9999 ISSUES LEFT Dr D Whittaker, curator Non-profit Org. EXPONENTI Harold B. Lee Library, BYU U. S. Postage Pi‘ ost OffBiox cNoe. 1 28 Arch. of Mormon Exper PAID Prove UT 84602 Boston MA Perm#i 59t46 9 EEE, TT ee EDITORIALS Sustaining Each Other Sue Paxman Lexington, Massachusetts or the past few years, Heather Cannon on the east coast, Stephanie Southwick- We, as the volunteer staff, want all and Ann Gardner Stone from the Cahoon has agreed to work with Ann. We who read and contribute to Exponent II to Chicago area have fulfilled their jobs appreciate all the time and energy that they know how vital your contributions of as Associate Editors for Exponent II by have and will-especially Heather as she thought, writing, funds, and support are to the acquiring articles and essays around themes makes her transition to a new job and home— ongoing publication of the paper and how selected from the long list of topics that you put in to furthering our efforts. If there are much we appreciate knowing that you are have let us know that you are interested in. other groups of readers who would like to there. The annual retreat in New Hampshire Most of the articles in this issue discuss some suggest topics or select one from our list and gives us all a chance to put faces with the aspect of experiencing infertility. offer to acquire essays around those topics, names that have become so dear over the In producing such theme issues, we write or call and let us know. twenty years we’ve been together as readers hope to create a forum for an honest ex- For those of you interested in submit- and staff. But, even if we have never met change of experiences and ideas, an atmo- ting essays, some of the topics being covered face-to-face, we feel your presence and sphere of empathy and support for those of in the next year will be date rape, a double support and are sustained. us who are affected by the topic under issue of favorite contributions (essays, Most importantly, however, together discussion, and a platform on which each fiction, poetry, and art from the twenty years We, as sisters in the gospel of Jesus Christ, topic can inspire further discussion by your of Exponent IT), being single in a married have created a safe place where we can share submitting your thoughts in the form of a church, and the Mormon male revisited. If our love, our stories, our sorrows, our joys, personal essay to Exponent and/or holding you are interested in contributing to any of our spirits. We owe each other much. * your own discussion groups in your area. these issues, write or call to let us know, and Because Heather, one of the founding we’ll give you a submission deadline. mothers of Exponent II, recently took a job Fertile Ground Ann Gardner Stone Evanston, Illinois Talk of infertility brings all that This issue of Exponent IT looks at Mother’s Day bile bubbling to the surface. fertility and infertility in some very interest- We feel unworthy, that we don’t measure up, ing ways. We have the views of a mother-to- that we are being patronized. We continue to be (now a mother-in-fact, since the arrival of contend with all that baggage until we can Emma Cahoon), experiences with a difficult hardly talk about motherhood except in pregnancy and pre-mature birth, a miracle guarded whispers. conception, ambivalence over being a stay- I understand a little of the frustration at-home mom, and some gritty problems that and hurt that childless women feel. My deal with infertility and adoption. I wish for husband and I had difficulties conceiving the voice of the woman who has no children both our children. My first child was born and is at peace and the voice of the woman after we had been married about four years. who is in pain and still struggling. I know After we had been married for a year and a you are there, and we are listening. I hope half, people started to ask me why we had no this issue of Exponent will open some dia- children. I was astonished by their boldness logue and offer a chance to get beyond the and their prying. Why do even the most feelings that there is only one way to gain the well-meaning think it’s their business? I experiences of this life. started to devise answers along the lines of Special thanks to Heather Cannon “My husband and I have yet to consummate who has moved to Philadelphia and will no our marriage” or “I really dislike kids, and longer be able to help with putting this once- his issue of Exponent was supposed please don’t ask me to babysit yours.” Are a-year issue together. And welcome to { to explore the problems of infertility. those replies any more offensive than the Stephanie Southwick-Cahoon who has The funny, or sad, thing is that it has original question? stepped up and agreed to fill the void. * become an issue about fertility. The women And then there are those lessons that I know who are childless because of infertil- work to equate priesthood and motherhood. ity don’t want to talk about it. They are still By teaching such concepts, we find yet trying to get pregnant, so perhaps they think another way to establish a class system in the P.S. I don’t know if working on this issue talking about it will jinx their chances. Or kingdom. No wonder we don’t want to talk had anything to do with it, but two of our perhaps it is just too painful a topic, particu- about infertility. contributors are now pregnant. To future contributors to Exponent II: Be Careful! larly in our very family-oriented culture. 2 EXPONENT II ° 1994 —— Thoughts on Off and on for the past eleven years, I their birth experience, and their ties to another have helped teach adoption preparation family. Many have been abused and ne- Impaired Fertility classes for five different state agencies. glected before placement. There are dramatic During those years, I have worked with differences between adopting a baby and numerous couples who have experienced adopting a teenager. I have done both, and Suzanne Stott impaired fertility, and I have encouraged although I was very aware of adoption issues, Salt Lake City, Utah many of them to adopt children. In the I found myself continually comparing myself training courses that I teach, we spend one with parents whose teenagers functioned complete session discussing infertility be- higher than mine—were better students, more r iJ he issue of infertility was never a big cause I feel that it should be talked about— socially appropriate, and so forth. deal in our marriage