Virtue as the Mean

     About a week ago I found this article in the Washington Post. It is the experience of one woman, a self-described "physician, teacher, and health policy researcher" while having her baby in a hospital. She details the immense pressure she felt to have a high intervention birth and almost a cesarean section despite her wishes to have a low intervention birth. The big take away from the article, at least from my perspective, was the danger lay women face in the delivery room given the adversity this woman of medicine had to confront in her own labor. At one point she mentions consulting with several other M.D.s of various backgrounds in order to advocate for herself and her child. While I thought the article was an insightful and pointed statement about maternity wards, the larger cultural commentary came from the vary first comment that showed below the article itself. I normally avoid the comment section like the plague but happened to catch this one as it was the only comment at the time. I didn't feel like wading back through that trash to get a direct quote, so I will paraphrase. The commentator basically said "Shame on you" to the mother. She was doctor. Apparently she should have known better and advocated for herself more. If she felt pressured it was her own fault for letting herself get into that situation.
    This is not the first time I've heard this argument. It actually comes up quite a bit. Women share their stories of abuse and mistreatment during their births, and they are blamed. It is there fault for not being more prepared, more educated, more anticipatory of the events. It's their fault for relying on doctors. It's their fault for not taking responsibility in their own care. It's their fault, period. I find these arguments confusing for several reasons. One is because there seems to be very few other specialized fields where consumers are expected to have expertise. Most people who go to a mechanic can't build their own engine. Most people who go to a gourmet restaurant can't cook French cuisine. This is also a huge issue of privilege- assuming that someone who is already paying a professional to perform a service also has the time and resources to teach themselves the ins and outs of the field and be independently educated on the topic. Is assuming that someone trained in healthcare and beholden to the hippocratic oath will provide adequate care really that far of a leap?
     But another thing about this idea of "it's your fault for not educating and self-advocating" is that it's bullshit. Because women who do all those things above- who prepare and seek out education and information and participate in their care- aren't treated any better a lot of  the time. They are labeled as pushy. As non-compliant. Demanding. Relying on Dr. Google. Buying into psuedo-science. Believing everything they read on the internet. They are accused of being selfish and even worse, of not valuing their child's life and health. These women have been dropped as patients by their doctors and had CPS and police called on them. They have been dragged into the OR against their will. Laboring women have been put in handcuffs.
    Apparently, there is a delicate balance to be found for a laboring women. She should be educated, but not questioning. Responsible but yielding. She should stick up for herself, but not to the point of stepping on the toes of the almighty gods in white coats. It's not surprising then, that so many women fall short of the virtuous mean. For me personally, I will always recommend erring on the side of education and empowerment. However, I think there is an alternative.

   What if, just for shits and giggles, we entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, the birthing women     aren't the problem?

   What if maternity care in the U.S. is intrinsically flawed?

   What if the entire healthcare system is set up to thrive on profit driven by disease and trauma?

   What if the field of obstetrics was never intended to cater to the masses?

   What if our view of womanhood and motherhood is deeply ingrained in the patriarchy?

   What if profit drives care more than science and research?

   What if convenience is more sought after than health?

   What if we knew that the U.S. funnels more money into maternity care than any other developed         nation but has the absolute worst results?

    Maybe that is where all of  these people should be pointing the blame. But instead we invent these "mommy wars" and blame some women for being too informed and blame others for being too compliant and once again place that ever-tantalizing image of the perfect (birthing) woman on a pedestal for everyone to collectively emulate. All the while, ignoring the real problem of a deeply entrenched system that as it exists now is set up to undermine evidenced-based care. Education and advocacy gives women a fighting chance. It is the kevlar that they wear when they walk into the war-zone of the current maternity care system. But it is not a guarantee that they will come out unscathed, anymore than blindly following someone across the battle field with your eyes shut and fingers crossed. What we need is a collective cease-fire. A real, open and honest peace talk about how we got to the place where battle was a useful metaphor for childbirth. But as long as women are spending all their time and energy attempting to find the balance between advocating for themselves and being polite, no one is addressing the core issues. No one is trying to fix the problem if we are all too busy arguing about how to adapt to it.

 

The Most Challenging Practice

    January each year is a bit of anniversary for me. January is the month I began my journey with my yoga practice. It was supposed to just be a simple "Yay! My last semester of undergrad; I'm going to reward myself with a fun class." And yet here I am five years later, still sweating it out on my mat. That college class ended in May, but I found classes in the community. And then I started attending workshops. And then I completed teacher training and became a registered yoga teacher. I taught my own classes for a year before Perrin came along. In fact, I taught right up until 2 weeks before Perrin was born.

