Journal of the Motherhood Initiative for Research and Community Involvement (JMI - York University)

Arcana, Judith

 Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering         217 
She couldn’t be sure what he’d say
Judith Arcana
1.
I never use condoms, you want me to feel it, don’t you?
See, here’s what I’ll do, when I think I’m ready to blow,
I’ll slide right out like a brass trombone, won’t miss a thing,
not one little thing, honey girl, you’ll see. We’ll feel good,
no trouble in mind. I’m gonna protect you, honeybaby.  
or
Don’t you say one word, not one word; don’t you make one sound,
not even the smallest sound, and don’t you move neither, don’t
you move a muscle. I don’t have to tell you what’ll happen
if you talk about this, do I? I didn’t think so. I always knew you
were a smart girl. You always were a real smart girl.
2.
Now you know that’s my baby too,
that’s my baby as much as yours;
that’s my son you got in there.
I know I put my boy up there;
man, I could just feel it.
or
You say it’s mine but how do I know?
You’re doing it with me, why not
somebody else? Other guys,
maybe lotsa guys, girl like you,
acting like you know what to do.
218         Volume 9, Number 1
Judith Arcana
3.
You think I don’t know what you’re doing,
but let me tell you this, missy: you come in here
one day, you got yourself a big belly, you’ll find
yourself out on the street, right out on the street;
now that’s a promise.
or
Sweetheart, it would just kill your mother
if you got yourself in trouble, if you had
to quit school, if you couldn’t graduate
with your class, if you couldn’t go straight
on to college; you know that, don’t you? Don’t you?


