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

Thomas, Trudelle

Book Reviews 
Motherlove: Reinventing a Good and Blessed 
Future for Our Children 
Esther Davis-Thompson 
Philadelphia: Innisfree Press, 1999 
Reviewed by Trudelle Thomas 
Motherlove opens with a poem by Lucille Clifton that captures the uplifting 
spirit ofthe book: "Come celebrate/with me that everyday/ something has tried 
to lull me/ and has failed." This is a devotional book that promotes a strong and 
empowering spirituality, rooted in an African American Christian tradition. 
The author values shared mothering and acknowledges the difficulty of 
mothering in a hostile environment. She promotes a spirituality that values 
human dignity, self-assertion in the face of injustice, and spiritual empower- 
ment of both self and children (not self-abnegation). Davis- Thompson's 
emphasis on power and on "collective motherspace" makes me think of the 
workof sociologist Patrica Hill Collins, who says that such qualities distinguish 
how African American women define motherhood. 
In her introduction Davis- Thompson writes, "We have to start running 
headlong into the Spirit for the only safe vehicle to carry us, and our children, 
into the future ... We ourselves need a strong, positive, unshakable self image ... 
W e  must feed ourselves a daily diet ofHope, Faith, Courage, Lovingkindness." 
She writes from experience; she is pictured at the back of the book with her 
husband and ten children, ranging in age from 3 to 21. She has a degree in 
English and a teaching certificate in Early Childhood Education. In addition 
to raising children, she teaches college and writes freelance. 
This book is organized along the same lines as other devotional "one-day- 
at-a-time" books with 120 entries, each a page or so long meant to be read easily 
in one sitting. I t  is divided into two sections, each of which includes sixty 
meditations. The first half, "Motherspace," focuses on strengtheningone's own 
spirituality through roots, self-care spiritual-nourishment, "Collective 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 175 
Book Reviews 
Motherspace," etc. In this section, Davis- Thompson urges mothers to 
meditate to be kind to themselves, and to "settle yourself into the womb of 
God's sweet motherlove." The second half of the book, "Motherlove," focuses 
on a mother's relationship with her children (of all ages), with themes including 
dicipline, influences, authority, and spiritual inheritance. She uses inclusive 
language throughout. 
Most meditations are proceeded by a quotation and followed by a brief 
&rmation, such as "I will point my child in the direction ofhis honorable self." 
Davis- Thompson quotes a rich variety of sources, including Audre Lorde, 
Renita Weems, Wayne Dwyer, DeepakChopra, andT.D. Jakes. There are also 
many biblical quotations. The book is beautifully put together with a colourfil 
mural on the cover by African American artist Kimberly Camp; Gracing many 
of the pages are black and white African-inspired graphics. 
There is nothing radical or earth-shaking about this book. The author is 
articulating for contemporary mothers a long standing tradition and she 
admirably hlfills her purpose of inspiring readers. I found myself wishing for 
more details, anecdotes, and illustrations. The book does not attempt to be 
scholarly, analytical, or even narrative; it is pithy, terse, and wise. It  is superior 
to other similar books because it is so unsentimental; it does not idealize self- 
sacrifice or submission to men (the way so many devotional books do), and it 
is not at all legalistic. This is valuable reading for any mother (including Euro- 
Americans) who want daily inspiration for the gritty work of raising children 
today, especially those who were not nurtured well themselves. It  speaks to 
"other mothers" such as fathers, teachers, mentors, and grandparents.,Indi- 
rectly, it will interest scholars who seekinsight into African American spiritu- 
ality. 
Motherlove is being marketed to African American mothers of all ages 
(including teen mothers, battered women, and low-income women); the 
publisher also promotes workshops by the author and a book-donation 
program for needy women. 
Mothering: Ideology, Experience, and Agency 
E. N. Glenn, G. Chang and L. R. Forcey, Eds. 
New York: Routledge, 1994 
Reviewed by Leigh M. O'Brien 
This book brings together an interdisciplinary group of scholars who "provide 
a variety of perspectives on mothering as a socially constructed set of activities 
and relationships" (X). The first chapter, which serves as an introduction, 
176 1 Volume 3, Number 2 