   I have had some hard yoga classes. I have had teachers completely kick my ass. I have left limping and sore and feeling like I was hit by a truck because I rode my edge to my utmost ability and used muscles I didn't know I had. I regularly practiced Ashtanga, which if you are unfamiliar with is a pretty badass (yet completely accessible, not trying to scare anyone) practice. I attended some intense workshops and training. But it wasn't until recently, on the eve of my five year yoga-versary, that I began the hardest practice I have ever attempted.

   Before Perrin (a time frame measure I regularly use nowadays), when I practiced yoga, I practiced yoga. I attended led classes with incredible teachers. When I did my ashtanga practice, I did the full 90 minute primary series. I had a room in our house devoted as my own private shala. I did yoga right. And it felt good. Because that is part of my baggage that I am just now noticing. I have to do things right. Do them completely. Do them at least 100%. Because to not do it perfectly is to not do it at all. Or so my "rules" led me to believe. So you know what happened? I stopped practicing all together. And when I tried, it was only if I could make it to a led class.

   The thing about making it to a led class is  that generally yoga studios have classes at regular times. There is a start time, and a stop time. And it's at a place. That you have to get to by the start time. And when you have a Perrin, it's incredibly difficult. So my practice became more and more sporadic. And I started to put it off and avoid my sad neglected yoga mat because I knew the mat would feel SO GOOD and then I would feel SO BAD because I wasn't giving it (and myself) the time and attention it (and I) deserved.

   But like I mentioned in my last post, I'm starting to really take a look at my "rules" and challenge some of them. And I know, in my head, that some practice really is better than no practice. Even if it's only 15 minutes. Even if it's in our cluttered office surrounded by bunch of junk. On a mat covered in cracker crumbs. While Perrin's voice carries over Jai Uttal's and my cat somehow repeatedly MacGyver's the door open. And so I've committed to getting back into it. To practicing 6 days a week, no matter what each day's practice looks like. And it is the hardest thing I have ever done. It's hard not to judge myself. To say I slacked off or didn't do enough. To lament where I could be if I did more. To resent the fact that I just can't do more right now. It's hard to not do it "right". To not be "perfect". It is so, so fucking hard to accept my present and be at peace in it. So this takes the cake. Not the days of back to back teacher training; not the intense workshops; not demoing bakasana into tripod headstand while 36 weeks pregnant. Doing yoga- practicing real, truthful, compassionate yoga- is the most challenging practice I have ever attempted.

Head Shrinking

    You may have seen in our last Perrin update that Joey and I have begun some new and fairly intense therapy work. I wanted to share a little bit about that as it has been immensely eye opening and beneficial. It all started when Joey decided that maybe we should get divorced. Remember that post about how we talk pretty openly about that kind of thing? Something just wasn't feeling right for either of us, but we didn't know what it was. So we decided to do some couples and individual counseling and then reassess our family situation. Spoiler alert- we figured out that "we" weren't the problem. At least, the together "we". Our relationship in and of itself isn't really the issue. What is the issue is each of our relationships with ourselves. Let me explain-

     We found a fantastic therapist who we see individually and then together as a couple. What she is having us work on is digging down into who we are and why we are that way and what needs to change for us to live healthy functioning lives. We have done some therapy/counseling work in the past, but it mostly centered on tools to deal with our individual quirks and issues. The therapy we are doing now is getting down to the core of who we are. What are thoughts are and where those thoughts come from and how they affect our lives and interactions. This has been the most mind blowing part for me. You don't realize how much of you take for granted when it comes to who you are. You just assume "that's the way things are" or "that's just who I am", when in reality a lot of that is baggage that you have accumulated and learned through out your life. These lessons and experiences overtime shape our thoughts about things, and those thought trigger emotions, and then those emotions affect our behavior and actions. So what we think is a simple X occurs and I do Y, is actually much more layered and nuanced. Something may occur, and that "data" gets filtered through our complex systems of thoughts and emotions and when it is played out in our behavior may not look at all related to the original stimulus. Because a lot of the times it's not. 