because we had faced, if you will-before a child is placed in a What shocked me the most was that planned to adopt children even before home. I have observed that unresolved even though my teenaged son had been in the we learned that my husband was sterile. So feelings about infertility can actually hinder foster care system for over eight years, I recently I was surprised by feeling sad emotional attachment to an adopted child found myself thinking, in really tough mo- because I am going through menopause. I because coping with infertility can be such a ments, that I probably wasn’t doing as well as was overcome by a sense of loss as I realized negative experience that one’s self-esteem his biological parents would have done, even (although I hadn’t really thought about it in suffers. thought he was taken from them because of twenty years) that I really never would give The following are some of the ways their neglect! birth to a child in this life. that unresolved feelings about infertility can Adoptive parents need to have realistic Feeling sad about infertility jarred negatively affect adoptive parents: expectations about parenting. No parent knows all there is to know about children and me. I have spoken at numerous RESOLVE (a support group for people dealing with 1) Fantasizing about a biological child. their care. infertility) functions on infertility and adop- Many times adopted kids don’t “measure tion, but Ih ad never been able to fully iden- up,” and parents wonder what it would have Believing, because they are often so tify with the painful and awful feelings of so been like if they had had children of their battered after going through infertility testing, many of the couples at those meetings. “own.” Even if the child is “perfectly that they no longer are capable people. We had been married three years matched” to the adoptive parents, there are Treatment for infertility can be so protracted, when we learned that my husband was times when the behaviors and attitudes of the expensive, and emotionally draining that the sterile. I remember sitting in our car in the child seem very much out of their comfort process can block one’s ability to be a good parking lot of the doctor’s office talking zone. (Obviously this can happen with parent. I have a friend who adopted a baby about the situation. I don’t recall any sense biological children, too, but in adoption, after ten frustrating years of impaired fertility of overwhelming loss or grief. In fact, we these feelings are magnified.) “My bio kid treatment and hassling with adoption agen- felt relieved. A door had closed, but another would have made the honor roll . . . could cies. She felt that she had waited so long to had opened—we would build our family have harmonized on key . . . would never become a parent and had so often promised through adoption as we had originally have been this self-destructive . . . would not Heavenly Father that she would be the best planned. have become pregnant as an unmarried mother that she could be that she was stunned I’m not saying that there weren’t hard teenager.” In moments of great frustration, I the first time she became angry with her baby. moments during the time that we had been have wondered, “What would it have been Wanting to “kill” her child certainly did not trying to get pregnant. We struggled with like if they had my genes? Wouldn’t he be fit with the ideas that she had had before she feelings of being defective and of having too more obedient? Wouldn’t she want to go to became a parent! little faith. (“Maybe the family should fast church . . . finish her homework . . . complete and then pray together so that you can get her chores?” We have to expect to be ill at ease in pregnant and won’t have to adopt. At least many parental situations, and we have to your first child can be born under the cov- t2 ) Believing that you were not meant to accept that we will make mega mistakes. But, enant,” my sister-in-law suggested. “Have be parents. These parents believe that that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be par- you considered a blessing from a General Heavenly Father must have other plans for ents—even though we may feel that we paid Authority?” a friend asked.) But for us, them. If they adopt a child anyway, they dearly for the right. having our own biological children was more often have trouble parenting because they are I am thrilled to be a parent. I can’t an issue of doing what was expected of us so tenuous about their roles as real parents imagine loving my children more. But I am rather than what we really wanted to do. parenting real children. When things go made aware daily of the “loss” involved in Nine years into marriage, we were awry during the adoption process or even this type of parenting, which when coupled finally able to adopt our first child; we added after the child is placed in the home, they with impaired fertility and adoption is particu- nine more in the next eleven years, along think that maybe they tampered with fate in larly pronounced. Not only must adopting with numerous foster children. Besides making the decision to adopt. adults deal with the “loss” of the biological being an adoptive parent, I have answered an child they were not able to have, but the adoption hotline in my home off and on for 3] Feeling defective. These parents do adopted child must also deal with the loss of thirteen years, conducted numerous work- not trust in their capacity to be good parents. the birth family and, in many instances, shops and seminars on adoption issues, and “Tf this were a child from my own genetic siblings or other significant foster family published a newsletter for adoptive families. heritage, I could trust my instincts.” members. Birthparents and their families I have been a volunteer case worker with must deal with the loss of the child who is three agencies, worked with countless Comparing themselves to parents of adopted. All individuals involved in the birthparents, and had many birthmothers live biological children. While parenting chil- process must deal with the loss of control over with me during their pregnancies. Currently, dren is, at best, difficult, parenting adoptive their lives because of their involvement with I am my state’s adoption representative, and I children dramatically affects family dynam- fertility doctors, adoption agencies, and the direct my own adoption agency, which ics because adopted children