Where Are The Dads’ Voices?

If you go to any bookstore, big or small, and visit the parenting section, notice how many books are written by and for women and moms. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course, but it kind of makes you wonder where all the dads are. Where are their voices? Where are their stories?

When I think about the parenting books I read when I was just starting out raising my girls, they were almost exclusively written by women (with the noted exception of Dr. Spock.) They were stories from moms who eagerly shared their experiences about breastfeeding, potty training or navigating the challenges of a child with special needs. Their stories were told with great candor infused with humor, as if they were your best girlfriend sitting in your kitchen.

But what about the dad’s perspective? Why are their voices all but absent from the conversation?

Certainly there was a point in time when it wasn’t considered masculine to be a hands-on dad or to be concerned about how well you were parenting. I’m happy to say things are changing.

A new book will be released this Father’s Day and it’s a beautiful compilation of some of the most heart-warming and heart-wrenching stories you’ll ever hear about parenthood. And they’re all written by dads.

The book is  called, “Dads Behaving Dadly: Real Stories of the New Fatherhood Culture” and is co-authored by author, speaker and life coach, Hogan Hilling, and Al Watts, President of the National At-Home Dads Network. The book is being released by Motivational Press and will feature more than 60 stories by fathers who share some of their most intimate and defining parenting moments.

I had the great pleasure of reading some of these stories in advance of the publication and they really touched my heart. The stories are real and moving and so very powerful. I think it’s incredibly brave for these fathers to be vulnerable in sharing with the world the tender moments they experience with their children.

Parenthood is a scary and uncertain time. You navigate each day as it comes. We like to think if we read all the books, manuals and how-to guidebooks that it will all make sense. But nothing could be further from the truth. What gets us through the day-to-day struggles is the connections we make with other parents. It’s in the sharing of our stories and discovering that we aren’t in this alone.

THAT is what these brave men are doing. They are showing fathers (and mothers) that parenthood is complicated and wonderful and frustrating and exhilarating (sometimes all in the same day), but it’s worth it. 

I love the idea of this book. I was told by the authors that they are still accepting stories. So if you know a father who would be willing to share his story of what fatherhood and being a dad means, please go to Dads Behaving Dadly for more information. You can also read some of the sample stories on their site.

I applaud Mr. Hilling and Mr. Watts for their vision. I can’t wait to read more of the stories.

 

 

 

 

 

Hogan Hilling

Author, Speaker & Life Coach

www.dadsbehavingdadly.com

Twitter @TheDadGuru

3 Reasons Why I Support St. Baldrick’s Foundation

I can’t think of anything worse than childhood cancer. Can you?

Too many people (myself included) complain about stupid, mundane things like the traffic on our daily commute; the snowstorm that hits AFTER the first day of Spring; or the dirty socks that your spouse continues to leave on the floor day after day.

Childhood cancer is extremely humbling. It bitch-slaps you right in the face and makes you realize what’s really important.

There are lots of great (and not so great) organizations out there doing work to raise funds to fight cancer. But I think this one organization is different. If you’re not familiar with the St. Baldrick’s Foundation, maybe you’ll want to check them out. They do wonderful work. Their only goal is to raise funds for grants for childhood cancer research. You can Google them for more info, but the statement on their website that absolutely floored me was this:

“About 60% of all funding for drug development in adult cancers comes from pharmaceutical companies.
For kids? Almost none, because childhood cancer drugs are not profitable.”

That statement turns my stomach. Childhood cancer drugs are not profitable. What’s even more striking is that all types of childhood cancers COMBINED receive only 4% of US federal funding for cancer research. FOUR PERCENT.

It’s worth noting here that St. Baldrick’s Foundation spends more than 3/4 of the money raised on funding research grants (79.5%). The remaining 20.5% is spent on fundraising and administrative costs. That is an impressive ratio.

As their website states, yes, cancer strikes more adults than children. However, when we’re talking about the allocation of money, the game becomes less equitable. Childhood cancer simply isn’t “profitable” enough. That really makes me angry.

I’m supporting St. Baldrick’s this year. Here are my reasons:

1. Because my money goes to fund childhood cancer research grants. My money is not going to purchase accoutrements like ribbons or balloons (which are all well and good to raise awareness) and it’s certainly not lining the pockets of big wig boards of directors or administrators.

2. Because my husband and I have friends who have lost their children to some form of cancer and it was the most gut-wrenching experience for us as outsiders to observe. I cannot imagine the hell the families went through.