    Here is an example- I had been wanting to get the garage door fixed for a while. It's been broken for about a year and it's a pain in the ass to drag our bikes and things through the house instead of just opening the garage door. At some point I asked Joey about getting it fixed and he kind of just didn't really say much. He didn't say yes. Well this came up in our couples therapy as Joey suggested spending money on something and I was upset because I would rather have spent the money getting the garage door fixed. Our counselor asked Joey why we couldn't fix the garage and his response was "I don't know; I guess I just never thought about it." So she asked me, had I told him that I wanted it fixed? I told her about the time I asked and that I never really got a response. So her question to me was, why didn't I ask or bring it up again? Maybe Joey just didn't realize it mattered since I only mentioned it the one time. This was a huge learning moment for me. My reaction- "But I asked and didn't get my answer, so it's over. That was the end of the conversation about the garage." See, I didn't realize until that conversation that I have some sort of "rule" in my head that you can only ask for things once. The answer you get is the answer you get and that is that. To ask again is rude and disrespectful and nagging and annoying.  So I was feeling bummed about the garage because Joey didn't understand that it was important to me (which "made" me feel unimportant) and I felt like I was powerless to do anything about it because I used up my one asking time and that was that. So I felt sad and frustrated and angry all because of this completely imaginary and arbitrary rule that I picked up from somewhere. But in reality (objective reality, not the reality in my head), Joey was perfectly fine getting the garage fixed once he understood that I cared a lot about it. We even decided to go ahead with the skylight I had been talking about, too. 

    The lessons get even more nuanced and layered than the above example, but you can see how these "rules" and thought and emotions we have cloud our relationships with others and ourselves. Another big part of it is esteem. Learning to have true self-esteem. That you are worthwhile and valuable simply because you exist. That was mind blowing for me as well. So I am working really hard on learning how to voice my thoughts and advocate for myself, and to stop censoring myself for the perceived comfort for others. That is the other big lesson for me so far- I am not responsible for other people's feelings. And other people are not responsible for mine. I don't have to "let" others "make" me feel bad. That is their own issues about their own thoughts and emotions and realities and doesn't have anything to do with me. And I don't have to worry about "making" other people feel bad. I am learning to have a healthy emotional boundary where my reality is protected from other people and is also free to be expressed. 

    Anyway, maybe all of this seems really obvious to you. But even really simple things- like asking for something more than once- never ever occurred to me. Because my reality was built where those things weren't options. So now I am learning to be more aware of my thoughts and emotions so that I can examine the validity of them and decide whether or not I should hold onto to those ideas or whether they are just baggage that I need to discard. If you are interested more in the things we are learning about, feel free to chat with me about it. We have been reading through a books and listening to workshops by Pia Mellody, who does a lot of work on codependence, which is essentially the issues that I talked about above as well as many other common problems. Basically it's learning to how to take of yourself as a functioning adult- recognizing your wants and needs and getting them met with the help of others. It's very interesting stuff and I'm amazed by how much I notice these mechanisms at work around me now. It's also been incredibly valuable for parenting purposes. It really helps you be aware of what "rules" you are instilling in your children. 

Cheers!

Perrin 1.5

Smunchie Face is now 18 months old. 18 whole months since he came earth side. This feels like the last milestone before we just start sticking to years. A lot has happened in the last 6 months. I have started working part time. We started using a babysitter occasionally. Joey and I have started a new and exciting journey of growth through some intensive therapy. So what is 18 month old Perrin like? Well….

He is very communicative, though he is still not incredibly verbal. He has several words, but his annunciation is so that a person on the street probably wouldn’t recognize any of them. However, he also signs a lot.

Among his verbal words are: llama, giraffe, turtle, puppy dog, kitty cat, fishy, yum, snack, other side, no, um-hmm, please, cheese, night night, bye, high five, Mama, Daddy, Granddaddy, Mimi, Gigi, Diggle, chicken, duck, cow, rhino, dinosaur, teeth, eyes, nose, toes, owl.

He signs: More, please, thank you, elephant, bird, duck, chicken, frog, pig, cat, hot, giraffe, sad, help, hurt, outside, all done, plane, hard, potty, happy.

Speaking of potty- this kid is freaking teaching himself all about the potty. Potty learning was not even near being on my radar. We have done very relaxed/part time style elimination communication since he was about 8 months old. He has known what the potty is and what it’s for and used it off and on since then. But lately he will tell me before he pees and ask to use the potty. In the past week there has been a couple days when his diapers were mostly dry for the day. It seems surreal that diaper laundry might soon be in our (well, Joey’s) past.

