Before having my son I was a child advocate. From a preschool teacher at 20, I grew to create and run a program for homeless kids at a women's shelter in Portland, Oregon. I was very proud of that position and felt fortunate that I could make a living (not a great living, but a living) doing work that I would have done for free. In fact, I did do it for free until the grant came in to fund my position. That was back in the days when I had time to call my own, you see, and going to school then to work then to the shelter just kept me short of too busy. But then I had Noah. Suddenly, the urgency of shelter work seemed a lot less urgent. I began to resent going to rallies or workshops after-hours and started daydreaming about my baby boy when I should have been writing case histories. So I quit and my little family moved across the country back to our hometown where life was just cheap enough to allow me to be home full-time. I figured that when Noah got a little bigger, I would go back to similar work either paid or volunteer.
I've recently realized, however, that as Noah's gotten a little bigger his demands on my time haven't decreased. I am no closer to being back in the world of child advocacy with kids at risk than I was when I left. But I've also begun to realize that activism for me has taken on new meaning.
My child advocacy is much more personal now and as you know, the personal is political. My mothering decisions (to be at home, to be a freelance writer as well as a mother, to breastfeed past infancy) are political. By living this life, I am stating with conviction that motherhood is important, children are important, things are less important, that work and family do not need to be separate choices. I'm proud of that political statement.
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