English

Motherlove: Reinventing a Good and Blessed Future for Our Children

Horwitz, Erika

Book Reviews 
reveal when we wish to tell another who we really are?" Katie tells Ellen about 
her family, her relationship with her lover Cara, and her participation in the 
"Lesbian Avengers." Questions of identity, inexorably linked with adoption, 
recur in Katie's dialogue. Over the course of the year, Katie comes to realize the 
profound impact that being adopted has had on her life. Ellen's early letters tell 
the story of Katie's birth and how she came to give up her daughter for 
adoption. Ellen provides a personal glimpse into the history of adoption in the 
U.S. in the late 1960s. She articulates the shame associated with becoming 
pregnant out of wedlock; her lack of control; and the pain she felt when sent 
away from her family. 
Ellen and Katie's letters, emails, and phone calls eventually lead to a 
meeting. The book's climax takes place offstage as details of their meeting are 
revealed only in letters. Pictures of Katie and Ellen together signify their 
reunion. The second halfofthe bookshows the difficultiesin reunions between 
birthmothers and their children. Overwhelmed, Katie withdraws from Ellen to 
sort out her feelings. Eventually, she and Ellen are able to establish a solid 
friendship and arrange for subsequent meetings. Their discussion about 
adoption continues, however,since Katie's brother Matt is also searching for his 
birthmother. Matt's search for his birthmother, which results in rejection, 
provides a much-needed counterpart to Katie and Ellen's success story. In an 
afterward to the letters, the women assess their relationship and their journey. 
Katie reveals that her adoptive mother has been terribly hurt by Katie's search 
and subsequent relationship with Ellen. 
This book is an absolute must for anyone seeking a birthmother and for 
readers concerned with mother-daughter relationships. Reunion, makes clear 
that the process of uniting a birthmother with her child can come with a 
tremendous price- a price which many are willing and eager to pay. To  
paraphrase Katie Hern, I too have become aware that, in addition to all the 
good, adoption involves a tremendous loss. 
Raising Up Queens: 
Loving Our Daughters Loud and Strong 
Esther Davis-Thompson 
Philadelphia: Innisfree Press, 2000 
Reviewed by Erika Howitz  
In Raising Up Queens, Esther Davis-Thompson takes on the difficult task of 
voicing the experience ofraising daughters. She speaks to blackwomen oftheir 
struggles as mothers and women in North America. Davis-Thompson talks 
Journal ofthe Associationfor Research on Mothering / 181 
Book Reviews 
about the importance of pride in being a woman and a mother. She discusses 
the struggles in destructive marriages where women are treated as punching 
bags and end up broken. Davis-Thompson provides her readers with a 
fascinating look at the experience of depression and pain, and suggests that 
depression may be one way a woman can slow down to listen to her inner self. 
The author also addresses the unforgiving aspects of a culture where black 
women have children during adolescence without having the chance to finish 
high school. Their dreams and hopes become shattered and their growth 
becomes stunted by the guilt that overtakes them. Davis-Thompson encour- 
ages her readers to rise above guilt, to listen to their pain, and learn the lessons 
and strengths it brings. 
The book is abound with words of wisdom. Davis-Thompson believes 
mothers should speak to their daughters so that their daughters can voice their 
feelings. She suggests that we can help our daughters develop into strong, self- 
loving women by taking an inner journey and acknowledging our own pain, 
values, limitations, and love. 
Raising Up Queens focuses on mothers as the main driving force in our 
daughters, development. Even though mothers are ever-present in their girls' 
lives, there are many other factors that influence development. If "mothers are 
the garden we grew in" (121), it is important to note that gardens grow in a vast 
soil. W e  must avoid placing sole responsibility for a daughter's development on 
her mother. 
Boys Will Be Men: 
Raising Our Sons for Courage, Caring, 
and Community 
Paul Kivel 
Gabriola Island, B.C.: New Society Publishers, 1999 
Reviewed by Marybeth Holleman 
When I gave birth to my son nearly ten years ago, I began a search for books 
thatwould help me raise him to be emotionally, mentally, and physicallywhole- 
outside of the burdens and boundaries of stereotypic masculinity. I bristled at 
terms like "mama's boy," as I did at suggestions of well-meaning friends and 
relatives that I should stop breast-feeding, "especially since he's a boy." Instead, 
we took our son's name, James, and called him Jamie- both because of its 
gender-neutrality and because it suits him. I nursed him until he was five, still 
let him sleep with me when he wants, and cuddle him every morning. 
Kivel's Boys WiIIBe Men, is one of the books for which I searched then, but 
in vain. I t  follows in a long-overdue line of books about raising boys to be 
compassionate and responsible human beings. Extending from and comple- 
182 1 Volume 3, Number 2 


