Material Girl

I have a decent level of guilt about being insistent upon giving birth, considering my views on adoption and how humans are destroying the Earth. There are so many children out there who need homes – I work with them every day. Knowing that, knowing what humans are doing to our planet, and knowing that pregnancy wouldn’t just “happen” for me because I’m in a same-sex relationship, it would seem like an obvious answer that I would choose to adopt. But I just can’t let go of the idea of being pregnant. It’s something I crave with every fiber of my being, and have since I was a little girl breastfeeding my dolls. I know that I will regret not having the experience.

So, because I cannot put aside this selfish desire without pretty severely impairing my quality of life (drama queen, I know), I am making a commitment to try to make my family have as small of a carbon footprint as I reasonably can. I have long wondered how a registry would work for a baby shower of mine when I am hoping for many gifts of lightly used items that would otherwise just get thrown away. Why do I need a brand new crib, for example? Why do I need a brand new infant tub? High chair? I would be sublimely happy if a shower included people bringing items they would otherwise toss aside, and kept me from having to consume new products.

While this sounds so great in theory, however, I was tested this weekend on my own consumerist attitude. Yes, while I have noble intentions, it’s still there. I’m a product of my society like everyone else.

We fully moved into our house last week Tuesday, when we were settled enough to bring the cats there. This past Sunday, we went back to the apartment at my in-laws’ where we spent the last three months, and we packed up everything that was left and took half of it with us that day. While doing so, my mother-in-law came downstairs to help with cleaning and pointed out Nicole’s baby furniture. There was a desk and headboard bookshelf looking thing, and she said there was a matching dresser in storage. She offered it to us, saying we could take it whenever we need it, it would be there waiting for us. Nicole got so excited, both because it’s her baby furniture and nostalgia is a powerful thing, and also because she loves the way it looks. The issue is – I don’t so much. It’s cute, it’s sweet – but it’s very dated. It has sort of a fake wood laminate look, which was all the rage in 1983 but not so much in (fingers crossed) 2014. The next issue is that they don’t have the crib anymore. How will I get a changing table and crib that match this stuff?? What kind of mishmash will my nursery look like? They’re so old-fashioned, and not in a cute vintage way, and not in a way that would go with anything else I would want to buy.

As I’m saying this, I’m realizing maybe this is more of a little-girl furniture set, not a nursery set (what infant needs a desk?) so it may be able to be saved for that and may not be such an issue. But I’m going to finish my thought anyway since I’ve already written four paragraphs, and the point remains.

I talk dreamily about repurposing other people’s items so that I can minimize my consumerism in having a baby, and then as soon as I’m offered perfectly good furniture which my wife loves, my heart sank at not being able to have my own, or more accurately, not having that perfect matchy nursery that you see in magazines and on TV. Do I need all that stuff? Am I going to need a cutesy teddy bear lamp that the kid will outgrow in a few years, or will that perfectly good lamp currently in the guest bedroom that won’t quite match do just as good of a job?

Not only do I not need or wish to contribute to the purchase of more new items and ultimately more garbage, but I also don’t need to spend money that isn’t necessary. Buying a house outside of NYC is no joke – our property taxes alone are more than what most people pay in rent in most of the rest of the country. We are going to have to budget carefully to have a child, even on two decent salaries, and I don’t want to throw away money that isn’t needed.

I guess I pictured myself as being this humble earthy mother who was one step from using a dresser drawer as a crib like in the olden days. This one flash just made me realize how much following through with this ideal will truly be a challenge for me, at least more than I would have liked to think.

Intro to Judaism - Week 6

The suggested topic for this week is “How do I feel about a Jewish wedding? What do I think about an afterlife?” While seemingly two unrelated subjects, this is a continuation of discussion and readings on the Jewish life cycle, and I do want to touch on both.

