Last Friday a friend forwarded me a link to an article titled "Are Pregnant Athletes Selfish?" She guessed correctly that I might have something to say about it. It took one glance at the big black letters of the headline for my hackles to rise. The subtitle, "Olympic curler Kristie Moore is five months pregnant. Is this okay? Our OB/GYN reacts," didn't help calm me down.
Before I could get to the doctor's reaction, my mind fumed over the fallout if indeed this doctor deemed curling too dangerous for a pregnant woman. Among other things, I'd have to guess a good chunk of the world's pregnant women have little if no choice but to haul heavy things while shuffling over ice. It's called "life" for pregnant women in winter.
As it turned it, I had no reason to fume. The doctor affirmed the same thing my OB told me throughout pregnancy. In considering whether or not in fact is was "okay" for Canadian Kristie Moore, who is 51/2 months pregnant and due May 27, to curl—and possibly become the first pregnant woman to win a gold medal—she wrote, "Olympic athletes are presumably some of the most fit people on the planet, so it's absurd to think that curling when you're five months along would do anything but benefit mother and baby. A happy, fit, endorphin-filled mom is a great place for a baby to grow!"
So, that settles that, right? We can watch Moore and her darling baby bump compete with ease, even excitement? And then we can all move on. Or, am I the only who's still bugged by the initial question, especially since it headlined at a presumably "pro-woman" site?
I know I may be knee-jerking here, but I'm so tired of the "selfish" dart that gets flung at pregnant women and moms when they are doing the things they love. And no, I do not mean activities like smoking while pregnant or drinking while driving with kids in the back.
I mean the "selfishness" of doing the things we're called to do that are healthy in body, mind, and spirit, but that may not align with certain cultural ideals. Like competing in the Olympics while some might prefer pregnant women to sit tidy at home, nesting or something.
I have been called selfish as a mom for everything from working for a paycheck to worrying about identity (which I wrote about, in a book, for a paycheck). But the selfish dart-throwing started when I was pregnant with my first son, when I continued to volunteer as a dog walker at the local humane society. Up and down hills. Over snow. Over mud. All the while with a dog tugging at the end of the lead.
Was I selfish? I don't think so, but I was asked that all the time. I loved walking those animals. I was good at it. I consider homeless animals to be among the "least of these" that Jesus speaks of, and felt called to do it.
Knowing this certainly helped shape my answers to the questions I was bombarded with: "What if a dog jumps on your stomach?" "What if you fall?" "What if a dog bites you?" What if. What if. What if.
Yes, what if—for any of us? I'm not saying we should disregard danger, especially as it pertains to children. Like most other mothers, I not only want to safeguard my kids but also want to safeguard myself for my kids! But we often go to extremes. We become so consumed with safety that we often let it override our callings, or what God would have us do, as mothers or otherwise. And getting to a place where we can venture on, without fear, is the antithesis of selfishness. It's living in fear, without trusting God, that often leads to a self-consumed life.
The selfish question is one we need to stop asking pregnant athletes or pastors or teachers or dog-walkers. Yes, we are all selfish, because we are all broken. But most of us mothers—with children in our arms or still in utero—love our kids enough to know what might harm them, and we scurry from that. But many of us also love ourselves and our God enough to know that life has risks—that using our gifts and following our callings have risks, too—and that perhaps the most dangerous place to parent from is one of fear.