enter the family legal system. Painful as these losses are, focuses on children with special needs— with a unique set of circumstances, and the however, sharing them allows marriage handicapped, retarded, sibling groups, older, issues raised by adoption are often never partners, parents, and children to touch each and minorities—where I am also an adoption fully put to rest. All children entering an other at a very meaningful level. * counselor. adoptive family bring with them their genes, VOLUME 18 * NUMBER 2 3 0 eee Ea A Mother in the Making Stephanie Southwick-Cahoon Evanston, Illinois otherhood has always been part of youth and opportunity in Boston where I had It’s one thing to hope, intend, and plan; it's M the way I’ve pictured myself, been working for four years. Many of my quite another to actually have a positive although during the past ten years friends were comfortably single at thirty. In pregnancy test. I would have admitted that fact to few their company, I felt sheepish about my My emotions ran in sequence: re- people. If asked, I might have said some- engagement ring and defensive about my lieved, overwhelmed, angry. The first two I thing like, “Sure, I want kids-some day. I decision to sacrifice so much “freedom.” expected; the third caught me by surprise. I want to have it all.” Instead, I emphasized my Before our engagement, twenty-six was angry because getting pregnant had been dreams of a career and graduate school, both had made me feel like a dried prune when- so easy. I’ve spent my life expecting to earn of which were also vital parts of my self- ever I returned to Utah. Relatives and friends the things that matter most; becoming a concept. My intent was to condition people of my parents would politely ask me, “Now, parent was no exception. My mother’s to expect the unexpected: that a woman how old are you again?” They would rum- doctor told her she would never have chil- might actually have a significant career mage through their mental databases, trying dren. I grew up knowing that my two broth- outside the home and, more importantly, that to think of someone who just might rescue ers and I each represented a miracle. In I might never be married or have children— me from the spinsterhood on my relationship addition, I fully expected to inherit her two deep fears that I secretly brooded over. horizon. “Twenty-six is a good age,” they infertility and endure similar trials. The news As one of the few feminists I knew at would say reassuringly, without ever specify- of our pregnancy seemed something less than the University of Utah, I felt responsible for ing just what it was good for. miraculous. So I spent several weeks full of challenging the pervasive assumption that Twenty-six is the age I always guilt over our good fortune, waiting for the after college women were to marry and have thought I would be when (and if) I got mar- luck to change. children. My efforts were so successful that ried. I’ve never had a number in mind for “Why shouldn’t it change,” I would when I announced my engagement, my when I would have a baby. I guess it seemed ask myself. I knew couples who had spent grandfather thought I was joking. More than dangerous to assume that such a dream three years trying to have a child, a woman one friend said, “Wow, this is a surprise, would be a reality. I now know the number who had one and could never have another, coming from you.” is twenty-eight. “We’re having a baby!” my and a good friend who had just had a miscar- I was twenty-six when Steve and I journal reads on August 10, 1992. The riage. And here I was, no better prepared to became engaged, an age associated with exclamation mark represents my amazement. be a parent than any of them. Why do we Who’s In Control? The Ups and Downs of Fertility Alyson Beytien Homewood, Illinois was raised by incredible parents who pen if I couldn’t have children. She told me dosage. At this same visit, he recommended I taught me that I was talented, intelligent, not to even think such a thing, and I didn’t. that Craig do a sperm test, “just for the beautiful, and loved by the Lord. This We had been married four months records.” Three days later, we found out that teaching was constantly reinforced by a when we decided to start our family. I have a his sperm count was zero. Our doctor kindly lWoev inlgi,v eds upipn otrhtei vsea mger owuap rdo f mwya rdw homleem belirfse,. phiesrtioordy aotf tmhee n“sotlrdu”a la gdei ffoifc usletvieens;t eeIn s,t aratnedd imt y ctoelndt augse ; thtath e tchheay nccoeusl donf’ tm ye vegne ttcionugn tp rae gpnearn-t edsasinunpdjrde.or a yokfMeuiirdnnye gds eiogdduaie rtsr .lbcg fyorrn iEoffevwrenieirdenensnn gdc asae snus dpm,I y Iyb r eeweaagegrgariseneo n aaaasvnl ed vmr imyusae icdebuahtllc eitt nsia gsva esnw—w dh e o thelfaawartiseeen dn t tbmiyetny,heg an,t Ic ay nhscaat lusavestri.ertn aueg,dgI gtly taweoan akudsier nv pgeopa rnei tlrnhsyi.ei o ndtcpB heiue.ldtn li dtnAIto’ht dta hi tted rhnlIee’p q td ua irigsegrecgee out v- o- f Twwwuiehhmlroemlel-y el o nesnetien Tm’vehpsedwilr a s yyj s uteaesnhtldt oal dn ovseeyfeaxdo yid u,tso oict inpteonfoonp rotkLesr.ian, mnu agrtnsyei eolouw anr nc ldtarw essehpstqors ul,oti edhr dnaeiteds nwe gyx—aso .ul ife pllsdmlm(pirroeuioryveavospnoe ndesmpscc. l.ioimee a yoro se ntti IdIbaphen le Wfreedegiedoyor xs l p,u,splicl fn ean,aeudsc h ral, tbsea Ipe oevhl ltdrtahieiha,,h fma a n te)dt nae,mI f fee Iryuttdnwl booea .awl umgm s ochte p ou oorlfItlneo,me h vdtr ne eheh ec uw remomtmshrtaaueeaa b rnrarmtartmdcar inbh hygyaadewim egn ron eydhuga a, t usln hara sCaddseatbn h ok,tnadfuc iuhdnh r nlra itdigcnplhft --eheeh ds e en pWgnttfwsArhohypefieereeenvtt cg,eehis ntfrrohaiiha umarlxinsta idyontt nsvm g.Btouosar be thl noecahucpteutatesorhnnheurbnee d.s sg af tenffinro eiawrdOarfvnmh tmcue cieek Cyralydinl mi n,n t oodf goymi nt l irIihmttdsdab dthyeobt ag ,rsc esot t aftcrdoabl aiooacr rpnanctms o b ,te tjt oooouth vha rdhemua ntoeyrplvhd b i-eae dvns tit ricwtsefiuor eyaemoaguer ropnnstastu eib s lreodeioadtbgrdthnot/yua a. u gnt tr.a hle eIl eaidttwhiUoonvnboano felfsnwrthareo e,oien r tstcoeatm ocpalxueouoe hnnanpnrerdsaimtrtra ttnies nrtehicoi aeelotonandvnylisgwe en,y,e d r or.apynslta onh , ohnuyd neCdwrds ge ro h ai,tsnaeca wuu i iarntoarglcloe ung, sl od letohhmp rdkigaelymc esis a us eauwhcltbpcnaaaae mo srvsdhuii ae,iltn p ts id cfhrnttnhoa otaoo’atro hrnbrt mbyidtl wi eeg eehn dhoobmrand ffee vuo s nuemtnctwsa' ehhwe