After much thought, I decided that I wanted to convert to Judaism about six months before our August 2011 wedding. What I did know right away was that (1) it was too late, too much was in place (particularly our officiant, the mother of a friend who happens to be a Wiccan priestess!), and we knew too little to majorly impact or alter our wedding plans, and (2) I did not want to rush this process just for the sake of having a Jewish wedding; that wasn’t my motivation. So we let it lie until after our wedding, and then began “temple-shopping” so we could get the feel of services before reaching out to a rabbi and moving forward from there.

I enjoy reading about what a Jewish wedding entails, and I do learn about pieces of it that I think it would have been nice to incorporate. However, our wedding was so meaningful to us that I wouldn’t change it for anything. We had a personal and spiritual connection with our officiant, we created our ceremony entirely on our own, and everything was laden with meaning personal to us. We did decide even before our wedding that we would like a ketubah (a wedding contract), but it seemed that it would be more significant, and would just make more sense, to create it after I have converted. We still plan to do that, and I also would like to see if our rabbi would marry us again so that we have our union blessed by her. I’m not sure if that’s something that can happen, or if there is some other somewhat private ceremony we could do that would have similar meaning, but it’s something I’d like to find out about because it would mean a lot to us. My parents did that when my mother converted to Catholicism several years into their marriage, after having gotten married in a Baptist church.

The afterlife – now this is something I was eager to learn about! About two years ago, I asked my close friend Allyson (a conservative Jew who has been an awesome mentor throughout my journey) what the Jewish view was on the afterlife. This was when I was first considering Judaism, and really just trying to get more information. I wasn’t sure what I believed, but I did know I didn’t believe in a concrete view of a Heaven – golden gates, clouds and sunshine, milk and honey. She was kind of stumped and said, “I don’t really know. We don’t focus on that so much. We focus on how we live our lives on Earth.” That was the best response I could have gotten.

Now, almost two years later, reading about the Jewish perspective on the afterlife confirms what Allyson presented, and gives me a better understanding of it. Jews believe the soul is immortal, but do not have much more structure or clarity than that. There is not a “heaven” that is seen as a reward – Jews believe you are rewarded on Earth with how faith enhances one's life, and that you should focus on prayer, Torah study, and acts of charity, in working toward the Messianic age. (Christians believe the Messiah already came, so it makes sense that they would have a different concept of the afterlife.) Likewise, there is also no “hell” that is seen as a punishment. When you atone for your sins on Yom Kippur and pray to be written in the Book of Life, that is a prayer to live another year. You are not atoning and asking to go to heaven, you are atoning and asking for a year of health and life. I am handed religious tracts on the subway pretty frequently, and they almost always start with, “Do you know where you’re going when you die?” The implication is that one should live a more righteous life (and/or ask for forgiveness through Jesus Christ) in order to be sure of a place in Heaven. For Jews, it is not so much about eternal reward, but about your life on Earth – a reward of peace and spiritual strength through a righteous life. It just makes so much sense to me.

There are references to "the heavens," but as a place where God and angels are, not as a place for people. There are references to "the world to come," but that is for all righteous people, regardless of their religious affiliation or level of religious observance, which is just kick-ass. One of the things I struggled with when I began to withdraw from religion was the idea that there was one right way to believe that would get you to "heaven." I remember my aunt, who is born-again Christian, saying that people who don't know about Jesus will not be punished in hell because they didn't have the opportunity, they never knew. But people who are told about Jesus, learn about him, and still reject him, will spend eternity in hell. My first question for her was, "Then why would you tell people about Jesus when you know that if they don't listen, they're now going to hell? Wouldn't you want them to stay safe?" Of course the answer was that it's better to try because it's so important that they be saved. But still, the whole idea has always bothered me. I love that even a religion that speaks of a "chosen people" acknowledges righteous people across all demographics and honors them equally.