English

She couldn't be sure what he'd say

Pilon, Sarah

 Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering         165 
Here I am a typical 16-year-old girl. I know everything. My parents really 
don’t know what the’re talking about because it’s a new time, new world, new 
rules. My rules. 
Getting high, at the very least, seven times a day, once before class in 
the morning, then at lunch break, afternoon break, after school, and at least 
twice in the evening. My whole world was getting high. If I found a quarter. 
the first thought in my mind was, “all I need is another $4.75 to get a joint.” 
I would search, steal, and lie to get it. I would stay up or go out as late until I 
found some—day after day, until I got bored. I had to get high to be normal. 
It wasn’t giggly fun anymore, so I upgraded. First it was oil, hash, perks, then 
mushrooms and ecstasy. I was falling fast into a hole I couldn’t pull myself 
out of alone. 
The norm was party hard on the weekend—whatever was the cheapest 
way to waste away the rest of the crappy week. One week was particularily 
bad. My parents and I, as usual, were on very different levels of what was ac-
ceptable, and there was plenty of arguing. My friend, Nadine, convinced me to 
go to this party. I agreed. Half-sloshed, I met a guy. His name was Travis. He 
was older (20), different, and certainly not like all the other guys I knew. We 
totally hit it off that night, met the next day, and before we knew it, we were 
dating. Of course, with absolutely no approval from my parents (16-year-old 
baby of the family dating a 20-year-old guy)! We continued to date. We were 
both in a difficult place … lost … and it was as if we found each other and 
kept each other from drowning in the mud, like Forrest Gump and Bubba 
leaning against each other to sleep—we stayed afloat. 
He did his military thing and I was in high school. I had no idea what he 
was doing; I just knew he put on a uniform every Thursday, and we couldn’t 
Sarah Pilon
Aren’t I  Too Young? 
166         Volume 9, Number 1
Sarah Pilon
hang out. Life went on. 
Everything was perfect. I now had someone to talk to, someone to share 
myself with, someone to party with. All we did together was party or stay at 
his house and drink and get high and watch movies. Then I’d go home and 
wait to do it all over again the next day. We didn’t really know each other. I 
think we were both too hurt or too scared to let each other in. Our relationship 
was satisfactory to our needs and wants. We were sexually active and I knew I 
wouldn’t get pregnant because that only happened to other girls—I was going 
to finish high school, go to university, and be something great, but that was 
later—I was just having fun for now. 
August 2002.  I started getting cramps. I thought for sure it was my ap-
pendix or bladder, something hereditary. My doctor ordered an ultrasound. 
When the nurse stared intently at the screen, I knew something was wrong. 
I thought something was wrong with my bladder, but she turned the screen 
around and pointed to a little dot on the screen, “That little squiggly line in 
the middle of the circle … that’s a baby, you’re pregnant.” My heart dropped. I 
never knew tears could fall from my face so quickly. The first words that came 
out of my mouth were, “is it too late to have an abortion?” She said, “no.” I was 
only six weeks along. At this point, Travis, my boyfriend and the baby’s father, 
was living in Borden, taking a course for the military to become a mechanic, 
coming home only on the weekends, staying with me and my parents. I wasn’t 
sure what to say to him. He came home that day—my 17th birthday was that 
weekend. I blurted out the news with many tears. The amount of sorrow, 
confusion, and fear was so thick in the air that it felt like a really foggy night 
with your brights on, unable to see, guessing how to steer. He wasn’t shocked. 
He agreed to support whatever decision I made. 
I made the appointment. I was getting an abortion. This was something 
I had been strongly against, ever since I was a kid, and something I argued 
against in debates at school and with friends. But, suddenly, everything changed 
radically. 
On the Sunday night I was laying with my mom, hoping to feel comforted. 
She asked me if I was pregnant, I’m sure hoping I would laugh and tell her 
she was crazy. I replied “yes.” She cried. I cried. We cried. We had a real talk 
for the first time since I was 13. I decided that night I would keep the baby. 
Travis agreed and we decided to get married in December 2002, finally getting 
serious about our lives. 
The military wouldn’t move me until paper work for our marriage went 
through, so I lived with my parents for another three months. My mother’s 
worst nightmare was coming true—seeing her little girl walk around with a 
big belly. 
Being able to spend time with Travis only on weekends didn’t help us get 
any closer. And I was still getting high all the time, it being the only thing that 
kept my mind off my belly getting bigger and bigger. I was about to become 
a mom! The most responsibility I had ever had was getting to McDonalds on 
 Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering         167 
