Sterilising Parents?

I’ve always believed that parenting should be a privilege not a right. I believe that possessing the prerequisite organs to produce children or having access to invitro fertilisation should not give people automatic right to breed. That's my right in a democracy. Unfortunatel democracy works for everyone, even bad parents. Two women in France suffocated their new born babies (several between them). One of them was quoted to have said that two children was enough. Women in this country have dumped babies in cardboard boxes and left them to die. The sympathy is less for the babies and more for the state of mind of these women. Some men are violent to their children or violate them or throw them off bridges. Despite the myths and the emotive issues surrounding parenting, not everyone is suited to it.

That’s why I understood Norman Geschke’s outburst. Geschke is a former Victorian ombudsman who believes that parents who consistently abuse their children should be sterilised. He wrote ‘several scathing reports on child-protection services [or lack of them]. As this was between 1980 and 1994 I assume that he doesn't believe much has changed since that time. Greschke said that 'keeping children with abusive parents is "sentencing" vulnerable kids to a life without proper care.’ My first instinct when I read that he wanted absusive parents sterilised was to want to shout hooray from the rooftops. It was a wonderful fantasy for the two seconds that it lasted. Then I thought it through and I was forced, reluctantly, to disagree.

Love it or hate it, what you get in a Democracy is governments that you can toss out if they do the wrong thing by you and a powerful lobby group called people power. Whenever an issue comes up experts are hauled out to respond with quotes but seem to let it all sink into back into the subconscious once the furore is over. Victoria's Child Safety Commissioner Bernie Geary ‘savaged the concept [of sterilisation] as inhumane.' Stating what’s obvious to the rest of us is one thing, but the public expects more from a Child Safety Commissioner. How much more impressed I would have been had he followed up that statement with an idea for a workable solution on protecting children.

I know about Joe Tucci the Australian Childhood Foundation's chief executive. because he is not only constantly called out for an opinion, but because he is constantly proactively championing for children's rights and pushing for change whether asked for an opinion or not. Tucci doesn’t believe in sterilising abusive parents either, he believes in harsher rules for parents who have a history of abuse. And he wants the rules about terminating rights to be clearer than they currently are. Sounds simple doesn't it?

Here’s an idea. Instead of getting emotive about sterilisation, why don't the experts push for stronger laws that will not hesitate in taking vulnerable children from their abusive parents? No second chances, for heaven’s sake. We jail people who steal money but give abusive parents second chances. How inconsistent is that? Despite the neo-think and neo-babble coming from some quarters, children are not better off with such parents. I suspect part of the problem is that there's not much of an infrastructure in place for those children, which makes it even more reprehensible.

There is a 'paid' and voluntary system of sterilisation in the US, but our democratic rights don't allow for compulsory sterilisation. Sorry Mr Geschke, it’s not going to happen. So now that we have parents' rights all sorted out, why not focus on children. Immediate action without the usual pitty-pattying around political correctness. Surely that’s what most of us want. Why not push for hefty jail sentences? I’m sure the civil libertarians will be up in arms about it all, but let's give them a swift clip across the ears, they will be the first to tell you it didn’t hurt and just maybe it will jog their collective consciences and remind them that the vulnerable are also worthy of their attention.

As I said, it was a nice dream while it lasted, Mr Geschke, but sterilisation is barbaric, it's uncivilised. And for those who disagree, think of this – once you curtail one freedom there’s always going to be some power mad politician taking things a step further. That’s how things get changed, one little step at a time so you don’t realise the intended and or even indirect consequences till it’s too late. Pretty soon, just like Hitler’s Germany, nobody but the blue eyed blonds will be acceptable. And they had better watch out that they don’t get old and grey, because eugenics would be a bright idea waiting to happen just around the corner.

Letting go

I have deleted the original and totally re-written 'When do you let go.' This the great thing about a blog. Once you send your piece off for somebody else to publish, it's no longer your call what happens to it or how it's edited. Hope you like this version better.

When do you let go? It’s a question every mother since the dawn of time has asked herself. As far as I know, no one has come up with the definitive answer yet. Neither had I one Monday morning many years ago. Or maybe it was a Tuesday. When one day merges into the other it’s hard to tell. Whatever the day, my routine was set in stone. I would have been busy counting, changing and soaking nappies. After that I’d feed my child, play with him, clean up after him and prepare his evening meal. The conclusion I came to when a stray thought interrupted my busy routine, was that it was no time to philosophise, there was a seemingly endless vista of years ahead of me, lots of time to work things out. I put off the question, till I could give it my full consideration.

No time to do that on my first child’s first day at kinder. I was too busy dealing with my stressed child. David cried and clutched my hand. I gently disengaged it with some soothing words about our meeting again soon. I did some weeping myself on the way home and wondered why I couldn’t take a leaf out of our cat’s book. We had found a home for her kittens. In only a matter of weeks Toffee had no trouble at all turning a disinterested back on her frolicking children. Given a couple of months more and she wouldn’t have known them had they had passed her in the street. I wiped away the tears and went home to clear up the chaos and get ready for the next round. I didn’t have time for self pity.

There was excitement at the local primary school on David’s first day. We were surrounded by mothers and by hyperactive children. Others, first timers, stood around quietly watching as the veterans gathered in little groups talking and their children who obviously also knew each other played chasey. Not knowing or caring that there was an etiquette to these things, David tried to extricate himself from my grip. He was raring to go and meet these children. He wanted to make friends, and he instinctively knew that hand holding wasn’t what a school boy did. Anyhow why was I keeping him from that big adventure that his dad and I had been preparing him for? I looked at the well scrubbed young man; his usually unruly curls were damped, his crisp white shirt already needed tucking in, grey shorts exposed two skinny little legs, a scabby knee and several bruises. It was obvious that David was ready for school, but was I?

I pushed that thought back into the subconscious void where all uncomfortable thoughts go. My husband and I thought we had prepared for it all, but we hadn’t counted on our own reactions when David came home chattering about the best little teacher in the world. From that time on it was, Miss Smith said, Mr Brown said all the way through primary school. David continued to consult us, but we became increasingly aware that we had competition. Our son’s horizons had expanded and a host of Miss Smiths were going to be vying for our boy’s attention.

Occasionally parents could still be useful, helping out with homework, ironing uniforms and moonlighting as chauffeurs. And what did I think of this or that girl, David wanted to know. He felt a bit awkward and unsure. I took it to mean that I had a mandate to express my thoughts and did it, constantly. But one day he stopped asking or listening. In fact he discouraged any sort of dialogue on the matter. David was making up his own mind about girls and life and the universe. It was devastating to be demoted from a proactive parent to a figurehead, devastating but not sudden. The indicators that my son had become independent of us had been there if I had chosen to take notice.

I'm much wiser after the event. I know now that parenting is a series of letting go. Children know it instinctively, but it’s such a slow process that it takes parents a lot longer to pick up on it. When you begin with vulnerable and reliant children and have committed you life to them for years or even decades, it's hard to notice when they have finally stopped needing us. When they finally distance themselves from us and our windmill arms it's only natural that we are left bereft. I know now that if we play our cards right and constantly remind ourselves that our children are on loan to us only, we could have a life after they have left us. Well, we could have a life till they haul us out of retirement for babysitting duties, but that’s another story.