Jason and I recently discovered that Eliana's hearing loss is very likely due to a genetic condition she inherited from us. This shift from "random unexplainable hearing loss" to "inherited condition" is an overwhelming one. For the first time I have to consider the potential risk of any future children inheriting the same condition, and whether there's a level of responsibility I have to adhere to in terms of choosing not to pass this on. I'm grieved, I'm angry, I feel sick.
If it weren't for our advances in terms of testing now a days (yes I'm ranting about technology again, sit tight), it would never have occurred to me that Eliana's loss was anything more than a random loss. Now I have words like "mutation" and "deficiency" and "abnormality" running through my head, and it suddenly feels like my perfect little girl lives under a heading that makes her less valuable, or less acceptable than everyone else. The language of it makes me feel as if our genes our "tainted", and in today's age where genetic pre-screening is a possibility in utero so that deficiencies can be caught and possibly terminated early, I'm battling against the suffocating darkness of a cultural message that might see her genetic defect as something that should have been weeded out.
This is where information does not feel like power, it feels terrifying, suddenly I'm to choose whether it's ethically responsible for us to have another child, instead of leaving this decision up to God.
After writing the above paragraphs, Jason walked into the room, seeing my tears and distress he said this: "Laura, God is wildly creative. He shapes and forms us as expressions of that creativity. Who are we to stunt His creativity by trying to weed out the very characteristics that embody it? Eliana is a beautiful expression his masterful work, she is exactly who He intended her to be, and should He gift us with more children, they will be exactly who He intends them to be."
Sigh... Yes. She is exactly the Eliana He intended her to be, and I sit in reverent awe as I witness His great creativity at work. My heart moves away from "defect" and towards "creation" and I feel... peace... for now.
Thursday, 19 March 2015
Monday, 2 March 2015
Marital Satisfaction
Jason and I are both pretty passionate people, so over the last 5 and half years of marriage we've both intensely loved and intensely disliked one another. Emotion has never been in short supply, and while that meant our fights have been intense, it's also meant our love for one another has been deep and in abundance.
Last night, after Eliana went to bed, I stared across the room at Jason and for the first time didn't feel much at all. Well, distant, disconnected, I suppose that's how I felt. I started trying to figure out how it happened, it felt like just a few weeks ago our adoration for our daughter and the flood of visitors was leaving us both exhilirated and content to be surrounded by so much love. So what is with this nothingness I feel?
It's like somehow between the end of my mat leave, keeping up with friends and family, the constant swapping between one of us at home with Eliana and the other at work I didn't even notice the bond between us start to drain away. I've often envied people who's emotions are a little more level and steady than my own, but I must say it feels pretty awful, and scary, to feel nothing.
Suddenly I have this chart on marital satisfaction from one of my undergrad psych classes come to my mind: the steady rise during the beginning of marriage and then the slow decline to the zero line once kids come along, only to recover again if the couple makes it the 20 years that result in kids starting to move out. That chart scared me then, and even more now.
If you're one of our parents, I wouldn't worry too much about us just yet, knowing Jason and I, we're likely to have a long, in depth conversation about this and come out the other end feeling closer and more committed to strengthening our marriage. I write this because it's new, and scary, and one of those things that you're told will happen when you have kids, but that I don't really want to accept as inevitable. I see this as one of the many moments where I am reminded that love is a choice, and I can choose to keep working on our bond, even when the emotions aren't there. It's pretty easy to consistently pour out love on our daughter every moment she's awake, I'm biologically wired to do so, but in this new season I'm realizing that consistently pouring love into Jason requires more intention than it used to. I guess that's why there's a consistent finding that marital happiness declines after children, it takes a lot more work, sacrifice, and choice to keep it up.
New parents have this bad reputation of "disappearing" from their social circles once they have a baby. It's true, having a baby makes one want to stay close to home much more often, however, instead of working so hard to prove that stereotype wrong, I may need to embrace it a bit more as a means of spending more one on one time on my marriage. So friends, beware, I may be becoming "one of those people" that can't do as much as I used to, so that I can keep our love running strong even when the feelings aren't there.
Last night, after Eliana went to bed, I stared across the room at Jason and for the first time didn't feel much at all. Well, distant, disconnected, I suppose that's how I felt. I started trying to figure out how it happened, it felt like just a few weeks ago our adoration for our daughter and the flood of visitors was leaving us both exhilirated and content to be surrounded by so much love. So what is with this nothingness I feel?
It's like somehow between the end of my mat leave, keeping up with friends and family, the constant swapping between one of us at home with Eliana and the other at work I didn't even notice the bond between us start to drain away. I've often envied people who's emotions are a little more level and steady than my own, but I must say it feels pretty awful, and scary, to feel nothing.
Suddenly I have this chart on marital satisfaction from one of my undergrad psych classes come to my mind: the steady rise during the beginning of marriage and then the slow decline to the zero line once kids come along, only to recover again if the couple makes it the 20 years that result in kids starting to move out. That chart scared me then, and even more now.
If you're one of our parents, I wouldn't worry too much about us just yet, knowing Jason and I, we're likely to have a long, in depth conversation about this and come out the other end feeling closer and more committed to strengthening our marriage. I write this because it's new, and scary, and one of those things that you're told will happen when you have kids, but that I don't really want to accept as inevitable. I see this as one of the many moments where I am reminded that love is a choice, and I can choose to keep working on our bond, even when the emotions aren't there. It's pretty easy to consistently pour out love on our daughter every moment she's awake, I'm biologically wired to do so, but in this new season I'm realizing that consistently pouring love into Jason requires more intention than it used to. I guess that's why there's a consistent finding that marital happiness declines after children, it takes a lot more work, sacrifice, and choice to keep it up.
New parents have this bad reputation of "disappearing" from their social circles once they have a baby. It's true, having a baby makes one want to stay close to home much more often, however, instead of working so hard to prove that stereotype wrong, I may need to embrace it a bit more as a means of spending more one on one time on my marriage. So friends, beware, I may be becoming "one of those people" that can't do as much as I used to, so that I can keep our love running strong even when the feelings aren't there.
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