Raising Up Queens: Loving Our Daughters Loud and Strong

Kruk, Laurie

Laurie Kruk 
Elena Cries 
for 40 piano-wire-tight minutes 
this first bravely scheduled night: 
she sirens her solitude, face a boiled plum, 
cries uncoiled between breaths, when she sinks 
in woe's depths and we throb, swallow longing. Awaiting 
the spiking febrile return 
of another wave's crash 
against arterial walls. Tiny pure voice riding 
arpeggios of mucoused rage, 
cruel crescendoes of weeping, 
leonine roars of wilder wonder: where has 
the worldgone? where are the strong hands 
that held, patted? breasts' warm oceans of milk 
I swam in, sea by sea? 
we hang staring eyes 
on neon numbers 
12:25 12:33 
handrails of sanity 
as we stiffen on the edge 
of twenty minutes' cradle-rocking 
till eyes glue shut with tears, hands lift 
in surrender 
and twenty minutes of dry racked sniffles 
reproach the quiet 
of soul's stilled lament 
Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering 1 213 
this is the birth of pain, I reflect as we sink 
into darkness, preparing to drown, to follow 
your still rocking vessel, 
wrecked off the shore of desolation: 
little girl, rolled off the edge 
of the world 
into a universe 
empty of rescuing arms and soft breasts, 
black as your mother's heart 
as she rocks and watches the clock, 
counting out the misery, 
turning to stone, slowly, 
from the head down. Whispering to the night, 
you are not the on+ new born 
to loss. 
214 1 Volume 3, Number I 


