The Man vs. My Man

My husband told his immediate supervisor that he would be leaving soon last week. Consequently, things have begun to get shady for him at work. He keeps saying "they're trying to fire me." For once in his life he's going to work every single day, on time, plus overtime. He's actually giving two weeks notice, and still there's drama. I hate this. He's stressed, which is stressing me. I asked him why he thought he was going to be fired, and said he's probably just paranoid. But he says they call him into the office everyday for something or another. One day, his time-per-call was too long. Another day, he forgot to say his name in the welcome greeting they have to say when they answer the phone. And then there's the never-ending sales quota that he hasn't met in the last week, but I think it's because of the work stress. I've spoken to some of co-workers that I see when I pick him up sometimes, and they all seem to agree that something's going on - but that it's happening to everybody, not just him. There was talk of a strike for misrepresentation of expected work schedule (they have changed everyone's hours to include weekends, and the 'temporary' mandatory overtime has been permanently extended) but those issues are supposedly in discussion because they do belong to a union.

My whole point in bringing this up is that having to work in these kinds of environments sucks. Where every single minute is clocked and watched, and returning from lunch 2 minutes late is a "tardy" and you only get two tardies in a 6 month period - after which you are fired. It's like working on pins and needles. They receive two paid days of per 6 months of work, but you must compete to take you personal day, meaning, you must be the *first* person on your floor to call in that morning asking for it. If someone beats you to it, you're out of luck. That's insane to me. And, you get two sick days for each 6 month period, but if you happen to be sick on a Saturday (nevermind you never agreed to work Saturdays in the first place) that counts for both of your sick days. It's no wonder turnover is so high. You reduce human beings down to replaceable parts in your machine. But this is how it is for most people I know. I don't know how people with children ever keep their jobs. One child gets sick one time and you're under a magnifying glass for the next 6 months. Scared of their bosses, nervous on their jobs - every minute possibly the last. It's no wonder working poor people don't always plan for their fututre, it's a little hard to plan when you don't know if the job you have today will be there tomorrow. And we are the ones who should really have a plan, just because the possibility of it happening are so real.

I hate seeing him this way because I know how hard he's working. How do you convince someone that all this BS is worth it, when it is so much easier to just sit at home and spare yourself the emotional abuse? I know he can just get another job, but that's not the point. The point is everyone from the mailman to the janitor to the CEO deserves respect. It's not a new problem, I know, but it is a new problem in our household because formerly my husband would've just quit his job, but this time he's hanging in there. I have to ask myself, is it worth his self respect, his manhood? Is there self respect without self-sufficiency? Is the only definition of manhood "provider?"

Making Marriage Work

I was speaking to a friend last night and she said "maybe we were the ones who were crazy all along."

She's talking about my marriage. More specifically, about everyone's reaction to it back then. In 2000, both 20 years old, my husband and I headed to the courthouse and tied the knot. We didn't announce our plans. My mother and cousin were only there because we needed two witnesses, and I said something like this to my mother: "We are getting married today during your lunch break, if you want to come." I love my mother. Even though there was no time for the nuptials to be special for her, and no time for her to give me advice, in that moment she was able to realize that it wasn't about her, and move out of the way with grace and a still tongue. People said all kinds of things, mainly "You're crazy. You're too young. It won't last." And this was all after the fact. I believe most people were only trying to protect me. My girlfriends all knew that I had lofty career and educational aspirations. My parents know how independent and strong willed I am. My best friend (male) said I would never be able to "let the man be the man." I didn't argue with them about it, or hold any grudges about their lack of happiness for me. I simply smiled smugly and thought to myself "time will tell."

We were young, but not disillusioned. We knew it would be hard. We knew we were broke. We knew we were unequally yoked educationally. But we also we were in love. Not infatuation. Not lust. Love. I am not one of those people that believes "love is all we need." You will never hear me say that when I was starving for food, a hug from my husband quieted the pang in my gut. But, I will say that it is a good thing to be loved by someone who will give you his half of the last pack of ramen noodles. Even with a realistic idea of marriage, and a habit of expecting the unexpected, it was still hard and there were/are things that continue to rock us to our core. But what matters is that our foundation is solid. We've tried to separate. It doesn't work because eventually one of us realizes that what one of us wants individually is not always what's best for the two of us, and we sincerely believe in this "us" that we've created. Or because we can recognize how much we've grown, and can't wait to see how our marriage will evolve over the next ten, twenty, thirty or forty years. We often talk about our 50th anniversary.

