century later?

PS There are later editions of the book. I guess I need to get hold of one.

Jackson, Deborah. Three in a Bed: The Healthy Joys & Remarkable Benefits of Sharing Your Bed with Your Baby. London: Bloomsbury Pub., 1989. Print.