When I wrote my first journal entry for this class, I wrote that one of my concerns was getting answers to my questions that I can’t agree with and might jeopardize my ability to sincerely convert. The biggest question in my mind as I wrote that was about the concept of Satan and Hell. That was one of the first things I let go of as a questioning young adult that resulted in my moving away from Christianity. It didn’t make sense to me with my idea of a merciful and compassionate God. It seemed like a primitive concept that was intended to motivate people to act a certain way (and yes, I’m very aware that one could also say that for Jews about being written in the Book of Life). Jews believe that seriously evil people do not have a place in "the world to come," and if bodies are indeed resurrected in the Messianic age, theirs will not be. But they do not go to a place where they are eternally tormented or in fire.

Jews leave a lot of possibilities, acknowledging that you can't know much of what happens in the afterlife. I love that because it's so honest, even if it offers little security or comfort through hard truth. "The world to come" is when the Messiah comes and ushers in an age of peace and then God will restore people to their bodies (questionable how literally this is meant?). Where do the souls of the deceased go until then? Well, there's really no way to know for sure. You could believe that they just sort of float around Earth, hanging out with their loved ones, or you could believe in reincarnation. There are so many possibilities and no way to know the truth.

Speaking of the Messiah, liberal Jews have interpreted this to mean that we are waiting for the Messianic age - so it may not necessarily be one individual who comes to save the world, but could be a time or place in which the world is saved. This brings in the concept of "tikkun olam," which is my agency's motto and means "repair the world." The idea is that we all have a responsibility to bring this age about. I love the idea of taking on that responsibility ourselves and working to improve the world and bring about peace, instead of waiting for that mystery person to show up and do it for us.

Everything I have read and studied has just made me feel more at peace and more sure of my decision. With every question that gets answered, another piece fits into the puzzle.

Intro to Judaism - Week 5

To cut or not to cut? Never before was that a question.

When we first started talking about conversion, I told Nicole that I felt so strongly against circumcision that no way would I allow "them" to pressure me into it if we have a baby boy. Even if it meant being ostracized, I couldn't do something to my child that I felt was wrong just to fit in or receive approval.

Don't try to tell me it's "cleaner." The American Medical Association stopped recommending it years and years ago, acknowledging that there was no medical benefit. Circumcision for non-religious reasons is really an American and Canadian phenomenon - why is that? Is all of, say, Europe just filthy people? And if it's so much cleaner, and we can't just teach our boys how to properly wash themselves, shouldn't we start removing labia so we don't have to teach girls how to clean between them either? Sure would make it easier and "cleaner."

There is an evolutionary reason for the foreskin. It's protective and it maintains the sexual sensitivity of the glans by keeping it moist instead of dry and callused. And for every story of someone who had issues with their foreskin as an older child or adult and had to have it removed then, there is a story of a botched circumcision that left the male with discomfort the rest of their lives. So don't give me those anecdotes as a reason to circumcise either.

What it comes down to is that I have trouble with the idea of making a permanent alteration to my child's body without their consent, when I see no necessity for it. I've had a couple Jewish people mention how it's cleaner and "looks nicer" - which is of course entirely subjective, as I've only ever been exposed to an uncircumcised penis (my first sexual partner and boyfriend of six years) and think THAT looks nicer - but no one is going to win me with that argument. A religious conviction that this is the best thing for my child would be the ONLY thing that could convince me. It doesn't make sense to me for a Jew to try to convince me of the cleanliness of it, or other perceived benefits, when Jews have never circumcised for that reason.

I told Nicole that I can't wait to actually sit down with our rabbi to talk about this, because I have such a high level of respect for her that I think, if she can approach it sensitively with regard to my concerns and reservations, she might be able to get to me. Unfortunately we have struggled to make appointments with her - we took a break for the Jewish holidays which would keep her very busy, and then the hurricane happened and threw everything out of whack.

Then I read the assigned readings in regards to circumcision, and DAMMIT if they don't know how to get to me. The writers acknowledge that there is no other reason to do it except for the fact that it is a covenant with God. The fact that they don't try to convince the reader on other reasons for it took down that initial guard I have up when the topic arises. I found myself being less resistant and more open to what I was reading, and understanding better the reason for it. I also found myself feeling less scared of the actual procedure, which seems so different in a loving, celebratory home environment in the arms of a godparent than strapped to a board in a hospital.