Whatever the case, we are still here and it feels damn good. But I didn't get the self-righteous "I told you so" feeling I thought I'd get when someone finally acknowledged that we weren't as young and dumb as they thought we were. Instead, I found myself profoundly sad that I have so many friends who aren't happy with their personal lives. I know the saying is "misery loves company," but, really, so does joy. I wish that for my friends. I don't wish them my life, who I am or the relationship I have because, honestly, marriage is more work than it ever seems from the outside. But I do wish them joy. Pure and simple.

The most important thing I've learned about marriage (or any relationship, since we live a country that is so anti-civil rights towards non-heteros) is this:

YOU MUST DEFINE IT FOR YOURSELVES.

A Couple is a Family, too.

My father called and asked "I don't have any grandchildren on the way yet, do I?" with his beautiful laughter. This is the #1 most frequently asked question by me and my husband's families. The words vary ever so slightly (when are ya'll havin kids? why don't ya'll have some kids? what are ya'll waiting for? how long ya'll been married again? when am I going to be an uncle/an aunt/a grandma, great grandma?) I can almost handle those now, but this one I hate: "When are ya'll gonna start a family?"

Arrrrggh. We are a family. Right now, as we are. We don't need to have children to be a family. I have had a brief, but intellectual conversation about this before (afterall, it doesn't take long if you get right down to it) and yes, we realize that we are a "couple," but we also realize that we are a two-person f-a-m-i-l-y. Would we say that a woman and her child are not a family because there are only two of them, and there is no father? No. We (and the imaginary woman and child) eat dinner together, play together, and celebrate holdiays together just like everyone else. I think people forget this when they ask us for stuff. People ask us to do things that they wouldn't dare ask a family with children to do. Like, go to the grocery store for them on Christmas morning. "I couldn't call Eli because her kids are opening their presents" or "I didn't want to bother Viv because she might be getting the kids ready for bed." It never occurs to them that me and my husband might be opening the presents that we got eachother, or that we were in the middle of giving eachother massages. Yes, I realize that we can just turn off the phone, but that's not the point. The point is, we deserve the same respect and consideration as those with children. We are more than willing to lend a hand, and we voluntarily do more than our fair share because we wholeheartedly understand the challenges of raising children and the gift of a little more time that we have been granted because we don't have children. However, please be mindful that one of the very few things that we are allowed in the world of infertility is our time spent alone together, and we don't take kindly to it being abused or taken for granted. We cherish our "family time" just like you.

WOW. That felt good.

Someone Else's Children

I spent a couple days last week braiding 2 of my little cousins' hair. My cousin has four children, and her brother and his wife were visiting with their two children. Over the course of the couple of days I teased the adults about all of their kids that filled the 2 bedroom apartment. Most of the time I was tired of the noise. But other times, I was filled with an overwhelming desire to go home to my husband and make babies. If only it were that simple. Don't get me wrong, we have the act of making babies down to a pleasurable, magnificent science. But it's the conceiving that hasn't worked for us over the last 6 years. We fluctuate between wanting and not wanting to have children. The wanting is what came first, but after some years, we realized that not having children is also working pretty well for us. We get to spend a lot of time together and do a lot of things people with children either do not have the opportunity to do, or can not do without a lot of planning. But I know we're missing out something, too. Even through all the screaming and turned over cups of red Kool-Aid, there was a sense of family that is a little harder to grasp when there are only two of us. So I sat there, feeling lonely despite the fact that I was surrounded by family and feeling a little empty for not being a part of the "mommy club." But then my father called, and I remembered...

Coming Full Circle

A couple days ago I wrote this:

I want the information I produce to be free for my target audience to read... I want that future black midwife to type what she’s looking for in the google search box... and for her to be able to simply click to read it... 

I was talking about my thesis, but a few minutes ago I thought, why doesn't this also apply to my blog?

It should.

And now it does.

I'm freeing my old posts, one by one.

To the person who left me this message the other day:

I am a minority/former attorney/aspiring midwife/FNP (just starting out in this new venture...will begin an ABSN in a few months) and in the last 24 hours, I've come across SO many other blogs that mentioned/linked your midwifery student blog. I'm coming up short, though when I reach the site.

Just thought I'd put it out there.........I would so appreciate having the opportunity to read about your experiences as an AA midwifery student. Please know that there continues to be a portion of minorities looking for what you were looking for when you started out. 

Thanks for speaking up and reminding me why I started this in the first place.