He still nurses like a champ. Some days less than others, but he loves his milkies. And yes, he still nurses at night. But luckily he is also still in our bed with us, so I remain pretty oblivious to most of his night time snacking. I feel like 6 months to about 14 months was a really good stride for nursing. We had figured things out for the most part and it felt easy and was relaxed. It’s still easy, but now we are navigating toddlerisms like setting personal boundaries and using respectful manners (i.e. “milk please” or “other side” instead of “AAAAHAHHHHHHHH!!!!” and clawing at my shirt). Also, as his mouth changes and he slowly (oh so slowly…) gets more teeth, his latch goes through stages of being fairly uncomfortable.

So. Many. Feels. Huge, terrifying explosive feelings trapped inside a tiny toddler body. Oh my goodness. But he’s learning to recognize them in himself and others and can identify happy and sad.

Favorites:

Book: Nose and Toes, Animals Everywhere, Farm Book

Music: Shake it Off, the new Foo Fighters, Godsmack, the princess potty at Target

Animal: Llamas, otters, and rhinos.

Toy: Blocks, train, puzzles, balls

Activity: Swinging, anything with water, reading books, throwing stuff

Food: Cheese, apples, green beans, broccoli, yogurt, mandarin oranges, bananas.

Dislikes: the carseat, being stung by bees, fake Cheerios

Stats:

Height: About 35 inches

Weight: 28 lbs. even

Eyes: Bright blue

Hair: White blonde

Teeth: 8 (all the incisors)

Shoe size: 7

Clothing size: 2T

Other fun tidbits- Perrin has started to do some imaginative play. He will feed his toys and make smacking sounds. He likes to help me cook and has gotten really good at cutting veggies and mushrooms with a butter knife. He also loves getting his nails trimmed and painted. I swear it’s the only time this kid will sit still. He can climb the ladders on the playground all by himself and now he sits on the big kid swing, too. He can almost jump, but doesn’t quite get both feet of the ground. He is really, really into high-fives. Like, we have to high-five all the mannequins we walk by in a store. He’s a pretty cool kid. 

The D

No, not that D. This is a post about divorce. Before you freak out and call me (Mom....), no, Joey and I aren't getting a divorce. This is a post about divorce as an institution, nothing personal. Speaking of not taking things personally, a quick disclaimer:

   I almost didn't write this because I'm sure someone out there in the world will take it the wrong way. I hate offending people and I hate the possibility that somewhere out there in the universe someone is mad at me. But what I hate more is feeling like I have no voice- that I'm constantly silencing myself for other's convenience. So in an act of self-care and therapeutic catharsis, I'm going to speak my truth. You (that is, those "you"s who feel the need to act as if everyone is living AT you) need to either kindly get the fuck over yourself or skip this post. Me sharing my thoughts and experience does not equal me judging people with different thoughts or experiences. Disagree with every word in this post? Cool. That's why we are two different people. There is no need to explain to me why my experience does not apply to you or in what situations it would be completely different or the importance of another perspective. This is my perspective; that's it. I'm not giving relationship advice or claiming to have any sort of answers. So onto the actual post...

   Even though I'm not giving advice or anything, I feel like I should be upfront about my personal experiences with divorce. My parents divorced when I was a year old and I myself have been divorced. My first marriage lasted a whopping 18 months. So if you want to get psychoanalytical about things and dissect the rest of this post with that in mind, go for it. I'm not pretending that these past experiences don't have any affect on my thoughts and beliefs about the subject.

 So why I am writing about divorce anyway? It's honestly pretty random. I see a variety of Facebook memes about all sorts of things and that includes divorce. I have seen a few along the lines of "Back in the day.." or "For my grandparents" attesting to how much more wonderful the institution of marriage was before divorce became more prevalent. I also see a lot of memes along the lines of "We don't throw away something broken, we fix it" and "First marriage is the only marriage". So these two types of sentiments, which I will address separately, get me thinking sometimes. Joey and I have discussed them and seem to be in agreement about the ideas in general and our own thoughts on divorce. So I'll start by addressing the two specific things I mentioned, and then also more general ideas.

"Back in the Day"
     Ok, so yeah, there used to be less divorce. But that doesn't mean that divorce is inherently bad AND more importantly, that doesn't mean marriages were necessarily better. There were women who were stuck in horribly abusive relationships, children stuck in abusive or otherwise unhealthy families, and families of people who were absolutely miserable. Are there people who overuse divorce or don't take marriage seriously? Well yeah, but why do you care? My thoughts on divorce are similar to those on abortion- if you don't like it, don't get one.

