Looking At the Vaccine Debate From a Different Angle
On February 12, 2015, my little Mini turns one. I think most parents can agree that the first
year of their child’s life is the fastest year of their lives. It seems like
only minutes ago that we were watching The
Bachelor and I was pacing uncomfortably around my living room, Husband
convinced this thing was about to happen and me convinced that I had just eaten
too many Oreos. I had gone back and
forth over whether or not I wanted my mom in the delivery room with us, but at 4
AM I was on the phone begging her to get in her car and drive up from Virginia
just as fast as those four wheels could get her to New York City. Someday I may write in more detail about my
labor – the overcrowded hospital, the sudden onset preeclampsia, the Olympic
pairs figure skating on the TV in the background, the med student witnessing his first
delivery – but as I reflect on this past year, no moment is more important than
the moment they plopped that wriggly little six pounder in my arms and told me
I was a mom.
Please excuse the tragic hospital hair.
In the last twelve months, I’ve done things I never said I
would, or not done all the things I was sure I would. I swore up and down I would never breastfeed
on the subway. That lasted about two
months (thanks Hooter Hider!). I swore
I would never put the baby in the bed with us.
Luckily she sleeps great in her crib, but sometimes there are late
nights (and early mornings) where Mini just needs Mama and Dada on either side
of her. Who knows what I will or won’t
do in the future as we move forward, but here again my mantra rings true – all
we can do is the best we can do.
I was hesitant to wander into the vaccine debate raging
around the country right now, but as we get ready to take Mini for her MMR
vaccine, I thought about whether or not this was something I’d be willing to
waver on. Personally, I am 100%
comfortable with our decision to vaccinate, just as I’m sure those families who
have decided against it are with their choice not to. I recently saw an interview with an Arizona
doctor, who chooses not to vaccinate his children and keep them “pure” (that’s
an interesting reference, but I digress), and also spoke quite plainly about
not caring whether or not his children made other children ill. Is that really the kind of attitude we want
to teach children in our society, that it doesn’t matter what you do to someone
else? Take away the vaccine issue and insert another topic. If you have more than enough food for your
child, do you not care if another child goes hungry? If your child is getting a
quality education, do you not care if another child gets no education? Whatever
happened to “it takes a village to raise a child?” Must I accept a society
wherein it’s okay for someone to say we shouldn’t care about one another?
I’m never going to be a perfect mother or make all the
perfect choices, but I’m trying my hardest to put something good into the
world. I want to contribute to the
village, and let the village shape who we are as a family and who Mini will
grow to be as an individual. I want to
raise her to share her toys, play with the other kids on the playground, and
stand up to bullies. I want her to
volunteer with those who are less fortunate and be reminded that just because
she “has,” not only is she no better than the “have-nots,” but there is reward
in doing good for others. I want her to see the value in young women who spread
joy, love, and positivity.
My understanding and interpretation of this poem by John
Donne, which I first read in high school, has changed and evolved over the years,
but it’s always something I think back to when I find myself losing sight of
the bigger picture. I’m not here to tell
anyone what to do or not do. I’m only
here to say I want to be in this village with you because I care about you and
your family, and I hope the feeling is mutual.
No man is an
island,
Entire of
itself,
Every man is
a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be
washed away by the sea,
Europe is
the less.
As well as
if a promontory were.
As well as
if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine
own were:
Any man’s
death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind;
And therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
On February 12, 2015, my little Mini turns one. I think most parents can agree that the first
year of their child’s life is the fastest year of their lives. It seems like
only minutes ago that we were watching The
Bachelor and I was pacing uncomfortably around my living room, Husband
convinced this thing was about to happen and me convinced that I had just eaten
too many Oreos. I had gone back and
forth over whether or not I wanted my mom in the delivery room with us, but at 4
AM I was on the phone begging her to get in her car and drive up from Virginia
just as fast as those four wheels could get her to New York City. Someday I may write in more detail about my
labor – the overcrowded hospital, the sudden onset preeclampsia, the Olympic
pairs figure skating on the TV in the background, the med student witnessing his first
delivery – but as I reflect on this past year, no moment is more important than
the moment they plopped that wriggly little six pounder in my arms and told me
I was a mom.
Please excuse the tragic hospital hair.
In the last twelve months, I’ve done things I never said I
would, or not done all the things I was sure I would. I swore up and down I would never breastfeed
on the subway. That lasted about two
months (thanks Hooter Hider!). I swore
I would never put the baby in the bed with us.
Luckily she sleeps great in her crib, but sometimes there are late
nights (and early mornings) where Mini just needs Mama and Dada on either side
of her. Who knows what I will or won’t
do in the future as we move forward, but here again my mantra rings true – all
we can do is the best we can do.
I was hesitant to wander into the vaccine debate raging
around the country right now, but as we get ready to take Mini for her MMR
vaccine, I thought about whether or not this was something I’d be willing to
waver on. Personally, I am 100%
comfortable with our decision to vaccinate, just as I’m sure those families who
have decided against it are with their choice not to. I recently saw an interview with an Arizona
doctor, who chooses not to vaccinate his children and keep them “pure” (that’s
an interesting reference, but I digress), and also spoke quite plainly about
not caring whether or not his children made other children ill. Is that really the kind of attitude we want
to teach children in our society, that it doesn’t matter what you do to someone
else? Take away the vaccine issue and insert another topic. If you have more than enough food for your
child, do you not care if another child goes hungry? If your child is getting a
quality education, do you not care if another child gets no education? Whatever
happened to “it takes a village to raise a child?” Must I accept a society
wherein it’s okay for someone to say we shouldn’t care about one another?
I’m never going to be a perfect mother or make all the
perfect choices, but I’m trying my hardest to put something good into the
world. I want to contribute to the
village, and let the village shape who we are as a family and who Mini will
grow to be as an individual. I want to
raise her to share her toys, play with the other kids on the playground, and
stand up to bullies. I want her to
volunteer with those who are less fortunate and be reminded that just because
she “has,” not only is she no better than the “have-nots,” but there is reward
in doing good for others. I want her to see the value in young women who spread
joy, love, and positivity.
My understanding and interpretation of this poem by John
Donne, which I first read in high school, has changed and evolved over the years,
but it’s always something I think back to when I find myself losing sight of
the bigger picture. I’m not here to tell
anyone what to do or not do. I’m only
here to say I want to be in this village with you because I care about you and
your family, and I hope the feeling is mutual.
No man is an
island,
Entire of
itself,
Every man is
a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be
washed away by the sea,
Europe is
the less.
As well as
if a promontory were.
As well as
if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine
own were:
Any man’s
death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind;
And therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
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