Aren’t I Too Young?
time to start work, something with which I struggled! I was so scared—so 
ill-prepared. I knew nothing. I even failed my high school parenting course! 
All I was sure about was that I wasn’t going to kill an innocent baby—that my 
baby would grow up to be a person, a friend, a human being. 
Shortly before I moved to Borden someone mentioned to me (true or 
not) that if they found traces of drugs in my baby at birth, the Children’s Aid 
Society would become involved, and they would probably take the baby away. 
I was so frightened it was as if someone had kicked me in the face. I didn’t 
want to lose my baby. I was starting to feel kicks and be comfortable with the 
idea of being a mom, excited to meet him or her—this was my baby. I had to 
clean myself up—not for me, but for my child. It was no longer an option! I 
quit smoking cigarettes, quit smoking weed, and I even stopped swearing! 
I finally moved to Borden, Ontario—a military base—near the end of 
March 2003. I was in a new world that wasn’t mine anymore. I didn’t know 
anyone but Travis. Everyone around me was military, something extremely new 
to me. We lived in a pMq (married quarters) on base. The only time I got out 
to do anything was when we started going to our church in North Bay, the 
church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. The majority of the people in the 
church were fairly young families. I started to ask a lot of questions, getting 
feedback from moms that had experience, and reading a lot of magazines and 
books on parenting. I started learning and continued researching how to be a 
good mom, but no book could prepare me for an actual baby. At the same time, 
I found myself getting to know Travis for the first time. We had never done 
anything recreational, or productive together. It was as if I had started dating 
my husband! I fell in love with him, and he was a totally different person, a 
person I admired. 
Ryan Joseph Emile pilon was born May 24th, 2003. After a scare (the 
cord was around his neck) he was born perfectly healthy and very cute! I was 
immediately in love with him. I was still very scared, but Travis being the 
amazing man that he is, helped us develop as a wonderful family. 
Travis was transferred to petawawa, Ontario, so we moved four months 
after Ryan was born. Another new area, but this time I had Ryan. It no lon-
ger felt like I got pregnant and we were just “dealing with it.”  This time, it 
felt like we were starting a family, a little unexpected and very early though, 
nonetheless, true. I was no longer interested in the life I once led and enjoyed. 
It was as if someone had pried my eyes open until I was willing to see, and 
then thanked them for helping me to see, forever indebted and grateful. That 
person was God. 
We decided after Ryan was about nine months old to have another child 
and so we started trying. I soon learned through a friend at church that there 
was a young parent support program in the area that offered free childcare and 
available courses to complete high school. I jumped at the opportunity and 
started the program. I met people my age and learned about the area and the 
support and help available to me as a mom.
168         Volume 9, Number 1
Sarah Pilon
I saw a lot of girls still living “the life” with children, ultimately pushing 
their child aside to please themselves—getting nothing but brief moments of 
fake happiness with others, while their child was learning how to say “mommy,” 
learning how to to walk, read, smile, and giggle with someone else. I knew from 
that moment on I would try my best to be fully dedicated to my son Ryan, 
and to my future children, giving them the most memorable childhood I was 
able to give … remembering that mom was there. 
Soon after we had a baby girl—Jordan Morgan Jean pilon, born on April 
27th, 2005. There was now chaos in our little house, with a few new friends 
from church and school that visited and helped.
We had been clean from everything since I was four months pregnant 
with Ryan, and counting. We had a family and we were embracing it. We 
enjoyed our moments together, creating more, moving past the hard days or 
weeks, learning. 
We were invited to the Dominican Republic for Travis’s brother’s wedding 
in January 2006. We gratefully attended that wedding and returned home with 
yet another blessing, although this particular pregnancy was not all ribbons 
and lace. The summer following was extremely trying on our marriage and we 
went through a very rough patch. But the worst is over and we are recovering 
beautifully with the help of family and friends, and first and foremost, God. 
We just gave birth to another baby girl, Skyra Jessie Michaela pilon, on 
November 9th, 2006. Absolutely gorgeous and a true blessing to our family 
and marriage. 
I look at my son, now almost four years old, and I will never be able to 
thank my mom enough for talking with me that night and, in a way, smacking 
me upside the head. The way his perfect, little, innocent face looks at me and 
says “mommy … I love you” makes me so unbelievably grateful that decided 
to “keep the baby.” My life would not be the same without them—all my 
children. My life. 