"Don't give up, just fix it!"
   I am by no means advocating that you not put time and effort into marriage. It is super hard sometimes and that means putting in 110% and pushing the boulder up hill and all those other metaphors. I get that. But you know how on Hoarders, half of the house is full of broken junk and every time the host is like "Hey, how about you throw out this broken thing?" the Hoarder always responds with "But I can fix it!!!!!"....? Yeah, my feelings are kind of like that. Sure, you can hypothetically fix whatever. You can painstakingly super glue a shattered windshield back together piece by piece if you really want to. Or melt it down and reform it, even. The point is- we all know damn well that Hoarder isn't going to fix shit. Having the potential to fix something doesn't mean it's going to get fixed and there is a good chance you could just spend your entire life lugging around broken trash. I think some people can legitimately recognize when they are delaying the inevitable and just need to let something go. And I don't think that is a bad thing.

   So another general thing that I have noticed is the fact that divorce is still very much a taboo. Liz Taylor and other celebrities aside, we still have a lot of socio-cultural baggage surrounding divorce. This really hits home for me in the number of relationship help columns, books, and articles (as well as some personal accounts) that state simply uttering the word 'divorce' is bad for a marriage. The "it can never be taken back" superstition around the word divorce is slightly confusing to me. I mean, I get that for some people (for either religious of philosophical reasons), they don't consider divorce an option. But if leaving isn't an option, then staying isn't either.

  Which brings me to Joey and I's general agreement about divorce and it's place in our marriage (interesting concept, huh?). We most certainly want divorce to be an option. We want it to have a place in our discussions about our relationship and our family. We recognize that for some people, having separate parents creates a healthier overall family. And we acknowledge that we don't want the other person to be miserable. Neither of us hold any particular religious or philosophical beliefs that would preclude divorce. Finally, we want to know that if we are in this, if we are still together, it is because we absolutely without a shadow of a doubt want to be. Not because we feel guilty about leaving or because we are scared of what people will say. So we talk about divorce a lot. When we are having rough spots in our marriage (which is a lot now that Perrin is here), we talk about it. Do you think it would be better if we had time apart? Do we need space? Are we at the end of this road? Do we need to rethink our family and relationship? And so far, the answers have been decidedly, No. We like where we are at. It is hard. It sucks sometimes. But we still both want to be here. But if one of us ever answers yes, it will be in a safe place. Because there is an understanding that we are both open and committed to whatever family arrangement is best for all three of us. And sometimes that includes divorce. And that can be okay. And that we are willing to sacrifice our marriage for our family and our relationship. I am thankful for that.

  So when I see some of those memes with those cute little quips about divorce and the sanctity of marriage, I smile- because I know that divorce has a place in our marriage. And I know that that statement probably horrifies some people. But for Joey and I, it brings us comfort. Because we want to be stuck together. And we want to want it.

Boxes and Babies Don't Mix

   Perrin and I are big fans of the public library story times around town. We go pretty regularly. There is this one song they sing where they give all the kids little musical shakers to shake along during the chorus. It's annoying and gets stuck in your head for days, but they kids love it. And then when the song is over, all the kids go and put their shakers back in the box. At least, you hope they do. The story time lady always says it's okay if they hang onto it, but all the parents secretly hope that their kid will politely follow directions and put the shaker back in the box. Now, this is technically 18 month- 4 year story time, so Perrin is a little young. The other kids have an advantage when it comes to direction following and general compliance. But he's generally good at imitating, so when all the other kids go up to the front to put their shakers in the box, he will usually follow along. So the other day after the shaker song, Perrin follows the herd of toddlers up to the box and drops his shaker in. I'm clapping and cheering for him from the back of the room because I am totally "that" mom. But as everyone is returning to their spots on the floor, Perrin nonchalantly picks up the entire box of shakers that everyone just spent 10 minutes cheering and clapping and mind-medling their toddlers into giving up and dumps that shit out on the floor.


   And then I realized this is a metaphor. The above did happen, but it symbolized a lot more to me than my 15 month old's love for noisy toys. Babies don't get boxes. They just don't. They don't understand the adult compulsion to contain and compartmentalize. Just spent 3 hours separating the train tracks from the building blocks? Fuck it. Alphabet blocks all up in your Brio set! Alphabetized the story books? Bahahaha.....