hstaroo bek tto- ehn el ea,d.tn 4 EXPONENT II + 1994 ee deserve to be happy? I pondered this arbi- friends with children smile when I say things At other times, I feel lucky to have | trariness and the nature of God without ever like that.) I was relieved to read that it's the option to stay home and witness every arriving at a satisfactory explanation. My normal for pregnant women to worry about mood and movement of this life inside me. I analysis simply strengthened my belief that every possible negative outcome; I like being wonder about his or her personality; about God’s main role in our lives is to be a com- in good company. how the genes of a5 ’3" mother and 673" panion and source of comfort. I know He What I feel now varies daily. At father will combine. My eyes? His teeth? | shares the pain these women feel. times, I feel like I’m selling out. I received a Whose laugh? I smile at the tapping against | Somewhere in the middle of eight master’s degree in English in June, fully my rib cage. I think about names: what | weeks of morning sickness (what a misno- intending to teach high school or rejoin the sounds strong enough, beautiful enough? I mer!), I lost my feeling of unworthiness. In editorial and design world. No job has fallen think about rocking this baby for hours in our its stead came nausea and fatigue. My mother in my lap, but I haven’t spent more than living room, about explaining the world and assured me that the illness would pass and thirty minutes looking for one. Nevertheless, God. On days like these, I feel spiritually that I would soon forget; I assured her that I I meant what I said in college. I do want to full, deeply indebted to God for allowing us have a long memory. At the worst times, I have it all. Now, “all” means balance— this favor of life. would lie in bed and cry while Steve begged including being part of the workforce. Will I As the remaining weeks of pregnancy me to eat and offered to go to any grocery go crazy without regular adult conversation? dwindle to single digits, I find myself swing- store or restaurant I could name. “Please Will I feel important if my list of accomplish- ing between impatience and panic. (“Will it don’t talk about food,” I would say. During ments is “changed ten diapers” instead of ever end?” vs. “What will I do with a baby?’”’) the good times, I would thumb through my “finished feature story”? Perhaps more I’m hard pressed to remember myself as the pregnancy calendar, trying to visualize the importantly, will I be a good example for my woman who wore the size 6 jeans that I ran growth of fingernails and eye lashes. On rare children? I want them, especially my daugh- across yesterday. Instead, I’m used to traips- trips outside, I took great comfort in the sight ters, to grow up believing that they can be ing around the apartment in my husband’s of other human beings. “Everyone of these anything, and I feel responsible to be a role shorts (waist 36) and sweatshirts (XXL). people has a mother who survived morning model who proves that idea true. I want to I’ve grown accustomed to leading with my sickness,” I reasoned. be part of a new generation that redefines stomach, tying laces on the sides of my shoes My mother was partially correct: the roles for men and women in a more equitable because I can’t reach the middle, and rocking illness did pass. Mental and emotional way, So that both genders share rather than back and forth to raise myself out of chairs. concerns now outweigh the physical (except divide the rewards and responsibilities of life I’m so used to being pregnant that at times when I survey the dwindling selection in my in and out of the home. It was important to the idea of a new unknown is frightening. I closet). Our bedside table is stacked with me to marry a man who cooked, cleaned, and watch women with infants and listen repeat- books on pregnancy and child development, did laundry—and didn’t care whether I did. edly to their labor stories in an effort to evidence of my belief that every event in life Now, I fear that our marriage will slip into a prepare for the next stages. has a guide book. If I just read enough, I’ll traditional pattern that I’ve worked so hard to be prepared is the way my logic works. (My avoid. (Continued on page 6) again. Much to my husband’s discomfort, working with you and help you out.” She I have learned many things from the example the surgery was performed again. was very sincere and had no idea of the that she set in fulfilling her duties as a Pri- During this time, we lived in our first heartbreak she had just caused me. A few mary leader. She was sincere in her desires home in suburban Los Angeles. It was alsoa weeks later, one of the brethren pulled my for me-she just never stopped to think. typical suburban California ward—everyone husband aside at church, encouraged him to A job change moved us to Chicago lived in the same style house, had approxi- have a talk with me about my “priorities,” within a year. Being a native Southern mately the same income, drove vans, and had and recommended a few scriptures for us to Californian (read “beach bunny”), the 2.3 children. We had 150 active Primary read on the importance of families. thought of Illinois almost did me in. I was children in our ward. We also had one But the crowning glory came, once not only leaving my career, home, and couple without children—us! again, from my Primary president. After a family, I also had to find and initiate a whole I never felt any different from the board meeting, she, my closest friend, and I new set of doctors. other ward members. Because of my up- were left in the room. The subject of chil- While we were in Chicago, my bringing, I assumed that we were accepted dren came up, and she looked at me with all husband had two minor testicular biopsy and loved and understood by everyone at the compassion she could muster and said, surgeries. The decision was made for an- Church. We did not feel that it was neces- “Alyson, I know one day your heart will be other surgery that would, in our urologist’s sary to inform everyone of our inability to right, and you will want to have children.” opinion, fix blocked tubes and solve all of have children. She kindly patted my arm and left. My our baby problems. The surgery took place Many of our ward members knew that girlfriend hit the roof. “How can you let her in downtown Chicago and took four hours I had a demanding career and most