Elena Cries

Ballard, Nancer

Nancer Ballard 
The Fruit of the 
Trouble Tree 
As a child, I had only the vaguest notion ofhow my life as an adult would unfold. 
My parents didn't have a particularly close relationship-my father traveled 
and my mother seemed to be unhappy and out-of-sorts a lot. I couldn't imagine 
growing up and creating a family like my own. In college I realized I was a 
lesbian, and assumed without thinking about it, that being a lesbian meant that 
you wouldn't have children. My primary concern at the time was whether I 
would ever feel comfortable anywhere, so the prospect of not having children 
was not something I gave more than a passing thought. In fact, the idea that I 
would not have children was almost a relief. I could picture being Mary Poppins 
much more readily than I could picture being Mrs. Ward Cleaver. 
In 1979 when I was 25, I began dating a Canadian. Twice a month Terry 
or I would drive from Quebec to Boston or vice versa for a long weekend. Then 
- 
one Friday, Terry's car was selected for a random border check. An American 
customs and immigration officer noticed her journal, brought her into a little 
office where he leisurely perused it, and accused her of being a lesbian. 
Although she neither confirmed nor denied the accusation, her silence was 
viewed as admission and she was denied entry into the United States. W e  spent 
a lot of time and energy during the next five years trying to figure out how to 
be together in the same country. Eventually, Terrygot ajob in the United States 
and was granted permanent residency status on the grounds that she was 
irreplaceable to her American employer. Meanwhile, I went to law school and 
then to work for a large Boston law firm. We spent a lot of time on our work 
lives. Then I got sick. 
In 1989 I was taken from my office by ambulance for emergencyabdominal 
surgery. A year later I faced a second operation for what we believed was 
aggressive endometriosis. Then while waiting to be scheduled for the opera- 
104 1 Volume 3, Number 1 
tion, I was diagnosed with advanced cervicalpre-cancer. Although I do not take 
cervical cancer lightly, the oncologist's concern that I might have ovarian 
cancer, rather than endometriosis, was much more alarming. 
After our first meeting with the oncologist, Terry and I walked across the 
street to an outdoor cafe to talk. Somehow, in the course of that conversation 
we decided that if1 came through the operation andwas healthy, we would have 
a child. In some ways our decision to have a child came out ofthe blue, in some 
ways not. One of my best friends, another lesbian lawyer, had had a child two 
years earlier with her partner. Also, Terry and I had begun attending a 
Unitarian Universalist Church in our community. The congregation was 
relatively small and welcomed us, its only lesbian members. We volunteered on 
some ofthe children's programs and I began writing stories for the kids. During 
a service, one of the mothers announced spontaneously from the pulpit that she 
wished Terry and I would have kids, we would make wonderful parents. I was 
shocked and surprised again when a number of other people in the congregation 
repeated this sentiment in subsequent weeks. 
When Terry and I decided to become parents, it seemed both momentous 
and like we could easily change our minds. We had decided that I would bear 
the child because I was, by nature, more career-centered and more sensitive to 
exclusion than Terry. However, by then I was a junior partner at my law firm, 
and although I had never lied about my lifestyle, I was conscious of notwanting 
to appear "too different." I knew that becoming pregnant would mean I might 
not be promoted to senior partner. Since relativelyfewlawyers at large law firms 
become senior partners, if I became pregnant and was not promoted I would 
never knowwhether itwas because I was alesbian, because I was unmarried and 
pregnant, because anyone pregnant would be perceived as less committed to the 
firm, or whether I simply would not have been promoted in any event. The 
decision to have a child also meant that Terry and I would never again have the 
same choices about "passing" or letting other people assume we had opposite- 
sex partners since this could be perceived by our child as a sign that there was 
something "wrong" or "less than" about having two parents of the same gender. 
I also wondered what impact having a child would have on our gay and lesbian 
friendships. Although we knew a few lesbian couples who either had children 
or were considering it, the majority of our gay and lesbian friends did not have 
children in their lives on a regular basis. However, since we were facing the 
possibility of cancer, these considerations seemed rather remote. 
When I awoke from the second operation Terry looked at me and said, 