3. Because by some sheer stroke of luck, my son and my two girls are healthy. Thank God.

There’s one more reason I’m supporting St. Baldrick’s. A dear friend of mine has supported them for years. He’s a cancer survivor and I admire his efforts to “go bald” this weekend to raise money for this worthwhile cause. If you want to join me in supporting his efforts, here’s a link to his page.

Don’t Try So Hard

I’ve always loved Amy Grant’s music. And this song features James Taylor – one of my all-time favorite singer songwriters. I love the message of this song – “Don’t Try So Hard.” A good message for all of us who put a little too much pressure on ourselves. Good stuff…

“YOU’RE LOVELY EVEN WITH YOUR SCARS…DON’T TRY SO HARD….”

Interview Project: Open Adoption Bloggers

Each year the Open Adoption Bloggers host an Interview Project online so bloggers can learn a bit more about each other. This is my first year participating in the project and I have to say I got lucky. I was paired with a blogger who goes by “Momo” at her blog, “Momosapien.” She is a beautiful person who writes from her heart – in fact, she’s one of the best writers I know. It’s been a pleasure to get to know her. She and her ex-partner adopted their daughter and, although they are now divorced, they are co-parenting her and raising her in an open adoption with her birthmother. Take a moment to visit her blog – you won’t be disappointed. Thanks to Heather at Open Adoption Bloggers for coordinating this massive effort. And now, my interview with Momo:

Q: It is crystal clear in all of your posts that you love your child with all your heart and that she comes first in your life. Your love for her is undeniable. Divorce is difficult on any family – whether the children are biological or adopted. Since you and your partner have divorced, how have you helped your daughter accept this new reality? And how does the fact that she is adopted affect how you handle this transition? Or does it?

MOMO: I was just commenting to a friend the other day that because our daughter isn’t incredibly aware of relationship dynamics, in a way we had to make it really clear to her that we had been together as a couple (instead of just as her parents) in order to explain to her that we were no longer together. When we were in our romantic partnership, we didn’t use the term married to describe our relationship. But during the transition out of that relationship we decided to use the traditional terms marriage and divorce in order to make the concept clearer and more accessible for her. The entire process of shifting from us being partners/married to us being separate/divorced was gradual and gentle, which was a huge part of helping her accept the new reality. At the time when we first broke up (not words we used with her), the three of us were co-sleeping in one room. The first part of the transition was for me to move into the 2nd bedroom (which had been LB’s bedroom) and for her to take turns sleeping with each of us, depending on whose night it was to be home with her at bedtime. That went on for 9 months until we finally moved out of the two bedroom house we had shared and into the duplex. During this whole process, we talked about how Mama and Momo weren’t married anymore, but we were still her parents and we would always love her. We talked about how now she would have separate time with Mama and Momo, and that she would get to see us both a lot, and that even though our relationship with each other was different, we were still her family.  

Honestly, I can’t quite discern what impact the fact that she is adopted had on her during this process. I know it affected each of us as parents immensely. Neither of us wanted to put her through another devastating rift in her familial life by divorcing after she had already been through not being parented by her birth mom. And yet it really came down to the fact that as parents, in order to take the best care of ourselves so that we could care for our daughter in the most present way, we had to make the choice to divorce. This would not have been such a difficult decision for us to make if our daughter wasn’t adopted, I believe, because of the layering of loss. It seems the only other way that LB being adopted plays into how we handled the transition was in the language we used to talk with her about family diversity. In addition to talking about how some families are created through birth and some through adoption, and some families have two moms or two dads, or only one parent, etc., we added in that some parents are married and some are divorced or were never married. It just added a different texture of complexity to the narrative.

Q: As I read your post “Limits” from January 18, I noticed that like so many working moms, you are incredibly busy! What do you like to do for yourself? What do you love doing so much that it makes you lose track of time? What re-energizes you and replenishes your spirit?

MOMO: Ooh, what a fun question! I am excited to be able to say that currently the thing I love doing so much that it makes me lose track of time is writing. After spending the better part of the last decade regretfully cut off from my writer self, I am in a place of feeling invigorated, connected, and alive again as a writer. I am actively working on a book, with a serious goal of having 40 short pieces written for it before my 40th birthday next April. I currently have 10 pieces…so I’ve a ways to go. 