assumed do that?!” she raged. I had been truly too longer than anticipated. I was sick with that we had made the choice not to have stunned to answer. worry in a strange hospital—alone—and it was children. The president’s comment was just the snowing outside. The doctor finally came to It became clear that our “choice” was latest in a long line from people who did not the waiting room, took my hand in his, and an issue when I received my first calling—as know us or our situation and who felt that very kindly told me that there was nothing the first counselor in a new Primary presi- there could be no other explanation for our they could do. There was so much damage to dency. The Primary president came to visit not having children than a conscious decision Craig’s tubes that they couldn’t be repaired. me and said, “Alyson, I don’t know why the on my part. I knew that these people truly We would never be able to have our own Lord has called you to this position. Because felt that they were “helping” us. My Primary children. you don’t have children, you can’t relate to president, in particular, was a woman of great I don’t think I can adequately de- kids, and I’m sure you won’t know what to spirituality who loved her calling, the Lord scribe how that felt. Our physician had not do with them, but we’ll just have to keep and her own five children with all her heart. (Continued on page 6) VOLUME 18 * NUMBER 2 A Mother in the Making (Continued from page 5) I’ve grown comfortable with this little person inside and our rhythm. We seem to have important things in common, like excitement over Snickers bars and oatmeal cookie Kinship fit = dough. Even though I can’t translate the messages, I appreciate the daily, sometimes Margaret Rampton Munk hourly, communication of taps and kicks. I wonder if I will miss the oneness. Why? I also love the closeness in our mar- The white-haired matriarch demanded. riage. We share our dreams and curiosity Why graft this brown-skinned child about this child, realizing that together we Into your family tree, have permanently changed the planet. “This A tropic pineapple is big,” I say to Steve occasionally, not Upon a bough of temperate pears? referring to my stomach. “The world will be Choose one at least a different place in April.” And we smile. Who looks like you. I’ve gained great reverence for the This one is not your son. process of creation, for the wisdom in gradu- ally making a child and a mother. When I try In pride of family, to fathom the profoundness of this event, I She has forgotten hear the words: “Be still and know that I am To be prouder still; God.” And I feel peace. | Forgotten that her family, Over the past months, my concept of And mine, miracles has evolved as well. I now under- Is large, stand them as events that allow us to see the And ancient, hand of God in our lives. Every day I’m sure And of royal lineage. that this baby, too, isa miracle. * She is right That he is not my son. He is my brother. Who’s In Control? The Ups and Downs of Fertility (Continued from page 5) in California. But to find a loving, under- Joshua came into our lives. And we truly told Craig because he was still under anesthe- standing, and unassuming environment lifted don’t know what lies ahead. sia. When Craig was finally able to talk, we our burden and made it lighter. I hesitated writing about our miracles. packed him in the car, and I began to drive us We began the adoption process and When I thought I would be unable to have home. The pain of knowing that we would found another maze of tests, forms, and red children, everyone had a story to tell us of be unable to have children was seconded tape, but we finally got our names “on the someone he or she knew who couldn’t have only by my pain of having to tell my husband list.” Six months later, I was “late” again. children and did, who adopted and then the news. I don’t know how we made it We were driving home from church when I finally got pregnant, blah blah blah—as if the home. We were both crying and trying to offhandedly mentioned the fact to my hus- fertility difficulty is really in your head and if deal with this unexpected reality. Although band. His face brightened up, and he said, you would “just calm down” everything we had already begun the paperwork for “Maybe you're pregnant!” I about hit the would be all right. Now I am one of those adoption, we both believed there would be roof. I was so tired of being set up for stories that I hate so much. I was very some other solution. And now there wasn’t. disappointment. He knew that we couldn’t comfortable with the thought of adoption, so We both had felt that we had moved have children. He asked me where my faith I am still unsure why my life took this turn. to Chicago for some spiritual reason, and it was. I told him that I knew the Lord wanted To that point, my life had gone so well that I was about this time that we found out what me to have children; I just wouldn’t birth figured infertility was my challenge from the that reason was. The members of our new them. Our argument continued, with both of Lord. Now I am unsure just why we went ward never asked us about having children. us pushing at each other to believe in some- through all of the pain. I do know that I will It was astounding to us how quickly we felt thing we couldn’t understand. never forget the personal pain of infertility, accepted and loved. Couples would, without Four weeks later, I found out that I nor the judgment placed upon me by un- being asked, tell us about their own adop- was expecting. Our doctors couldn’t believe knowing people, nor the love and support I tions, fertility difficulties, foster care involve- it, and neither could we. On February 27, was given in the end. Not only have I been ment, etc. It became so easy to discuss our 1991, we became the proud parents of Spen- blessed by my boys, but also by the friends own problems and feel as if we were under- cer Beytien—a miracle for which we will be and loved ones who made up for those who stood, loved, and encouraged. And the Balm eternally grateful. We were tested again after called me a sinner for sins that I didn’t of Gilead was applied to our hearts. The his birth and were given the same answer. commit. * contrast was so amazing that we joked about No sperm count; no chance of pregnancy; belonging to a different church. I don’t know take your miracle and run. Six weeks later, I why the judgment seat was so heavy