"there's no cancer." I looked at her. "So, we're going to try to have a baby?!" The 
surgeon told us we had ayear to conceive before the endometriosis would return 
and make my getting pregnant impossible. After eleven months the fertility 
drugs caused my endometriosis to flare up and Terry and I decided to begin the 
adoption process at the end of that month. 
On the evening before we were to go for my last insemination, a huge snow 
storm blanketed Boston. Radio newscasters reported that the whole downtown 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 105 
Nancer Ballard 
area was closed and only emergency vehicles would be permitted on the roads 
the following morning. Terry and I had already let go of our attachment to 
bearing a child and perfunctorily telephoned the clinic to find out if fertility 
services were going to be open the next day. A receptionist told us that no one 
in the area was able to get in, but there was a nurse in Rhode Island with a Land 
Rover who was going to drive up. This seemed extreme to me, and I marveled 
at the nurse's dedication to a process in which the odds seemed extremely long. 
Nonetheless, if she was going to drive up from Rhode Island, certainlywe could 
get ourselves into Boston from a suburb. 
Two weeks later, the little minus sign on the pregnancy indicator turned 
to plus. Terry and I looked at the little cross for 20 minutes before we could 
believe it wasn't going to disappear ifwe set the test kit down. She wanted to 
frame it. I wanted to sew it to the inside of my pocket. For two or three days 
we walked on water. 
That spring I was nominated for senior partner. In the weeks before the 
vote, I bought non-maternity clothes with bigger and bigger shoulder pads. 
When I was four-and-a-half months pregnant, I was elected senior partner. A 
week-and-a-half later I told the firm's Managing Partner. When the amnio- 
centesis test came backnormal we sent flowers to everyone at the fertility clinic. 
Then we told our families. 
Terry's father responded as ifthe news had nothing to do with him, or her, 
since I was going to bear the child. My mother announced that we couldn't have 
a child; we were being selfish and "it would be too hard on the child." I told her 
we would give the child lots of love, our church was supportive, we had lesbian 
friends who were having children, and we could provide financial stability. 
These things didn't matter. Finally, I told my mother that if she was going to 
be so judgmental she couldn't come to visit because we didn't want our child to 
be ashamed ofhim or herself, or ofus. At that point she changed her mind. My 
father, who had never been very emotionally involved in my upbringing, was 
surprisingly positive. 
W e  had a diverse group in our birthing class. There was a couple who had 
very recently immigrated from India, a young couple from Florida who were 
sharecroppers, a woman whose husband was the CFO for a telecommunications 
companywho brought a series of potential labour coaches to the class because 
her husband was usually out of town, and a man and woman in their mid-30s 
who were expecting twins. We gamely practiced breathing, passed around the 
epidural needle, and were skeptical of the teacher's statement that birthing a 
baby was like running a marathon. The analogy terrified the non-runners who 
could not imagine running 26 miles and who recalled that the original mara- 
thon runner had died upon completion of the course. I couldn't see how anyone 
could train for a marathon by sitting on the floor, pretending to be in pain, while 
shouting out little syllables that begin with "h." 
I suppose the first 22 hours of my labour could be likened to running five 
marathons with mind-splitting abdominal cramps. But then the situation 
106 1 Volume 3, Number 1 
Fruit of the Trouble Tree 
began to deteriorate. My contractions slowed. At first, I didn't care, the relief 
was so profound, but I was soon reminded by the hospital midwife that 
contractions are supposed to be stronger and longer at the end. I could see from 
the fetal monitor that the contractions were not only slowing down, but also 
growing weaker. She put me on an intravenous drip of pitocin, a drug used to 
induce or to speed up labour by intensifying contractions. Sure enough, my 
contractions intensified but Terry and I immediately noticed a marked drop in 
the fetal heartbeat rate on the monitor. My blood pressure also began to drop. 
When it hit 70 over 46, a nurse put epinephrine into my IV. 
A few minutes later, Terry and I watched the baby's heart rate fall from 
140 to 120 then to 1 0 F i f  it goes below 90, go get the nurse," I said as we 
watchedit slide toward 80. Two nurses rushed in and cutthe pitocin. The baby's 
heartbeat returned but, of course, my contractions diminished. The midwife 
