Wednesday, March 5, 2014:

Trigger: Thank God He's Mine

Normally I write silly posts about the chaos that is parenthood.  Love my kids, love the crazy, and love the mom-com that comes out of our daily day-to-day.

That being said, I wanted to take a serious moment to acknowledge a charity that I have absolutely no involvement in whatsoever (why, bc I have a 2.5 yo and 9mo and no "me time"...I digress).

I stumbled upon this charity shortly after my first was born and I think about this charity often.  Here's why I care so much...

Project Prevention is an organization that offers money to addicts in return for voluntary & temporary sterilization.

Whoa.  

Let that soak in.

Yes.  This charity gives cash to addicts (presumably for the purchase of drugs) if they agree to temporary sterilization.

To understand why this charity means so much to me, I'll take you back to when my first was born.

After the chaos of the delivery had started to fade, along with my epidural, it was just me and my baby boy.  We were in the relative quiet of our hospital room that we shared with another new mom and her son, coincidentally also named "Liam".  It was just the two of us on our side of the hospital curtain- my husband had gone home for the night.

I remember holding my baby on my chest, so light that he would rise up and down with my breathing.  So new that he would flinch and writhe unaware that he was no longer nestled inside me, but instead, swaddled tightly and safely in his Aden and Anais blanket.

I remember thinking to myself as I looked over the Manhattan skyline from my room...."Thank God he's mine...Thank God he found me", quickly returning my gaze to that little scrunched face with his tiny, furry features. 

I knew that, even at my worst, my son would be loved and provided for.  I acknowledged that most children resented their parents at some point, but I was hopeful, that if he was going to resent me for something, it would be my over-attentivenes, not my neglect.  I knew that he would be loved- overwhelmingly, immensely, and annoyingly so.  And I was so grateful that he had come to me.

The idea of him being born to a mother who couldn't care for him or worse, didn't want to care for him, literally made my heart hurt.  "What if that had happened?!  How lucky we are that he found his way to us" I would sigh in relief.

I knew that most of these emotions were due to the hormones coursing through my newly knighted "mom-veins", but the emotions were real and the "mama-bear" inside me grew stronger every time this thought would find its way into my head.  "Thank God he's ours."

We brought our baby home and very quickly fell into our routine.  The early days (and sleepless nights) evolved into playdates and mommy and me classes.  It was hard, but only because I was giving it my all.  I nursed him for a year, fed him mostly organic foods, spent time with motor skill development and language engagement- all things that most new moms do.  I worried about iron levels and poop consistencies, added sugar and sun protection.  

We spent a lot of warm days outside in the sun at the park near our condo.  And it was one of those days, when I had packed our lunch to eat at the park before nap time, that I saw a branded RV for a charity like Prevention Project.  So quickly I remembered how grateful I was that Liam was ours and it became clear that this was the solution to ensuring that no other baby found his way to parents who weren't ready for him.

This was the answer.  While extreme and arguably unethical (to lure an addict with money), it is the lesser evil.  If I enable an addiction in order to prevent a child from falling into the hands of unfit parents, I'm ok with that.

Why?  Because I'm not entirely sure where I stand on abortion and because foster care doesn't sound great and because the likelihood of a child being adopted after being born addicted and damaged to the drugs his mother couldn't kick, well, those chances are slim, at best. That's why.

And because, let's be honest, parenting is so so so so so so hard on some days (or perhaps at some point EVERYDAY).  I won't pretend to be perfect, I lose my patience like most moms have and I won't set myself up for failure by saying silly things like "I'll never...".  I'm sure I'll have regrets.  I might yell.  I might even swat (I haven't had to yet!), but I hope that 10-15 years from now, the memories of mom losing her S-H-I-T will be far and few between and justified in the "Yes I yanked you...out of oncoming traffic" kind of way.

What are your thoughts on this charity?? Am I missing a glaring moral issue? I encourage you to poke holes and bring up questions because I want to get involved when I eventually have the time to do so ("when", "eventually" being the operative words here).









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