Other than writing, my favorite thing to do is visit with friends and talk talk talk talk talk. In person is best, but phone or even instant message works for me. I also love to play games of all sorts – card games, word games, dominoes. I just discovered a story-telling game which will likely become a new favorite. While I like to say that reading re-energizes me, I actually find these days that I almost always choose writing over reading. I treasure my time in the evenings either when it isn’t my parenting night, or when it is and my daughter is sound asleep because that is the time I give myself to write and poke around online. Although it often makes me stay up too late, I feel replenished by having this time to correspond with my own inner workings and play with words. 

Q: In one of the OAB roundtables (#32 from December 17, 2011), you talked about that first Christmas holiday with your days-old newborn and the push and pull of emotions you felt knowing her birthmother was having a difficult time. Reading through more recent posts, it seems as though she still is having a tough time. How will you help your daughter navigate her way through a relationship with her birthmother?

MOMO: The best way I see that I can help our daughter navigate her way through a relationship with her birthmother is by making sure that we, as adults, maintain contact successfully. Even though LB is almost 7 years old, the bulk of the responsibility for this relationship with her birthmom continues to fall to myself and Mama Meow. It is up to us to schedule and follow through with visits. It is our job to keep our promises about sending photos and letters according to our agreement. We keep her birthmom as present as we can, given the infrequent contact we have – there are pictures of LB and her birthmom prominently displayed both in the living room and in LB’s room in my house and in Mama Meow’s. We talk about her warmly and often. My guess is that as the responsibility for maintaining this relationship begins to naturally shift to LB, that there will be some rough patches. I want there to be enough connection and trust established between her birthmom, Mama Meow and me that we can help LB weather those storms with grace. As a parent in this open adoption, I will continue to model openness, love, respect and compassion for our daughter in the hopes that she will have the most connected relationship with her birthmom as is possible. 

Q: In your post from June of this year, “Find Your Understanding”, you said: “So now, I find myself in this place of being uncertain, again (always) of how to tell the truth about who I am in a family who taught me to believe that even if I wanted to live out the fantasy my little girl self imagined, it wasn’t possible for me.” If you’re willing, can you share a bit more of this thought? (*Note: I found this post extremely personal and powerful and was a little hesitant to mention it. But Momo was very gracious and willing to share her response below. And for that I thank her!)

MOMO: Thanks for saying that this post contained powerful stuff – it remains one of the most vulnerable things I’ve written publicly. I still sometimes experience what Brene Brown refers to as a vulnerability hangover when I remember that it is posted here. Related to this post and to the dating I’ve been doing over the last year and a half, I had myself a special mission over the Summer, which was to have a conversation with each of my seven siblings (and their partners if they happened to be present too) about the fact that I’m doing some post-divorce dating, and that for the first time in my life I’m dating men. The responses I got ranged from engaged and interested to horribly awkward, which was about what I expected. This was all part of my commitment to myself to tell the truth about who I am, and to begin presenting myself as one consistent, authentic person in as much of my life as possible. The mission was successful in that I did actually chat with each of my siblings. My parents are the final frontier here though. I am not eager to have the conversation with them about dating, and about being involved with men, largely because I anticipate their response involving one or both of the following elements: 1) asking me, “If this is where you were going to end up, why did you put us through everything you did over the last 20 years?”; 2) feeling relief because now I am behaving in an acceptable, heteronormative way. (No, they wouldn’t use that word or know what it means, but I do, and I don’t see myself that way even when I am dating men.) 

I continue to work on entertaining the possibility that I am entitled to and could possibly have any type of relationship I want, including one that includes marriage to a man if that is what I choose. Due to the emotional experiences I detailed in the post you referenced, I run into all sorts of internal roadblocks along that path of acceptance. That, and I haven’t yet found a man to date who is interested in a long-term romantic partnership with me. Did you notice that tiny word ‘yet’ in the previous sentence? There are days when all the hope I can muster gets infused into that three letter word and it is enough to keep me pushing against the shame and sadness, humiliation and hurt I have felt all these years. 

Q: As a parent – and now, a single parent – are you ever tempted to give in to the things more than people to appease her? Do you get pushback from family or friends if you try to reinforce this belief against an onslaught of well-intentioned gifts? What advice would you give to other parents – moms in particular – about how to instill this value to their children?