began reintroducing the pitocin one drop at a time every halfhour. Alone in the 
deliveryroom, Terry and I watched the monitor drop to 120, then 100, then 90 
and then 80 and then 70 . . . I started to say, "now.. ." to Terrywho alreadywas 
on her feet headed for the door. She didn't make it to the door. The midwife, 
the nurses, two anesthesiologists, the chiefresiden, and a couple ofother people 
bolted into the room. Someone clamped an oxygen mask over my face and I 
heard someone else say she was shutting down the pitocin. I vaguely knew the 
chief resident and midwife were discussing whether to do an emergency c- 
section. The chief resident tried to get a blood sample from our son's head to 
find out whether his blood was sufficiently oxygenated, but could only draw a 
few drops of clear fluid because the head was swollen from bumping against the 
cervix for so long. I started to shake. The doctor told Terry to tell me that it was 
important that I remain calm. Otherwise, the baby could be adversely affected. 
I did as I was told, convinced that no good was going to come of this. One or 
both ofus weren't going to make it. I remember thinking very clearly, without 
altruism or common sense, "let it be me [who goes]." How strong instinct beats 
within us-saving a child, even one I didn't know, trumped all that I did know. 
Eventually they stabilized the heart rate. The head resident suggested a 
caesarian. Although no one said it, we all knew a caesarian was inevitable. The 
midwife's and the anaesthesiologist's shifts had ended and the head resident 
was near the end of her 24-hour shift. T o  my surprise, the midwife (who was 
also a nurse as it turned out) asked if she could stay and assist with the caesarian. 
The anesthsiologist volunteered to stay also. After the "first cut," she brought 
Terry into the operating room so Terry could watch the birth. The doctor 
unwound the umbilical chord that was wrapped around the baby's shoulders 
like a straitjacket and had prevented him from descending through the birth 
canal without suffocating. Then we heard a cry, and life took hold. 
Once I heard a story about a town where the people were consumed by all 
their difficulties. A rabbi comes to the village and tells the people to take their 
troubles to a magic tree on the outskirts of town. He tells them that they can 
hang all of their own troubles on the branches of the tree and pick out someone 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 107 
Nancer Ballard 
else's instead. O n  the appointed day, everyone goes to the tree and there is much 
discussion and debate regarding what other trouble each might pick, But at the 
end of the day they all leave with the same problems they brought. When I first 
heard the story I couldn't understand why. When I recounted the story to a 
therapist I knew, she told me that everyone wanted their own troubles because 
they were familiar, but I found this explanation unsatisfying and grim. Later, 
I decided it was because you can see the gifts in your own challenges and 
troubles and when the time came to give up their difficulties, itwas the gifts that 
they did not want to give up. And so it has been with us. 
As a member of a minority in the general culture, and as mothers in the gay 
and lesbian culture, there are difficulties but there are also great gifts. As part 
of the first generation of lesbians who can choose openly to have a child 
together, my partner and I have the gift of being mothers and feeling a bond 
that I could never have quite imagined or believed until I experienced it. There 
are gifts of kindness and affirmation-like the nurse in Rhode Island with the 
Land Rover, and like the chief resident, midwife, and anesthesiologist who 
stayed hours past the end oftheir long shifts to perform the cesarian and be with 
Terry and me when our son was born. There's the bond one has with other 
parents, a bond that time and time again shows itself to be stronger and more 
enduring than people's unconsidered prejudices. There's the wonder and awe 
you feel with children that are not your own, and there are the gifts of diversity, 
including our particular diversity which presents huge opportunities for fluid 
role and skill modeling because nothing we do as a parent is automatically 
associated with a particular gender. There's the gift of having to be braver about 
coming out and seeing that it often yields positive results or that adverse 
reactions frequently change quickly, and there is the gift of being committed 
bone deep every day of your life to shaping and reflecting a world where 
differences are interesting and wondrous-and seeing over and over that it does 
make a difference in the lives you and your child touch, right now, in your own 
lifetime. 
108 1 Volume 3, Number 1 