I'm still struggling with it, and probably always will, but I think that's okay. I do have to say I'm surprised that I'm even considering it, though. And while it's a relief in some ways, it's also a bit of a disappointment. I've been such an advocate against circumcision (mostly just against doing it based on myths - I think parents should do their own research before making a decision instead of just going along with it) and it's kind of a let down to be going backward. I still feel uncertain and I still have a hard time with making such a permanent alteration to my child's perfect body, but I also don't want my own militance on the issue to compromise my son's sense of spirituality and connectedness to his God and his community.

Almost There!

We are almost moved into our house, and it feels so amazing. Nicole and her father and cousin moved all the furniture and boxes in Friday morning, and then we spent today cleaning, arranging, and unpacking the kitchen. We just need to get the cats over there, pack up the clothes and dishes from our current temporary apartment and take them over, and then we can really move in. Our living room is so cozy and our bedroom is so bright and sunny. I am in absolute heaven.

My father-in-law has been painting the rooms for us, and today he did the future nursery. Seeing it finished, in a soft yellow, just made it so real. Even Nicole, who is often resistant to talking about babies because it makes her nervous about finances, said, "There's really nothing else this room can be. It's really ready for babies." I get lost gazing into it, imagining starting our family. When I flopped across our just-put-together bed, I pictured the kids running in early on a Saturday morning to make sure we're up. I can't believe we're here, in our home.

Happy doesn't even describe it.

Intro to Judaism - Week 4

This week's topic is prayer - and what a rich topic it is for me. I have wrestled with prayer since I was a kid old enough to start thinking about the meaning of it. I struggled with questions such as: Do we have a right to be asking for things? Are some things too petty to ask for? How does praying for someone work? And "prayer chains"? Is it a popularity contest where someone without enough prayers may die? If praying hard enough or fervently enough helped someone heal, then wouldn't the converse be true as well, and what does that say about our "merciful" God? And if praying doesn't help yourself or others with a requested improvement, then what's the point?

My sister told me some time ago, and I've since read it in Jewish texts and heard it from our rabbi, that her priest had said prayer is more about your relationship with God. I write more about that here. Prayer strengthens my faith and my sense of comfort and peace. Prayer helps me focus on my goals and desires and propels me toward action. Prayer reminds me of what is needed by those I love. Prayer centers me. Prayer impacts how I relate to others.

That one shift in perspective on the purpose of prayer and how it works has impacted my entire sense of spirituality. It made me feel like I could return to prayer, and I've slipped back into it almost seamlessly - a little awkward at first, but it was like riding a bike.

Also, to end this brief post on a random note, one of my readings mentioned that there are three types of prayer - petition, thanksgiving, and praise/worship - and that you should avoid prayers of petition on Shabbat since it is God's day of rest. Whether or not most Reform Jews adhere to this, I have no idea - but it immediately made sense to me in a sweet way, and I have embraced it as something meaningful for me. It has been an enjoyable and fulfilling challenge to spend my silent moment of prayer in services making sure that I am only offering up praise or gratitude.

Intro to Judaism - Week 3

Reading about Shabbat in the past few weeks has made a significant impact on my experience of it. Understanding its meaning makes me feel compelled to honor Shabbat. I am learning about many traditions, customs, and rituals, and finding what is meaningful to me – many things are not (or at least not yet), but I took to observance of Shabbat almost immediately. It just clicked with me.

I remember in one of our first meetings with Rabbi R, she suggested we start thinking about how to honor Shabbat at home, because observance in home life is very important to Jews. She gave the idea of lighting candles. We never did this because it felt awkward and contrived, but now I know why – because we didn’t get what it was for, not on a spiritual level anyway. It felt like we were mimicking someone else’s tradition. It didn’t feel like it had meaning for us.