MOMO: The temptation to give in to things more than people doesn’t happen to me much, but one thing I have noticed is a softening in my approach to LB’s attachment to things. I thought I had written about it here on the blog but couldn’t find it when I searched just now. Basically I realized that part of her attachment to things is related to her struggle with emotional regulation. Sometimes she uses her connection to objects as a way to ground herself or place herself in the emotional context of her world, and I can get behind that. If I had caught it earlier in her life, I might have wanted to try re-framing her question of what I brought her from my trip back to her by asking, “Are you wondering if I thought of you and missed you while I was gone?” Because I think that is a big part of what she really is getting at with her question about what I brought her. I suppose it isn’t technically too late, but we have already firmly established the ritual of her getting something tangible brought back for her from any trip Mama or I take. 

I don’t experience a lot of push-back from family or friends about focusing on people over things. My family wouldn’t necessarily get it or agree with me, in large part, and my friends mostly already agree with me, which is a blessing. 

As for the advice I would give to other parents about how to instill the value of people and relationships over material goods, the main way to do this is to let kids experience what true, real, vital, connected, authentic, vulnerable, magical, amazing relationships feel like. I talk openly with my daughter about how important my friends are to me, how much I love them and what an important part of my life they are. I encourage her to experience this with her own friends. I show her that it matters by living my own life that way, and I hope that it will create the same resonance in her. 

A Favorite Poem

Hope by Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

Make New Friends But Keep The Old

If you were a Girl Scout, you’re probably singing the rest of that lyric.

“One is silver and the other gold…”

In a few days, we’ll be meeting up with some dear friends who live a state away. Our daughters were best friends from age 3 to just last year when they were both 8. It was then that our family moved away and my daughter had to say goodbye to her BFF, Sara. She was heartbroken, but in the year and a half since we’ve been gone, she has adjusted. She’s made new friends and is involved in so many activities it seems as though I’m driving in circles picking her up and dropping her off.

We’re all looking forward to this weekend, but tonight she was worried about something. She said she wasn’t sure Sara would be her “best friend” anymore. Would they still have anything in common? And she felt guilty because she’s made some new best friends here in New Jersey.

I understood what she was saying. I’ve moved quite a bit since I was 20. It’s hard to uproot and move to a different city or state. But as a blogger friend reminded me this week, “we can do hard things.”  So I talked with her and told her it was perfectly OK that she’s made new friends and had new experiences – in fact, it’s wonderful. It’s what she’s supposed to be doing. It’s what life is all about.

I have lots of “silver” friends that I’ve met in the cities where I’ve been lucky enough to live and work. And then I have my “gold” friends. They’re the friends who have laughed and cried with me. The friends who know all my secrets and my faults, but still like me anyway. The people who have always had my back.

I think my daughter used to think that Brownie/Girl Scout song was kind of corny (and it is), but she just realized this evening that Sara is one of her “gold” friends.

A Sign (But You Don’t Believe in Signs)

(Points if you know what movie the title of this blog post is from…it’s my favorite movie of all time.)

This was the fortune I discovered in a cookie following a particularly yummy dinner at PF Chang’s.

I’ve been kicking around the idea of writing a book for years. And I’ve decided it’s finally time. I have pages and pages of notes on my computer, in a notebook, in my head.

Now I just need the space – both physical and mental – to purge.

I’ve decided to just write. To hell with perfection and endlessly obsessing about the perfect time to write, the perfect book title, the perfect layout, the perfect “voice.”

I can’t handle the pressure. So I’m just going to write. Let’s see where that takes me.

Tossing My Dirty Laundry

I’ve been a huge fan of Glennon Doyle Melton for a few years now. Her book and blog “Momastery” (pronounced like monastery) is fabulous. She’s a recovering addict and her story is really fascinating.

She recently gave a Tedx Talk titled “Lessons from the Mental Hospital.” It was inspirational, funny, and real.  What I loved most about it was her super accurate description of how we all answer the question – “How are you?”

Without fail – we all say (and have been taught to say since the beginning of our days) “Fine! How are you?”

Even if we’re not fine, we say it anyway. Why is that?? Isn’t that ridiculous?

She says it’s because we’re all afraid of telling the truth about how we are, what we’re feeling and admitting that maybe we’re not really 100% OK. I would add that our culture – particularly the environment that I grew up in – admonishes any inclination toward truth-telling when it comes to feelings and emotions. I remember being taught from a very early age that “it’s nobody’s business” and to “put on a show” and the most repulsive and humiliating of all “no one needs to see our dirty laundry.”

Talk about shaming.