Fruit of the Trouble Tree

White, Marybeth

Book Reviews 
The reader is taken on an intriguing path into some very particular styles 
of childrearing. The great achievement of this book is that through its rich 
ethnographic detail we are able to understand apparently "strange" practices in 
their own contexts, by taking into account climate, belief system, family 
structure, economy, religion, history, etc. W e  are thus invited to make the 
strange familiar, and in doing so, our own familiar practices are rendered just 
that little bit strange. 
Bestfeeding: Getting Breastfeeding Right For You 
An Illustrated Guide 
Mary Renfrew, Chloe Fisher, and Suzanne Arms 
Celestial Arts Publishing Company, 1996 
Reviewed by Marybet h White 
Breastfeeding evokes many scenarios, from the romantized image ofa newborn 
nuzzled against the skin, nursing contentedly by a crisp fire to the agony of 
cracked and bleeding nipples, and an unsatisfied babe. Frequently a woman's 
perception will be shaped by the breastfeeding environment she has (or has not) 
been exposed to. Three women have collaborated in writing Bestfeeding: 
Getting Breastfeeding Right for You. The authors bring a vast amount of 
experience to their project, which includes stories from families they have 
worked with. Their combined knowledge spans three countries and diverse 
perspectives on breastfeeding. 
The book is divided into sections: 
Why Women Want to Breastfeed 
How to Breastfeed 
Problems: Their Causes and Solutions. 
The book explores the impact of cultural perceptions on the relative 
success of breastfeeding. The emphasis throughout the volume is on the 
nursing relationship between mother and baby. The authors convey the 
uniqueness of each nursing pair. They advocate the validity of a mother's 
feelings andunderscore the criticalimportance ofsupport for each breastfeeding 
relationship. There is a section on special concerns such as HIV, inverted 
nipples, and premature babies. 
Most inspiring are the case studies which give life to the physical process 
of breastfeeding by providing a window onto families of newborns willing to 
share their personal experiences. The authors have compiled an index of 
resources including "Where to Find Help" (an international listing), "Groups 
that Assist Parents of Babies with Special Needs," "Breastpump Suppliers," 
"Books You Might Find Helpful," and an "Index of Commonly Asked 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 229 
Book Reviews 
Questions." The cross-referencing system is extremely thorough, providing 
quickaccess to the heart of a matter and guiding the reader to other appropriate 
sections. 
The book is accurate in its information. There are a few areas, however, 
which require elaboration. Two such points are nipple confusion and growth 
spurts. Nipple confusion is experienced by an infant when he/she has been 
exposed to both artificial and human nipples. I t  is especially prevalent in the 
first sixweeks oflife. In the section "Things You Might Need to Know," nipple 
confusion is mentioned briefly. There also is no information provided on 
growth spurts. These occur around the second week, sixth week, third month, 
sixth month, and every six months thereafter. Most crucial to sustained 
breastfeedingis the realization that a baby is in a growth spurt during the second 
weekoflife. For aperiod of approximately24-48 hours, a babywillwant to feed 
frequently. While the authors discuss the supply-and-demand mechanics of 
breastfeeding they do not mention the specific times when a baby is working 
to increase a mother's milk supply. Frequently it is during these intervals that 
mothers are told, they are "running out of milk." Many women supplement 
with formula at this time, which is counterproductive to increasing their milk 
supply. 
Itwould have been helpful to include a list ofcommon irritants to an infant 
when ingested by the mother; for example, chocolate, strawberries, cabbage, 
and cow's milk. In addition, the lack of reference to licenced homeopaths and 
naturopaths asviable health practitioners continues to advocate the established 
medical community as the only voice of authority. 
Overall, this book is a useful publication which sheds light on the 
interconnectedness between successful breastfeeding and a supportive culture. 
By questioning cultural norms and women's ability to make an informed 
choice, the book explores the assumptions and myths prevalent in our society 
which jeopardize the breastfeeding relationship. 
In Her Own Voice: 
Childbirth Stories from Mennonite Women 
Katherine Martens and Heidi Harms, eds. 
Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1997 
Reviewed by Heather Mains 
What can we learn from three generations of women recounting their birth 
stories? This is the question that I repeatedly asked myself as I read I n  Her Own 
230 1 Volume 3, Number 1 


