On giving

I was searching Dr. Greene's site for ideas for Verity's ears and happened upon this,

"More women become depressed while their children are babies than at any other time in life (Clin Pharmacokinet 1994 Oct;27(4):270-89). With the surging tide of postpartum hormones, mounting sleep deprivation, persistent noise, shifting body image, the change of life structure, and the loss of control of one’s own time, this depression is not surprising — even with a brand-new bundle of joy in the home."

I got pregnant with my first child after five months of marriage and then had three babies in four and half years. That includes approximately 27 months of pregnancy in addition to three subsequent years with an infant on my breast and hip and a toddler (or two) holding my hand. They say 5,000 diaper changes in two years is a rough estimate per child. I don't even want to add up how many meals that would be prepared and cleaned up from, how many hours of sleep lost. And I spent most of those years living in New York City or a rural home almost an hour from a city. 

This part of a blog post I recently read brought up something that I want these children of mine to hear about my choice to bring them into this world and my choices as I've raised them:

from: http://theweek.com/article/index/270020/the-uncomfortable-truth-in-the-giving-tree

Silverstein's classic book is not a "happily ever after" kind of tale. (Barnes & Noble, AP Photo)

"Once there was a tree and she loved a boy." And so begins Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree, the bestselling children's book that turns 50 this year and is still, 10 million copies later, one of the most divisive in the canon.

As its name suggests, the story is a tale about giving. The tree gives the boy her branches to hang from when he longs to play, apples to sell when he needs money, her branches to build with when he asks for a home, her trunk to carve a boat out of when he wants to get away, and a stump to sit on when he must rest his weary bones.

For its fans, the book is a parable about the beauty of generosity, and the power of giving to forge connection between two people. For its detractors the book is an irresponsible tale that glorifies maternal selflessness, even as the maternal figure is destroyed in the process. Despite the tree being reduced to a stump, the book declares in its final lines, "the tree was happy" — a line that has made many mothers wince.

Although they land in very different places, both readings are based on the presumption that the book itself was designed to be a happy one. The thinking is that Silverstein intended the tale to endear and so he presented us with a model of giving: the character of the tree. But I don't believe the goal here was to represent the apotheosis of giving (or a Christlike figure as some interpret it), so much as the complexity of human connection.

...This is probably a good moment to say that I love The Giving Tree. It was the first book I read (or memorized, depending on who you ask). But at age 4, I didn't think about the selflessness of the caregiver. Rather, I was enthralled by the intense power that connections have to shape who we are and what we will become. Over the years I came to see the book less and less as an endorsement of giving, and more about the way love and tragedy are irrevocably intertwined, and how our giving to others inevitably detracts from how much we can give ourselves.

My son is way too young to understand any of this, but one day I hope he sees the capacity for beauty and danger in the act of giving. If he's anything like me, his first lesson will be from this book."

Dear daughters, it is true - giving to you has inevitably detracted from how much I could give myself. This is the way for everyone who lets somebody into their life. A life shared with someone else will always be a life with danger, because it will include both love and tragedy. I have chosen to share that love and tragedy with each of you, and I will choose it every morning that I wake for the rest of my life, even as I sort through the ways that giving too much or too little has been hurtful. And I will be here for you, still learning myself, as each of you experience your own tragedies and love and face for yourselves the capacity for beauty and the danger in the act of giving.