Aren't I Too Young

Delaney, Saje

176         Volume 9, Number 1
My mom didn’t believe me. She didn’t want to face that it was actually 
true.                 —Amy Schnieder
It’s hard to be a young mom. people look down on you, and society, as a whole, 
disapproves. It can be difficult to finish school with a decent education. There 
are many programs that help mom though. When I had Chase I had no idea 
what I was doing. Attending programs and talking to other moms helped me 
to cope. 
There are many programs out there for young parents. We have “Baby 
and Me Yoga” and gymnastics. These are good because many people, especially 
young moms, are worried about post-pregnancy weight. For those who need 
extra help coping, there are prenatal classes and home health nurses. Also, 
Best-Start and the Ontario Early Years Centre have excellent resources that 
you can take home. pembroke’s library has story-telling for parents and their 
children. The children listen to stories and then make crafts. pembroke also 
has father-baby programs. Another great program is the Young parent Sup-
port program (YpSp). This one helps get young parents their education and 
develop their parenting skills as young adults. 
A major concern of people is education. Some believe that, if you have a 
child at a young age, you’ll never finish school. Young parent Support program 
helps to dispel this myth. YpSp has a school where parents bring their chil-
dren. As the children play upstairs, under childcare supervision, the parents do 
schooling downstairs. The great thing is that, unlike regular school, everyone 
works on different subjects and there aren’t too many distractions. Because of 
the great support of YpSp, young moms are getting their education, as op-
posed to dropping out. 
Saje Delany
Young Moms
 Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering         177 
Young Moms
When young moms have babies many consider it “babies having babies.” 
Angela Shelton (Schneider, 2006) says, “I wish babies were not having babies. 
It makes me so sad and frustrated.” Other people believe that we are too young, 
too promiscuous, and too untrained. It’s true a lot of us don’t know what to 
do, but for a first child no one knows what to do exactly. Older people look 
down on young moms because they believe most of us are substance abusers. 
Younger people do have a higher abortion and adoption rate. What others 
don’t look at is the fact that as our children get older so do we. We all mature 
as we grow. 
Although many people look down on young moms, no one really sees us. 
They believe that since we’re young, we’re wrong. Many of us have made bad 
choices, but some programs help us to make good ones. The Young parent 
Support program is one of these, helping us to get our education. Just like 
everyone else, young and old, a baby changes everything. So, although we had 
a child at a young age, we can do the same as everyone else, only better. 
References
Schneider, Amy. April 18, 2006. Online: www.angelashelton.com.
Saje Delany and son, Chase 
178        Volume 9, Number 1
Ama Indeewari Liyanage, “Fountain of Love”


Young Moms

Berggren
					, Heidi M.

Are Some Mothers More Equal than Others? Class Divisions in U.S. Family Leave Policy

Nelson Villanueva
					, reviewed by Karen

 Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering        271 
Book Reviews
of her having a loving and spiritually enriched childhood that carried her 
through difficult life experiences. She lost her mother at age ten, for example, 
and experienced racial discrimination and sexual exploitation. The unique of-
fering of this book, however, is its examination of Hudley’s positive life experi-
ences. Haight and Miller argue for the importance of Hudley’s story, not as a 
stereotypical “virtuous, strong black grandmother” story, but as a contrast to 
the typical “risk and disadvantage” narratives that are often found in scholarly 
works on African American human development.
Edith Hudley’s vibrant and colourful stories evoke the joyful memories 
she has of her childhood with her parents, of growing into adulthood, and 