Reigning In Impulse

My office mate and fellow nurse gave notice today. I wanted to go home and crawl into bed. I’m thinking of the work that is about to be slammed on my head, and I want to jump ship, but I won’t.

Rarely am I a follower. 

The current challenge is to not jump off the bridge just because others are jumping… falling… being kicked… off the bridge. I’d like to be creative and figure out how to do less of the stuff I don’t like about my job, and more of the stuff I do even while I’m getting ready for what’s next.

And when I do move on, I want to be sure. Ready. Strategic.

The Rest is Over

I've been laying around... literally and mentally.  I figure I'm recouperating from a stressful three years of midwifery school. I accepted a job here because I loved the people I'd be working with. But we've had an unfortunate turn of events and although I'm still standing, most of the people I was working with are not. It's been sad and stressful.  This wasn't the best job offer I had in terms of pay (although it was comparable to entry level midwife salaries in my area), but it was definitely the best in terms of work environment. For example, right now I've finished what I wanted to work on today and I'm having a cup of coffee at my desk, in my office, with the lights off, the windows open, typing this post. No stress, no drama, just peace.  But of course things aren't like this every day, and lately things have been crazy... to say the least. When you're close with the people you work with and folks start getting laid off, it's hard. Really hard.


It might be because spring is right around the corner, or because I turned 30 recently, or because I can't help but compare my current self to my potential self but, in any case, I'm ready again. To get up, walk, read, listen, feel.


I recently sent a text to my best friend that went like this:

...I'm sick of smallness...

fear will not control me...

I don't owe anybody anything...

And I meant it. I give myself permission to make a change when I recognize that what I'm doing no longer serves me. Right now, my job serves its purpose.  But I've recently learned that I will not be able to achieve a lot of the things I wanted to from this experience for a variety of reasons. There's a lot to learn in my current position and I'm going to get every.single.thing I can out of the experience while I'm here. But, I know I can't be here for as long as I planned.


It bothers me because I pride myself on my word. I used to only say what I meant. I used to do what I said I'd do. I said I'd give this place a few years- that'd I'd work here while I started a PhD program in public health. That's what I said in my interview. I imagined I'd have two babies while I was here because this office is conducive to pregnancy. It's low stress, flexible, and a solid, predictable 40hr workweek. Everything midwifery is not, lol. (Well, usually anyway.)  But who knew it'd be this hard to watch someone else make the management decisions? That my school loan payment would reach the $1850 per month mark? That I'd change my mind about a PhD until I could seriously find more justification than simply, "I want it"? That I'd be 20 pounds heavier than I was at graduation with creeping blood pressure and in no shape whatsoever to attempt pregnancy? That I'd miss bellies so much?


Certainly not me.

It is easy to work here. I'm right around the sixth month mark and I've found my groove. I like what I do and believe it has value. I believe I'm paid a fair wage.

Still.

It is not enough.

It is not midwifery.

No Such Luck

Mariela commented on my last post:

What we do in geology is publish in journals, and then include either a really late draft or a pdf of the actual thing (depending on the copyright rules of the journal) on a personal website, with the title of the paper as the link. Google Scholar can find pdfs of papers on personal websites and offers them for download.

I like this method.

Unfortunately, it's not allowed for articles submitted to JMWH. In fact, you must transfer copyright to JMWH if you want to publish there.

Sigh.

Access to Knowledge

Yesterday I had this moment when I thought to myself, I’m ready to publish my thesis results. Of course the first place I thought to submit it was JMWH. But then, within a matter of seconds I thought, and then only certain people will have access to it.

I want the information I produce to be free for my target audience to read. I don’t want people to have to buy a subscription to a journal or pay to access an article online. I want that future black midwife to type what she’s looking for in the google search box, have my thesis come up, and for her to be able to simply click to read it. I don’t want her to have to be at a research institution with VPN access. But if I do that, I lose something. I’m trying to articulate what exactly I lose.

It’s not authorship.

It’s prestige.

I won’t be able to say I’ve been published in a peer-reviewed publication.

Does that matter to me?

Really?

There were so many times while writing my thesis that I came upon abstracts of studies I really, really wanted to read but that never produced published articles. In fact, I toyed with the idea of doing another study about what happened after finishing one's dissertation that led to them not publishing the material after all that hard work. But I had to stay focused.

Now that school is over (thank god!) I have time to do some of the things I want to do. My thesis feels like unfished business. But I'm torn about copyrights and access to knowledge.

Haiku

when least expected

my calling whispers to me

not to be ignored