upon us was pregnant again. On May 12, 1992, 6 EXPONENT II + 1994 eee eaeeeeeee ener rere errr —_——$€§ Reflections from a High-risk Mom Susan Wakefield Dal Porto Roselle, Illinois When I first held my I: ANORANGE AFGHAN infant son—and later my IN ITS SEASON daughter, born even later in the season-I had to pinch The family that I was myself to believe that my born into has a maternal legacy— prodigious creativity by skillful, mothering dreams had come true. Often as I fussed over needlework artisans. My little my babies—feeling consider- grandmother with the ever- smiling face was an extraordi- able contentment in my new- nary quilter. As the ladies of her found domesticity—I rejoiced quilting circle grew older, they that the tapestry of my life met once a week to talk and had been already richly laugh and deftly weave their tiny woven. The heady moments stitches into glorious works of and adventures of that tapes- art. Grandma’s gift to each of her try were a nice counterpoint twelve grandchildren was a to the inevitably mundane, completely hand-stitched, full- trying, and self-sacrificing sized bed quilt-fancy applique moments that exist for every for the girls, more masculine parent. patchwork for the boys. From now until the In a small town on long last season of my life, I shall evenings in front of the TV, my cherish that moment in the mother, even before her chestnut recovery room when my brown hair turned to radiant husband said, “Shall I go call white, needed a way to keep her your mother to tell her that energetic hands busy. Her she is a grandma again?” passion was for knitting needles, “Yes. Tell her, it’s crochet hooks, and yarn. She time. Please, tell her it's time became a regular at Irma’s Yarn Shop where baby yarns and picked a bright orange-hot- to send the orange afghan.” she thrilled to see the various textures of pink combination, an almost psychedelic worsteds, mohairs, and rug yarns. After she shade. II: MICHAEL’S STORY had turned our house into a breathtaking Much to my annoyance, Mom textile gallery by crocheting an afghan or two whipped the afghan up in no time. It lay ina Being pregnant for the first time at for every bed and couch, she focused her cedar chest for almost two decades. As the age thirty-seven was hell. My mother’s attention on me. years passed and relationships that could pregnancies had been so traumatic and I was the oldest child, then twenty- have brought children into my life didn’t accompanied by such intense nausea that I something, finished with college and gradu- work out, I began to resent that afghan. In can remember her walking around with a ate school. All of my closest friends had the first decade of its existence, whenever we Dixie cup so that she would not have to make already married; most were already mothers. had an occasion to open my cedar chest (a endless trips to the bathroom. Unfortunately, I had chosen a “road less traveled,” at least high school graduation present), we were I followed in her footsteps. By the fourth for the town and the time where I grew up, greeted with a blaze of orange and pink, a month of the pregnancy, I had deteriorating setting my heart on an education, lots of poignant reminder of yet unfulfilled dreams. fibroid tumors that caused so much pain that travel to exotic places, and a career. But “Tl never use that thing,” I once said I could not walk—I was literally doubled over. having experienced these things, I welcomed bitterly, fighting back the tears. “Why did I lost fifteen pounds and had to be hospital- the prospect of marriage and children. you make it?” My much younger brother and ized for a week for acute dehydration and Once in early spring, my mother— sister had long since moved my mother into aggravated nausea. I had amniocentesis, and aware of my desires, with her own heart the category of grandmother, but my plans my doctor found that the amniotic fluid was hungry for grandchildren—announced plans to hadn’t met with a lot of success. I had extremely low—a cause for great alarm. On make me a baby afghan. I dismissed the doubts about that afghan. Mom, however, the way home from the procedure, I dis- notion as ridiculous, at first, because in spite never lost faith that it would eventually come charged over a pint of watery fluid and had to of my domestic dreams, I had just made an to the purpose for which it was created. tush back to the emergency room to see if my important career move, was committed to my In the second decade of the afghan’s water bag had broken. work, and didn’t seem to be meeting any life, Ia voided mentioning it or looking at it. By the sixth month, the pregnancy ready-to-settle-down men. I got busy and happy with my life and almost had settled down. One day, I left my office But Mom’s mind was made up. She forgot about it. in mid-afternoon to go to the hospital for a kept after me until we made a trip to Irma’s When marriage finally came and I routine ultrasound. I left my secretary typing shop. Mom lovingly caressed the soft, fluffy found myself pregnant for the first time in the first draft of a marketing plan and told her pastel yarns meant for little newborns and my late thirties, the spring of my life was I’d be back in about an hour and a half. urged me to choose from among the hues: gone. I had moved, almost imperceptibly, After the ultrasound, I noticed I was mint green, baby-duck yellow, cloud-gentle somewhere into summer or autumn. But I spotting. I called my doctor who had me pink or blue. I decided, as I always had, on a found it the best possible season for me to come to his office immediately. A quick less conventional choice. I walked past the come to motherhood. (Continued on page 8) VOLUME 18 * NUMBER 2 7 ee es Reflections from a High-risk Mom (Continued from page 7) highest level of pressure possible into his equipment necessary to sustain his life the exam revealed that I was leaking amniotic lungs to breathe for him. He weighed four first year. fluid this time, and he ordered me right back pounds, was seventeen inches long, and was What created such a miracle of a little to the hospital. a perfectly formed, beautiful, little boy. His boy? A combination of faith, prayers, and Once there, I was rushed into labor comparatively large size would help him medical technology. Rick is Catholic, so and delivery where I was hooked up to a fetal fight for his life. there were many candles, mass cards, and St. monitor and an IV, which dispensed drugs