becoming a wife and mother herself under the supportive guidance of the 
“other mothers” she had in her life. Further, she shares the story of becoming 
an “other mother” to her own granddaughter, who was abandoned by Hudley’s 
daughter-in-law, and to the other children she cares for from her Utah church 
congregation.
Raise Up a Child offers an African American perspective on child rearing 
that reflects a general spiritual and cultural experience that is shared historically 
by many in African American communities. If offers readers a first-person ac-
count and demonstrates the need to study diverse cultural models of human 
development. It also serves as a useful instructional text for readers interested 
in positive child rearing practices.
In 1975, when a renowned sociologist and authority on Black people in Can-
ada discovers the Abbott Collection, Catherine Slaney’s uncle decides that it 
is time to reveal the family secret: that Slaney’s family is descended from Dr. 
Anderson Ruffin Abbott, the first Canadian-born Black doctor. At age 24, 
Slaney and her family discover their Black heritage when they were formerly 
living as white.
Published by Natural Heritage Books, a publishing house that celebrates 
the rich history and contribution of Blacks in Canada, Family Secrets: Cross-
ing the Colour Line attempts to tell the story of Slaney’s ancestors. The author 
traces the Abbott’s history as former slaves in the United States, their arrival 
in Canada, how her great-great-grandfather, Anderson Ruffin Abbott, became 
Family Secrets: Crossing the Colour Line 
Catherine Slaney. 
Toronto: Natural Heritage Books, 2003. 
Reviewed by Karen Nelson Villanueva
272        Volume 9, Number 2
Book Reviews
the first Canadian-born Black to graduate as a medical doctor from the Uni-
versity of Toronto, and her reunion with “lost” Black relations in the United 
States. This is a story of a mixed-descent Black family which exemplifies the 
ancestry of many who have “passed” for white.
Although she has known for thirty years of her multi-racial heritage, 
Slaney insists she is white and continues to “pass.” She tells of attending a 
workshop for women writers of colour where the presenter mistook her for 
white; henceforth she felt unaccepted by people of colour. At the same time, 
she recounts that white people repeatedly ask why she is dark-skinned. When 
she attributes her skin colour to a fallacious Spanish great-grandmother, she 
fails to recognize this rejection of her whiteness. In another instance, she visits 
a church of light-skinned Blacks in Detroit. When the congregants assume she 
is Black, she believes they are mistaken and clings steadfastly to her desire to 
be white, despite all indications to the contrary. At every juncture, Slaney fails 
to prove that she is not a light-skinned Black woman passing for white. 
Slaney’s unwillingness to interrogate her own identity is disappointing. 
She wants to be proud of her ancestry but is unwilling to embrace her com-
plex identity as a woman who is part Black. In fact, she claims the “one drop 
rule” —that Blackness is determined by one drop of Black blood—no longer 
exists. Regrettably, Slaney misses an important opportunity to celebrate her 
multi-cultural identity, and to serve as an example for others of mixed-racial 
heritage. It is especially unfortunate that she chooses instead to deny her Black 
heritage and proclaim her whiteness.
In The Mommy Brain: How Motherhood Makes Us Smarter, Katherine Ellison 
provides neurological evidence to help women justify their decision to be-
come a mother and demonstrates how mothers often realign their full-time 
career goals once their heightened intelligence takes over their previously 
selfish—and sluggish—brains. Ellison herself was once a globetrotting re-
porter who shifted her career focus in order to write from home while raising 
her children. The result, obviously, is The Mommy Brain. Given her position 
The Mommy Brain: 
How Motherhood Makes Us Smarter
Katherine Ellison.
Jackson, Tennessee: Basic Books, 2005.
Reviewed by Cyndi Brannen