OK, that said, I’m all for truth-telling, but I’m not for pity parties and people dishing about every last problem and bit of minutiae they’re dealing with. However, when we put on the super-hero cape (her analogy) to protect ourselves from judgment, guilt, shame, etc., we lose a bit of ourselves. We kid ourselves. And we sink deeper into the illusion that we’re OK, when really? We’re not.

Her bottom line is that it’s braver to be Clark Kent than Superman. It’s braver to be real and authentic and a truth-teller, than someone who has to mask true feelings.

I love her message. Part of me is sad that it’s taken me so many years to be OK with this, but it makes me feel good to know that I no longer worry what other people think of me and my story.

Humbled and Overwhelmed

Those are the two emotions I’m feeling right now. And if there’s one thing I’m still learning how to do, it’s to really feel my emotions.

Last week, I came out – in a manner of speaking – about the fact that I had a child at 18 and placed him in an open adoption. It’s now 25 years later and in all honesty I can say it has been the most loving, open and honest experience. But being pregnant during my senior year in high school, and then getting whisked off to the west coast to give birth and hopefully get things “back to normal” left emotional scars. I vigorously pursued my career and achieved nearly every goal I had set for myself, professionally. I dated infrequently mostly out of low self-esteem and quite frankly, in an age where casual sexual partners was the norm, out of fear of getting pregnant again. When I did eventually marry 14 years ago, my husband fully and completely accepted my birthson, his family, and the birthfather’s family as if it was completely normal.

I lived in denial for more than two decades. Oh sure, I knew the truth and my husband knew the truth. But no one outside of my immediate family and a select few close friends knew my secret. The residual stuff left over from years of hiding, of secrets, of shame and of guilt was completely overwhelming at times.

But today I’m feeling overwhelmed in a better way. Through a random encounter on Twitter (note: nothing in life is random), I became part of a TV documentary about motherhood and specifically about adoption. When I realized the promos had started airing on the Oxygen Network, I knew this was my chance to come clean. Now granted, Facebook is many things. But an open forum for an honest dialogue about major life experiences it is not. Still, I’m connected to most of the people in my life on this particular social network. And so, with a bit of trepidation, I posted the following:

I’m nervous and kind of excited to post this.
In 1988, I had a baby.
I wasn’t ready to be a parent, so I placed him in an open adoption.
Now, 25 years later, I can honestly say it’s been the most wonderful, loving and entirely open relationship since day one – and I attribute that to his parents, who have raised him to be an amazing young man! I was very humbled to be asked to participate in a documentary that will appear on the Oxygen Network on June 12 called “The Untold Stories of Motherhood.” Here’s a clip…

http://im-having-their-baby.oxygen.com/motherhood/

I hit send and bam – it was out there. At that point, I didn’t care what anyone thought. For the first time in 25 years, I DIDN’T CARE WHAT ANYONE THOUGHT. Perhaps that’s one of the good things about getting older. At 42 years old, I really don’t give a shit what people think. It took a long time for me to get to this point. The view is good from here.

Now that could very well be the end of this post. Except that it isn’t.

The response I received from friends in high school and my college years was overwhelming. Completely and utterly overwhelming. There was a time when my friends’ opinions really mattered to me, mostly from trying to fit in and be liked and be normal. But now, they mean something different. We all have life experiences that make us wiser and a bit more compassionate. I know I have and I like to think that my empathy for others is greater now than when I was younger. The comments I received from friends and acquaintances was like getting a big cyber-hug. And it felt really good.

There’s something to be said for being vulnerable, for finally letting go. And perhaps, for being brave.

And while I no longer need or seek anyone else’s approval,  it’s really humbling to know that friends and family have my back.

Wonder

Courtesy of The Joyful Mother

This photo popped up on my Facebook page and I just love it.

The last part speaks about belief. What I took from this is that sometimes belief (disguised as religion) clouds our ability to make our own judgments and decisions in life. I’m not opposed to religion, I just approach it suspiciously. And I by no means begrudge those who find comfort in the daily or weekly rituals in attending a particular church.

For me, I find my spirit in nature. In moments with my kids and my husband. In moments of quiet reflection or meditation.

And in learning something new. I absolutely love learning new things. Both my husband and I try to instill a love of learning in our girls. We want them to question and seek and investigate and yes, wonder. Otherwise, what’s the point? Aren’t we here to stretch our minds as much as possible? To learn and experience and color outside the lines whenever we can?