to I wept. The nurse said, “Go ahead Christopher medals exercised on Michael’s stop the contractions that I could not feel but and hold his hand. He needs you to touch behalf. My Mormon support system kept that were coming three minutes apart. When him.” He didn’t even seem real at that prayer rolls in temples and knees busy, too. the senior medical resident came to take my moment, more like a medical experiment. As to medical technology, there are already history, she said, “You are going to have this The first full day, I spent several better ways of helping babies with respiratory baby tonight.” I was thirty-one weeks preg- hours with him, talking to him and holding distress survive than using a ventilator, but if nant. his tiny hand. I was already overwhelmed Michael had been born even a decade before My husband, Rick, arrived, and we with love for this beautiful, precious, criti- he was, the technology that saved him would listened with shock and disbelief to the cally sick baby. not have been in place. prognosis for this early delivery. Rick stayed Michael had his own nurse. I met the for most of the evening, but my contractions morning nurse, and then the shift changed stopped, so he went home. I spent seven and the evening nurse, who had been there WHAT CREATED more days in the hospital without another the night before, came in. Rick and I were contraction. there together on that second night when she SUCH A MIRACLE My doctor came to discharge me. It told us, “If you want to get this baby baptized OF A LITTLE BOY? was Memorial Day, 1987. I went home and in case he doesn’t survive, you’d better call went straight to bed. A week lying around your clergy quickly.” A COMBINATION OF the hospital can be exhausting! The next On the third day, Dr. Chisholm, FAITH, PRAYERS, morning, while I was in the shower, severe Michael’s neonatalogist, came to give me the cramps set in and within an hour I was in beginning of the day report. He didn’t mince AND MEDICAL hard labor. words. “We almost lost your baby last TECHNOLOGY. Our little Michael arrived at 4:17 night,” he said. I felt like someone had taken P.M. on May 26. His due date was August 5. the life out of me. An emergency team had A senior resident from the Newborn Inten- been assembled in the middle of the night to sive Care Unit (NICU) scooped him from the resuscitate our 48-hours-old son whose heart foot of the delivery table and ran down the and lungs were failing. I listened with a Michael is now a healthy, happy six- hall with him. Six hours later, we were contained hysteria as he described the night’s year-old enrolled in kindergarten. He has allowed to go in the NICU to get our first events. After he left, I called Rick and had three surgeries and over four years of glimpse of our son. Outside the door, we had completely fell apart. occupational and physical therapy to heip to do a complete surgical scrub and don Michael still holds the record for one overcome neurological difficulties and sterile surgical gowns—a procedure that we of the highest levels of ventilator-assisted significant gaps in motor skill development. would repeat hundreds of times in the weeks oxygen ever administered in that NICU. We However, he is very gifted in verbal and ahead. learned that babies who have to have that cognitive skills and presently to an untrained much oxygen to breathe are at risk for blind- or casual observer, he seems a perfectly ness, hearing loss, or brain hemorrhaging, “normal” child. If you didn’t know, you WE LISTENED WITH which may result in physical and mental would never guess that he had a dramatic SHOCK AND DISBE- handicaps. Michael, through the grace of medical history. God, escaped all those high-stakes side And he has been joined by a little LIEF TO THE PROGNO- effects. sister, Kellie, who was also born early—at SIS FOR THIS EARLY We made twice-daily trips to the thirty-five weeks. Premature infant girls are NICU just to watch our sick baby or to stroke generally stronger. Kellie spent her first two DELIVERY. his little head. Rick, who loves baseball, weeks in the hospital, but she was breathing would often sit next to Michael’s incubator, on her own from her first minutes of life and hold his baby’s hand, and through a window, had no other complications. Michael was stretched out on his back watch a Cubs game on a ceiling-mounted The road to beginning Michael’s life on a flat cart—he was too critical for an television in the family lounge outside the hasn’t been an easy one. But we wouldn’t incubator; the cart allowed quick and easy NICU. “We’re watching our first Cubs trade one minute of the joy that he has access to emergency procedures. Around the games together, son,” I would hear him brought to our life for an easier course. * cart was a massive bank of lights to maintain whisper to Michael. his body temperature and a vast array of We held Michael in our arms for the monitors, machines blinking, beeping, and first time in mid-June, and even then he was seemingly connecting our very sick little boy so critical that he could not be held again for to life. There were wires and tubes attached another month. He came home from the to almost every spot on his body. Michael’s hospital on September 4 after 107 days in the lungs were so immature that he had no ability NICU. It was the day of greatest rejoicing I to breathe on his own. A ventilator was have ever known. His nursery was decorated pushing 100 percent pure oxygen at the in pastel dinosaurs and a host of medical 8 EXPONENTI I * 1994 Thoughts of Thanksgiving While Stuffing my Twenty-sixth Turkey Dawn Thurston Villa Park, California ver the years, I’ve come to value only six of them, four women and two teen- sides of my family. My mother-in-law QO the early hours on Thanksgiving age girls. Nineteen women had been buried taught me how to make orange rolls as her morning when, with the sun barely in the frozen earth that first winter in Ply- mother made them, now a Thanksgiving up, I play out a uniquely American ritual mouth colony. staple in our home. The ingredients in my performed by millions of women before me. How it must have taxed the strength turkey stuffing, even its very consistency, I reach high into the pantry for the of those six women to do the cooking for the come from my mother’s kitchen. The over-sized stainless steel bow] reserved for fifty settlers and their ninety guests who blending of the two family traditions com- this special occasion. Into