Family Secrets: Crossing the Colour Line

Jordan, Nané

254         Volume 9, Number  1
Book Reviews
rather because they are stuck in dead-end jobs” (330). Moreover, in evaluating 
work-life integration, it is worth recognizing that “the division of labor within 
households is not taken into consideration in typical work structures”: “[m]en 
spend an average of 40 minutes each day on cooking and routine housework, 
compared to women for whom it occupies up to 2 ½ hours” (333). In fact, “[n]ot 
only do organizations fail to recognize that women carry more responsibility 
at home, but it is common for these facts to be turned around and used as the 
basis for prejudice against women” (333).
I wonder if, perhaps, the researchers might have gained from expanding 
the definition of “life”—that is, not focusing their research on life as it is framed 
by family responsibility. Editors Kossek and Lambert had considered such an 
expanded definition and decided against it, however, when practitioners in the 
field argued that redefining the field in terms of “quality of life” issues rather 
than work-life issues would make it even more difficult to sell work-life in-
novations to American employers (515).
In its charge to change the work place to fit the workers, this volume will 
appeal—widely and fully—to academics, practitioners, policy makers, and 
organizational leaders. 
Janet Chawla’s edited volume on “birth and birthgiving” in India is a significant 
collection of essays signaling new directions for critical, complex, passionate 
research and writing on birth and birthgiving within a context of ever increasing 
globalization. Focusing on the threatened practices of indigenous birth knowl-
edge and the work of dais (traditional midwives) in India, this book celebrates 
indigenous traditions relating to birth and their practitioners, birthgivers.
Chawla’s opening essay records through a religio-cultural lens her journey 
toward dais-focused research, initiated by MATRIKA. She enters the complexi-
ties of Western and Indian feminisms, motherhood discourses, essentialism, 
the biomedical technologizing of birth in India, caste and gender disparities, 
religion, the targeting of dais in development discourses, and the problem of 
representing research subjects. Chawla studies “genealogies of the sacred as 
they pertain to birth and birthgivers” (52). For example, she discusses female 
procreative blood and its relationship to the “demonic” feminine in Vedic and 
Birth and Birthgivers: 
The Power Behind the Shame 
Janet Chawla, ed.  
New Delhi: Har-Anand Publications, 2006.
Reviewed by Nané Jordan
 Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering         255 
Book Reviews
Brahmanic texts. Reframing the “polluting” power of female blood, Chawla 
asks, “what is this power, this bodily capacity to disrupt meditations?” (56). 
Chawla discusses the communicative entrance of MATRIKA researchers into 
the dais world of birth through “word-pictures” where narak—or Hell – was 
a central image. Variously referred to in conjunction with puberty rites, birth 
and postpartum practices, and as the underground fertile dwelling of the god-
dess-like Bemata, this complex term is used by dais “without distaste or moral 
judgement” (60). Chawla transcribes narak as signaling the inner world of the 
female body (and the earth), as an ethno-medical concept that allows for “a 
host of therapeutic interventions” (60). 
Contributors to this book include Vidya Rao, Manju Kapoor, Anuradha 
Singh, Deepti Priya Mehrotra, Sarah Pinto, Sabadhra Devi Rai, and Alpana 
Sagar. Rao’s essay describes the rich tradition of “sohar songs,” a form of Indian 
music linked to the human life cycle. Sung by women to celebrate the birth of 
a child, Rao details how sohars map the living, emotional landscape of birth, 
the longing of a mother for her husband/beloved, the speaking of her birth 
pain, “pleasure, shame, silence and speech” (96). 
Pinto’s essay reads the “birth-work” of dais as a complex set of social rela-
tions, whose differing tasks, like birth attending, postpartum massage, and 
placenta/blood clean-up, are marked by caste and identity. Mehrotra’s piece 
describes her work as a MATRIKA researcher, working with “voices from the 
ground” (173) to tell dais’s birth stories, how they came to learn their craft, 
and documents their practices. Singh explores layered, textual, cosmological 
Ayurveda conceptions of maternity; “she both knows the body and is the body” 
(147). Kapoor narrates the satisfying home birth story of her fourth child (her 
first to be born at home) through engaging description of her thoughts and 
dialogue with those around her. Devi Rai sheds light on the unaccounted for 
monetary and social value of dais’s work. And Sagar, a medical doctor herself, 
explores the “business” of childbirth in India from doctors’ and women’s per-
spectives, considering how to make birth safer for poor women.
I highly recommend this book for anyone wanting to understand not only 
indigenous birth practices in India, but seeking to enrich their knowledge 
of the importance of birth giving traditions and midwifery dynamics within 
mother-and female-centred birth care. 


Birth and Birthgivers: The Power Behind the Shame

Darisi, Tanya

"It Doesn't Matter if You're 15 or 45, Having a Child is a Difficult Experience": Reflexivity and Resistance in Young Mothers' Constructions of Identity