Bestfeeding: Getting Breastfeeding Right for You

Fox, Faulkner

Book Reviews 
Kitzinger, Sheila. 1987. Giving Birth, How it Really Feels. London: Victor 
Gallancz. 
Davis, Linda , Jo-anne Byrne and Susan Cullen. 1992. Women in Labour: 32 
PersonalAccounts ofchildbirth. Melbourne, Australia: The Text Publish- 
ing Co. 
The internet also is a source of birth narratives. A sample of stories told in 
the first person can be found at the following web sites: 
http:/hoards.parentsoup.com/messages/get/psbirthstories19.html, 
http://unassistedchildbirth.com/stories.htm 
http://pages.ivillage.com/misc/coatlicue/index.html 
http://www.compleatmother.corn/birth~stories.htm 
Sleepless Days: 
One Woman's Journey Through Postparturn 
Depression 
Susan Kushner Resnick 
New York: St. Martin's Press, 2000 
Reviewed by Faulkner Fox 
This is a harrowing book. Susan Resnick describes her descent into full-blown 
postpartum depression (PPD) after the birth of her second child, Max. She also 
describes her recovery, aided primarily by the anti-depressant Zoloft. 
Sleepless Days is an informational memoir, meant to help PPD sufferers- 
past, present, and future- understand this oft misdiagnosed disease. Resnick 
appears to position herself as a feminist--although she never uses this word 
directly-shedding light on a critical women's medical issue that has been 
underestimated, ignored, and ill-treated by the male medical establishment. 
When Resnick goes to her family doctor with "an obvious set of PPD 
symptoms'-insomnia, constant anxiety, fear of hurting her baby, thoughts of 
suicide-he tells her she is suffering from "housewife's anxiety" and needs a 
good vacation." He probablywould have added that I needed a good bang had 
he not been trying so hard to appear sensitive," she comments wryly. 
Indeed, this book sheds light on the nature, prevalence, and terror of PPD 
. I initially came upon this book when a friend recommended it a year after I 
fell into a depression I never fully understood, saying "Check this book out. I 
think you had PPD." 
Reading Sleepless Days, I found myself thinking that I had suffered from 
PPD , but according to some of Resnick's designations ofnormal and pathologi- 
232 1 Volume 3, Number l 
Book Reviews 
cal symptons, I am still experiencing it. (My children are now six and three.) As 
evidence ofher recovery from PPD, for example, Resnickdescribes "making real 
food" on an afternoon when she has a babysitter. This is distinguished from 
what she did while depressed: "making some pathetically simple meal like pasta 
and jarred sauce or hot dogs and beans." Cooking could verywell signal mental 
health. Not cooking during precious babysitter time could also, at least to my 
mind, signal mental health. 
My problem with Sleepless Days--and I think this will be of considerable 
concern to feminists-is that Resnick never looks at any of the structural 
stressors that may contribute to PPD. She claims the disease is caused by "a 
combination ofphysiological and psychological factors." Hormonal changes, a 
history of depression, and a controlling personality can all be related to PPD. 
When Resnick gets depressed, she is at home in the suburbs, single- 
handedly caring for an infant and a two-year-old. Her husband, whom she 
portrays as "tremendously supportive," goes to work at 7:45 a.m., never returns 
before 6:15 p.m., and often does not get home until 8:00 p.m. Not once does 
she question their traditional division of labour and whether it may have 
something to do with her depression. (Studies show that rates ofdepression are 
considerablyhigher among stay-at-home mothers than working mothers, even 
when the working mothers are at low-paid andlor high-stress jobs.) Resnick's 
goal, made clear throughout the book, is "to resume my post as a normal, loving 
mother." Is it "normal," I found myselfwondering, that her husband works 10 
1/2 to 12 hours a daywhile she, a well-published journalist, is home alone with 
two children? 
When Resnick asks her husband if he thinks she is going to be okay, he 
answers: 'Well, I think so, but I don't want it to get out of hand so I'm stuck 
raising two kids. You're the glue that holds us together." Resnick, at least as she 
portrays herself in Sleepless Days, is much less prone to resentment than me 
(could unexpressed resentment possibly be a contributing factor to depres- 
sion?), but I enjoyed imagining my response to such a comment: "It is out of 
hand, and I'm out of here. You do what I do 12 hours every day, and see if you 
don't get depressed." 
Of course I am aware that attributing all, or even most, of Resnick's PPD 
to structural inequities between her and her husband is just as near-sighted as 
claiming that PPD is all in a woman's mind. Resnick wants to ascribe her 
recovery primarily to Zoloft, and I do not pretend to know enough about the 
medication to refute her. I agree wholeheartedly with Resnick, howeverk, that 
PPD should be taken seriously and studied fully. I just want to make sure that 
structural factors, such as how household and childcare responsibilities are 
divided, are considered along with the psychological and physiological factors. 
Journal ofthe Association f i r  Research on Mothering 1 233 


Sleepless Days: One Woman’s Journey Through Postpartum Depression

Norman, Renee

Renee Norman 
Giving Birth 
beginning the end of myself 
once known 
the end of the beginning 
of myself 
I have come to be 
forever changed 
forever forever 
blood 
frightens me 
my body blood 
blood leaked and mixed 
with the blood 
of my memories 
underground waves of pain 
course down me 
longer waves 
wilder, pounding, pummelling 
coursing 
cruising 
carlylng 
me on top of pain 
mind above my body 
cheering me on 
watching me keel over 
voices calling me 
forever forever 
Journa/ oftbe Association for Research on Mothering / 55 


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

Not a member yet

Motherlove: Reinventing a Good and Blessed Future for Our Children

Raising Up Queens: Loving Our Daughters Loud and Strong

Elena Cries

Fruit of the Trouble Tree

Bestfeeding: Getting Breastfeeding Right for You

Sleepless Days: One Woman’s Journey Through Postpartum Depression

Giving Birth

More than One, Less than Two: Canadian Poets Becoming Mothers

Labour Signs: The Semiotics of Birthing

An Interpretive Study of the Transition to Motherhood in Contemporary France

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