the bowl tumble gathered to feast and make merry on that pels me to bake two kinds of pumpkin pie, sage-seasoned bread crumbs and my historic occasion. Imagine plucking feathers chiffon and custard—or “air pie” and “‘solid family’s combination of butter, chicken and skinning hide from fresh-slaughtered state,” terms my brother-in-law adopted as broth, pecans, apples, and crisp chopped animals or cooking with open fires, crude appropmiate labels. vegetables. Then it’s stuff, truss, and into tools, sparse provisions. The mind spins and The gathering of loved ones, the the oven. After twenty-six years, I’ve dulls over because there’s no meaningful way traditional family dishes, the females fuss- achieved the worry-free confidence that of relating to it all. ing over this and that-they all create comes with experience. My mind is free to Could that first Thanksgiving have Thanksgiving as we know it, and love it. happily consider other such occasions as happened without these women? Probably Yet, despite all these treasured this. not. For that matter, could Thanksgiving traditions, I’ve come to see that it was the I think of the first Thanksgiving exist as we know it today without the caring Pilgrims who really knew how to do turkey I ever cooked. I was in my early and sharing and carrying on of tradition by Thanksgiving. Through all the deprivation | twenties, living in Boston with my husband, countless women since that Plymouth gather- and suffering, they got it right the first time. | a first-year law student at Harvard. Our ing? Again, probably not. For them, Thanksgiving was more family lived in far-off California, and so we It was a woman, after all, magazine than a meal; it was an attitude. An attitude combined with other orphaned student editor Sara Josepha Hales, who prodded of gratitude for food and survival, for a married couples to celebrate Thanksgiving, Abraham Lincoln into an 1863 proclamation chance at a new life. For the simple bless- New England Style. declaring Thanksgiving a national holiday. ings of everyday life, and God’s hand in it The women’s movement hadn’t I have only to consider the variety of all—a sure-fire recipe for happiness, even in touched the sensibilities of any of us yet, so dishes my family has come to expect on our today’s world. What a tradition to pass cooking duties were parceled out among the Thanksgiving table to recognize the commin- down. wives while the guys bonded macho-style in gling of traditions and culinary magic of After twenty-six Thanksgiving sync with that year’s televised football mothers, grandmothers, and aunts on both turkeys, I’m still learning. * games. Preparing the turkey fell to me. Let’s put it this way—I was no Martha Stewart. Facing that big bird for this first time nearly gave me the hives. However, if memory serves me well, I think that it turned out fairly well in the end—golden _ skinned, the stuffing not too bad. (My husband can’t verify this because it was so long ago, he says, but I’d bet a ton of money that he can recall the score of the big game _ between Harvard and Yale that day!) Actually, as I prepare my twenty- sixth Thanksgiving turkey, I realize that little has changed. The rhythms of the task _ Temain pretty much the same, except that now I “process” rather than “chop” most of my stuffing ingredients, thanks to modern- day culinary innovations. As I consider the Cuisinart, micro- wave, refrigerator, and even the luxury of supermarkets at my disposal, I ponder how different Thanksgiving preparations must have been for our Pilgrim foremothers. | Foremother-is that a word in the dictionary? We speak of forefathers after all. I feel a special kinship with these hardy ladies who started it all. There were VOLUME 18 * NUMBER 2 IIE @UR FHEARTFELT THANKS Nanette Allen Sheryl Allen Susan Allen Lou H. Allred Mae Belle Carter Marjorie Fisher Rayma Allred Yvonne W. Cassity Ann B. Fletcher Maurene Alserda Monique Childs Nell Folkman Betty Andersen Linda and Kurt Christensen Phyllis Ford Betty L. Anderson Nancy Christensen Elene B. Freestone Lavina Fielding Anderson Julia Christiansen Jan Fritz Emy Andrew Anne J. Clark Cheryl D. Fuller Mary Jo Anhalt Barbara Clark Doreen Ganier Cynthia and Kim Arnold Lora Thompson Clark Valerie Gardner Leonard J. Arrington Sue Campbell Clark Jane Geller Gail E. Arthur Cherie Clawson Carolyn Gibby Lynda Avery Elizabeth Clawson Roberta J. Giesea Patricia Avig Carol C. Coombs Elizabeth C. Glenn Elinor Peace Bailey Shari Crall Sandra L. Goldrup Mabel C. Baker Kathy Crape Marian Gray Sally Barkdull Barbara Crawford Joan Groesbeck lrene M. Bates C. Bill Craxton, Jr. Kay Hall Barbara Baurer Dolly Crossley Elizabeth H. Hammond Nancy F. Behrens Judith Curtis Lorrie Hammond Mar Bellamy Louise Dalton Beverly B. Hansen Susan Bennion Betty Damron Nicola S. Hansen Kristy Benton June M. Darby Mrs. C. D. Harris J. Bergeson Jane Darger RaDene Hatfield Gertrude N. Black Jennifer Darger JoAnne Cutler Hay Jerrilyn Black Elaine Facer Davis Kay Healey Joyce Blacker Alison Davis-Blake Wilma S. Hein Kristina Blanchard Darrow F. Dawson Alice B. Hemming Marie Blanchard Linda C. deAzevedo Lois B. Hill Loulie M. Bluhm Anne Cullimore Decker Mary Hill Pamela Bookstaber Karen Gardner Dee Marlene Hill-Clayton Calene Borup Ganie DeHart Margaret Hillyard-Lazenby Annette Paxman Bowen Cathie Derbidge Maxine Hilton Pamela Boyack Lula DeValve Lottie M. Hobbs Mary L. Bradford William E. Dibble Verda Hochstrassen Beth J. Bradshaw Virginia Dillon Connie C. Holbrook L. Brake Gay W. Doman Lori Homer Pandora and Mark Brewer Robert W. Donigan Beverly |. Hoppe Grace and Charles Brown Danielle Beazer Dubrasky Lynne Hoppes Kathryn W. Brown Carolyn Dupuis Joyce P. Houghton Marcelle Brown Marlene Dyer Virginia G. Huber Anne Bryan Sandy Eckersley Gretchen M. Hudson Catherine P. Bryon Dorice Elliott Dixie S. Huefner Sueann and Steve Bullock Sally Ellison Mary Anne Hunter Stacy Burton Sally Emery Richard W. James Richard Bushman, Jr. Amy Engar Marcene Camp Jardine Judy Busk Charlotte H. England Evelyn Jeffries Carolyn Caci Layle Erickson Carla Jensen Frances Callister Tanda Estes Deedee Jenson Ronda Callister Terry Evanson Christy Johansen Beverly C. Johnson Hazel S. Cannon Marilyn Eyer Linda Bentley Johnson Kathleen Cannon Marna Eyring Marylou Johnson Teddy Carey Patricia H. Falk Gladys C. Farmer Patricia Johnson Linda Carlson Mrs. Paul G. Fillmore Betty Jones Renee Carlson Diane Fish Fredone S. Jones 10 EXPONENT II + 1994