Schwartz-Bechet, Barbara

 Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering         247 
Book Reviews
the notion that mothers are solely responsible for familial happiness. 
If a critical, social, and political analysis of “Mommy Guilt” is what you 
are looking for, this book is not for you. If, however, you are seeking practical 
parenting strategies presented in an interesting and humorous way, you will 
enjoy this book.
As a mother and a professional in the field of special education for over twenty 
years, I am impressed with Miriam Edelson’s Battle Cries: Justice for Kids with 
Special Needs. Edelson is a well-educated, involved, and resourceful parent who 
asserts that an individual with a disability is, first and foremost, a person and 
a family member. Edelson begins her book with a first-person account of her 
battle for justice and equality for her son Jake, a child with severe disabilities 
who has since passed away. She describes personal challenges, as well as the 
obstacles she and her family faced when dealing with individuals and social 
service agencies. Edelson rightly claims that her best attribute is strength of 
character. This is evident throughout her book, which is based on extensive 
research on public policy and private support (see part one) that informs the 
individual portraits she provides in part two.
Part one describes the “terrain” of the disability realm. Chapters cover 
topics such as services and supports, the marginalization of mothers who take 
care of children with disabilities, respite, faith and the community, and how 
society views individuals with disabilities. Edelson includes factual information 
regarding services, supports, and policy issues across Canada’s provinces. Gen-
eral tips on how to find services are included at the back of the text; however, 
a list of contacts, resources, and telephone numbers is a regrettable oversight 
that would have been invaluable to readers.
Through the voices of mothers and one father, part two presents the “battle 
cries” of the book’s title. Each portrait presents the story of the child’s birth, life 
with the family, the education and services that the child and family receive, 
and how family relationships intertwine with their individual communities. 
The portraits document the heroism of families who advocate on behalf of 
their children and show that advocacy and appropriate planning can result in 
functional lives for disabled children.
Edelson uses her first-hand knowledge of mothering a disabled child and 
Battle Cries:
Justice for Kids with Special Needs  
Miriam Edelson.
Toronto: Sumach Press, 2005.
Reviewed by Barbara Schwartz-Bechet
248         Volume 9, Number  1
Book Reviews
social policy to focus her narrative and research questions. She identifies the 
need to balance the private endeavour of cultivating a family and the use of 
public support that is available—although less available to children with more 
severe disabilities. She argues that a sense of community—whether family- 
based, neighbourhood-based, or culturally-based—must complement society’s 
limited public resources.
A true ethnographic study, Battle Cries identifies essential patterns of 
acceptance, understanding, and growth. Edelson’s heartfelt book is written 
specifically for families of children with disabilities and those professionals 
who work directly with them.
Nancy Graham’s unflinching account of surviving her mother’s depression opens 
with an epigraph from Jamaica Kincaid’s The Autobiography of My Mother: “My 
mother died the moment I was born, and so for the whole of my life there was 
nothing standing between myself and eternity.” This unwelcome delivery into 
loss and pain also describes Graham’s experience: for three months after her 
birth, on 17 March 1962, her mother was hospitalized for severe postpartum 
depression that recurred yearly for 20 years.
Martha Bonner, Graham’s mother, was a lively young woman with many 
friends and interests. Born in 1930 in Hamilton, Ontario, where Graham also 
spent her youth, Bonner left high school at the age of 16 to help support her 
family and was working in the accounts department at Hydro Electric when 
she was introduced to her future husband, Henry Reid, on a blind date. Mar-
ried in 1958, the couple moved to a bungalow in a neighbourhood of the city 
where farm fields and apple orchards once stood. Thus far, the story is familiar 
as the narrative of a young, energetic couple married during the post-war boom, 
eager for a family and their future. Just a few years later, as Bonner sinks deeper 
and deeper into depression, the familiar outlines of a suburban childhood are 
ruptured as Graham enters the terrifying world of mental illness and becomes 
mother and caregiver to her own mother.
Graham’s narrative veers between the nightmare of psychiatric hospitals 
and the nightmare of home, where her mother perpetually teeters on the verge 
of incapacitating depressions. In spite of the considerable grief she feels when 
Afraid of the Day:
A Daughter’s Journey
Nancy Graham.
Toronto: Women’s Press, 2003.
Reviewed by Nancy Gerber


Battle Cries: Justice for Kids with Special Needs

Ahola-Sidaway, Janice

Fonseca, Sandra

When Schooling is Not Enough: Support, Empowerment and Social Regulation of the Teen Mother in Contemporary Canada