Recently this has changed a great deal, just from learning about it. Now I’m eager to embrace it as my own, as something that is personally significant. The last couple of Shabbat services have felt entirely different – joyous and a little emotional. When we first began going, I looked so forward to the sermon (d’var Torah?) because that’s where I felt stimulated, that’s where I felt like I was learning; the rest of the service, while basically enjoyable, felt too long and repetitive. I felt antsy to get to the sermon, and then disappointed when it seemed over so quickly. Now I enjoy every part of the service (maybe still not quite so much the exhaustive naming of all the Yahrzeits and people in need of healing, but I understand and respect the purpose). I enjoy every prayer, every chant, every reading. It just all has a different feel, and I can’t quite explain it.

I’ve also had to start thinking about how I’m going to observe Shabbat OUTSIDE of temple. Now the idea of lighting our own Shabbat candles is nice. But I feel compelled to take it further than that. I have really relished the last few Shabbatot in a way that was entirely new to me. I felt happy and relaxed and rejuvenated. I tried not to do anything unless I took pleasure in it – so it may be considered “work” technically, but it wasn’t work to me if I enjoyed it. For example, going over to our new house together last Saturday to wash down our cabinets was refreshing, sentimental, and exciting as we prepared our new home.

I’m not always comfortable talking about my conversion to people who don’t get it, or who themselves are uncomfortable with it – and this leads to a challenge if I want to make sure I don’t work at my actual job on Shabbat. This would mean stating that I can only take the weekday on-call shifts, and that I can only work on Sundays. It could even mean having to leave before 4:00 in the winter in order not to be at work at sundown. All of this means exposing myself quite a bit, but it’s something I’m feeling increasingly strongly about, so I may have to make that leap.

Homeowners!!!

It is absolutely surreal that we became homeowners two hours ago.

We started to get a little anxious when the seller and her attorney weren't there after almost an hour. (We were there 20 minutes early.) They were both late separately, which was kind of obnoxious. We used that time to write out a few checks and sign about a zillion documents.

The seller was awesome, icing on the cake. It feels so good to buy a house from someone who is warm and eager to see it go to good people. She is a middle-aged widow with six grown children, and she and her husband lived in the house since 1984 when they moved in with their two babies. Our agent had told us that she was moving because her husband had recently died, and it was all I could do not to cry when she told her attorney, "I brought Teddy's death certificate in case you need it again." They had just put work into the house, seemingly anticipating staying in the house for quite some time still. I can't imagine raising your family in a house and then leaving when your partner dies, after renovating the bathroom together, putting in custom window treatments, etc. Making it yours now that your kids are out of the house. She said the next project was going to be to refinish the wood floors. I said, "Oh we are doing that before we even move in!" and she got so excited. She said she wished she would be able to see them, and I told her to feel free to drop in next time she's in town.

She said that the house was "always busy and full of family and love," I told her we hope to give it that same life, and she gave me such a warm hug. She said she's grateful to be living near her son in Connecticut now, because otherwise we would probably start to wonder about the strange woman we keep seeing in the driveway.

Before meeting her, I felt guilty about feeling so happy to get this house when it's because of such terrible circumstances for someone else. But after we spoke, I felt so happy and at peace. She raised her family in this house, loved this house, tended to this house, and now she is passing it on to a new family to continue bringing in that same energy. It almost feels like the house has a life and spirit of its own. She seemed genuinely happy to see it go to us, and also happy for this whole process to be over so that she can have it behind her and settle in in CT, where she now has a job and a home near her son and her very young grandchildren.

After closing, we went over to the house just to see it and try to grasp that it was really ours. Nicole isn't as sentimental as I am, and is not generally able to sit for long (or sometimes at all) in a place of joy and appreciation before anxiously planning the next thing. So I had long ago let go of the romantic notion of a picnic on the living room floor or a glass of champagne or even just sitting snuggled in a corner of an empty room. I let her pace downstairs and I went upstairs and just cherished every piece of this that is OURS. I touched the wood, the blinds, the bathroom cabinet, the glass doorknobs. I pressed my lips to the wood frame of our bedroom doorway and inhaled the smell. I stared into the small middle bedroom that will someday be our nursery.

Our home.