Mother To Mother
editorial
The only way to speak the
truth
is to speak lovingly.
Henry David Thoreau
Read past editorials in the Archive
Fall, 2002
Daughter to Mother
Summer is the height of organic life, the garden is bursting with fruit, the days are longest, people are louder and happier than most other times of the year. It was Mom's favourite time of the year, her sheep would be pregnant and she could zip off to the beach at the drop of a hat. As this season approached, the farm sat waiting expectantly for this life to happen, and it just didn't. There is no one to work the land, no one to care for a flock, and that is a truly sad sight. So we have listed the farm for sale.
A part of me will be happy when I can move the business to Hamilton, and answer the phone and work on a little bit each day instead of cramming it all into two days each week. But another part of me will miss the solitary trek to Clifford each week. However, this will allow me to finish my degree in the fall, and maybe get a part time job to save for a big party I want to throw next year: my wedding.
But until then, I need to work on this magazine, I need to struggle through another issue (and what a glorious struggle it is!), learning an incredible amount only to realize I still know very little.
My Daughter to Mother is getting shorter and shorter with each issue. I don't want to say too much, taking away from other voices that know much more than I do. Again I have included another classi Mother to Mother, this Mom's second effort. I am stunned at how relevant her words still are, and how in tune she has always been with her readers. Your voices are the clearest of all...This issue admonishes me not to take the middle road, not to betray the radical course Mom set. True wisdom.
Mother to Mother (Spring 1985 Number 2)
by Catherine Young
Not everyone likes this magazine. The purchasing agent for St. Catherine's General Hospital so disliked us she intercepted 10 copies internally mailed to the prenatal department, relieved a blind man's copies from his magazine stand, and destroyed them all.
We don't expect whole hearted approval. If everyone loved us, we simply wouldn't be doing our job, and our job is to affect change.
Ous is a culture that produces colicky babies, hyperactive children and depressed teenagers. A culture where women are deemed virtually incapable of birthing and a subculture of male birthers - the obstetricians, gynecologists and anesthetists in the mechanical womb of the life-support wired delivery room, come to a dubious rescue.
Ours is a culture where a premier's son murders his wife, a musician murders himself and a truck driver rapes and tortures and murders hundreds of terrified children.
Not everyone appreciates the nature of our magazine. Editorially we believe birth is the most profound experience a woman will have, and that memories of an untampered with birth experience will follow a woman to her grave. Not only are we convinced there need be no dread or fear attached to pregnancy and birth, but on the contrary, to deny discussion of the normal birth experience is to shortchange us all.
There are many who would rather dwell on the dcvil they already know, the poorly womb-nourished, badly birthed, unloved child who grows into an adult monster committing hate-filled acts of rage. Headlines report their deeds daily and prisons fill to overflowing. Intellectuals argue that they should be hung, or not hung, paroled or not paroled.
But there are more of us than them. Mothers and fathers and grandparents and friends of humanity who know that our children will flourish if we nurture them well. Our Best Babies need to be loved and wanted before the moment of conception. Our Best Babies need a nutrutious beginning that cannot be found queuing up at McDonald's or uncapping a bottle of Coke. Our Best Babies are born gently and happily in an atmosphere of excitement that is not stifled by the professionalism of hospital staff. Our Best Babies are lifted quickly from the warmth of within a mother's womb to the warmth of beside her clostrum filling breasts. And our Best Babies do cuddle and snuggle and kiss and find utopian satisfaction in those breasts long after they walk and chew and sip from a cup as well.
Our best Babies are our delight and joy and remain that way even when they dress themselves and draw dinosaurs and ride bicycles.
Our Best Babies will grow into fine human beings. They will commit no murders. They won't be that angry.
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Birth, Joy, &
Raspberry Leaves
-a new video compiled by Catherine and Amanda Young
of The Compleat Mother
Go HERE for more information on the waterbirth video!
Click here to read:
The Farmer and the Obstetrician