M. Lindsay
					, reviewed by Gail

 Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering        281 
Book Reviews
to this reviewer. It was found, for example, that mothers who had control over 
their work schedule and autonomy in their position had children who were 
considered more academically competent by their kindergarten teachers. The 
researchers further found that “regardless of the number of hours fathers work 
outside the home, their psychological investment in their work may have potential 
benefits for their children’s development and their life as a family” (248). 
I question the value of these findings for many North American families. 
First, these results are aligned with the social belief that a mother’s first priority 
is her family. Second, this “ideal” scenario only seems possible for families that 
are financially secure. Finally, and most importantly, these findings reinforce 
traditional gender roles, where the father’s main contribution is his ability to 
provide for the family and the mother’s is to be accessible to her children for 
nurturance.
Especially useful are the four recommendations presented in the “inte-
gration” section of the text. First, the researchers confirm that it is possible 
to identify children at risk for academic and social problems. Second, they 
enumerate important opportunities for preventative intervention with families 
around the transition to elementary school. Third, they argue that study of 
low-income populations is needed. Finally, they recommend increased family-
based interventions. Although there is preventative support in place for families 
who are “high risk,” little to no research has been conducted to determine its 
efficacy. Moreover, these supports are not readily available to the general public. 
The researchers argue for the need to understand the already implemented 
supports so that they can be extended to all families. 
This work encourages further quantitative research in the field. As a scholarly 
work, however, it will not appeal to practitioners or the general public.
Nancy Gerber says Losing a Life is the story of her father’s stroke and the in-
tervening six years prior to his death in 2001. I would argue that it is equally 
the story of a father and daughter, of a daughter’s struggle to grow up, and 
of one family’s experience of the American health care system. In fact, there 
seem to be many lives lost.
As an academic, Gerber turns her family experience into a book that 
Losing a Life: A Daughter’s Memoir of Caregiving
Nancy Gerber.
Lanham, Maryland: Hamilton Books, 2005.
Reviewed by Gail M. Lindsay
282        Volume 9, Number 2
Book Reviews
she intends as a public service. Gerber reflects on her father’s unanticipated 
stroke, the immediate changes in all relationships within the family, and the 
socio-economic implications of homecare. She thinks out loud about how “we 
have no prayers or rituals for the death of someone who hasn’t died” (3). She 
calls herself a dutiful daughter and documents the struggle to be a wife, par-
ent, doctoral student, sister, daughter, and individual whose consciousness is 
awakened as the paterfamilias becomes dependent on others. The book probes 
two key questions: What occurs when an adult daughter’s already full life must 
suddenly accommodate an ill father and concern for her caregiving mother? 
How does the daughter sustain her own life when her primary relationships, 
at least temporarily, are with her parents?
What stands out for this reader is how Gerber weaves her father’s history 
as a German Jew and an American immigrant into the story of his stroke and 
its impact on her mother. Her father is assaulted, first by the stroke and then 
by the health care system. In her description of the aftermath of the stroke, 
Gerber embeds the story of her mother’s day-to-day life. But Gerber’s rela-
tionship with her mother is not developed in this book. Rather, she shows a 
father who is self-determined at the expense of his wife, and a daughter who 
is torn in two and living a paradox, a disjunction; Gerber “can’t find the words 
to describe my feelings. Ordinary language is not sufficient” (50).
Gerber admits that she feels responsible for and compelled to care for her 
father, but she also acknowledges her naiveté and that she is configured as the 
heroine of the story she writes. Based on Ray’s definition of caregiving as “an 
activity that involves intimacy and connection, in which care is given freely,” 
Gerber identifies herself as a caregiver. I am unconvinced, however, that Gerber 
actually fits the definition. As her book shows through wrenching examples, 
care for her father is necessary, required, and urgent, but women are not always 
in a position to give it freely. 
Award-winning poet Paola Corso’s first collection of short fiction offers a va-
riety of feminine perspectives from different life stages. Set in working-class 
Italian neighbourhoods in the Pittsburgh area, the ten stories are narrated by 
a variety of women and girls who offer views of the ordinary with occasional 
dashes of magical realism. The volume begins and ends with narratives by 
Giovanna’s 86 Circles and Other Stories
Paola Corso.
Madison, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 2005.
Reviewed by Roxanne Harde 