   And it's not just the children as individuals- childhood, and therefore parenthood do not respect boxes and boundaries either. So why do we see so many things trying to force us into these narrow contraptions? Articles on how to balance work and home. Being a wife and being a mother. Taking care of the home and taking care of the children. Heck, taking care of the children and taking care of ourselves. Alone time versus family time. None of these things are concrete ideas or categories. You can't just chip off a piece of yourself and put it in a box with a nice neat label. They aren't discrete receptacles of our being that we have to measure and calibrate. A little more here does not necessarily mean a little less there.  It's all part of life, and life is messy. Life is especially messy with children. That's just how it goes. Let's pretend all of your roles and priorities and interests are different colors. From the sound of a lot of the self-help articles floating around out there, your goal is to arrange your life into a beautiful rainbow. Fucking Roy G. Biv. Neat and orderly and sensible. But that's not how it works. Because real life in throwing all of those colors into a blender and accidentally flipping the switch before you put a lid on it. Brown. Life is brown. Beautiful, glorious, unpredictable, brown that everyone else thinks is gross and kind of looks like poop (and let's face it, there's a chance it's poop), but that you love and appreciate just as much as your toddler the first time they figured out they can mash all the Play Dough colors together. But you know what colors you mashed in there. You can appreciate the flecks of purple and red and indigo that are floating around in your brown messy life.

   For a while I felt bad because my week wasn't scheduled. There weren't distinct hours of me time or family time or couples time. My roles in my life weren't distinct and wife Rox bled into Mommy Rox and Daughter Rox and Chicken keeper Rox. I didn't always have a plan and there aren't enough lists and spreadsheets in the world to make me feel like I actually know what the hell I'm doing at any given moment. But that's ok. Forest, people. Look for the forest. And forests would be much more ugly and much less magical if all the trees were arranged by height and species. This is why parenthood is simultaneously beautiful and terrifying- because the messy, blended, scattered kaleidoscope of your life just wouldn't be the same sorted out tucked away into a pretty box on the shelf. And that's hard, especially for people like me who hold on to patterns and order. But that's why the universe gave me Perrin- to dump out all my boxes.

Stop Marathoning At Me

    You know who you are. You who post pictures of yourself in your running shorts with your gold medal and the little paper number pinned to your shirt. So what? You ran a marathon! You don't have to be so judgmental about it. Just because I never ran a marathon doesn't make me a bad person , you know. I could have run a marathon if I had wanted to, but I didn't want to. I actually had a friend who wanted to run a marathon, but she would have DIED had the doctors not told her she couldn't run a marathon! Have you thought about that? Or what about all the people in the world who can't run marathons? Some people don't have legs! You should really think about these things before bragging to everyone and showing off your stupid medal. Who cares if you worked really hard for it. Who cares if it is something that means a lot to you. Who cares if it was the coolest moment in your life. Obviously the only reason you are posting your finish line pictures is to make all of us non-runners feel like shitty horrible human beings. Maybe that's why you run in the first place! It's all just some grand ploy to show everyone else that you're better than them. It has nothing to do with your health or enjoyment or the fact that it means something to you on a personal level. It's all about making ME feel bad.

      Because really, everything is about ME. My insecurities and apprehensions and regrets and guilt. And instead of accepting my truth and finding pride in my own situation (I actually made it to yoga class this week! I am badass!) I would rather lash out at you for being different. In fact, I'm going to accuse you of being judgmental while I assign arbitrary intention to your actions and words and then judge you on it. Because I'm scared to lift you up, because I'm not comfortable enough with my position in the world. So I'd rather tear you down.

    See what you made me do? You and your stupid marathon running turned me into a petty angry person. Obviously you are the problem here. The only possible solution is for you to stop being so fulfilled by your marathon experience. Or at the very least, pretend like you aren't. Stop talking about endorphins and runner's highs. From now on, just tell people about the shin splints and chaffing and all the horrible stuff. That way those of us who don't run can sit back and say "See!? Why would anyone want to run a marathon? That is so dumb. Obviously they are just doing it for attention." And the next generation of people can continue this cycle and never ever have meaningful conversations about all the different exercise options and how to find what is right for you and honor other people's journeys. Instead, we can all just sit back and hate on you for your running all those marathons at us.

*In case the metaphor escaped you, just go back and reread replacing "marathon" and "running" with "natural birth" or "breastfeeding". There ya go. *