Uppercase Woman

Dudes--Video Post!

So, I got the new computer today. So Tori and I made a video post, which you can watch here if you like.

Or you can go here and watch it on youtube.

This is SO awesome.

A Lame Friday Post

Ah, here I am, another year older. At first I thought my birthday was going to be kind of lame and sad because I had to work and I wasn't feeling very well (I have a stupid cold that won't quit). But then Charlie sent me the most beautiful boquet of flowers (the only thing I'll miss about having an office job is getting flowers at work), then a couple of co-workers brought me a cake and sang me happy birthday, and then Sarah told me that she got me tickets to see Jon Stewart. Yes, tonight I will finally be in the presence of my TV boyfriend. I will bring a cloth to soak up the drool.

And then today I got flowers from Tanya, which was lovely, although I've now discovered that apparently Tori is afraid of roses. I tried to get her to smell them but instead she just made that scared kid face--you know, where the lips go down and begin to quiver and the eyes get big as saucers and stare at you in horror--that look. It would be sad if it wasn't so fucking adorable.

Today I'm home (working Saturday-gah), and the cable guy came and moved our internet connection from the now-sodden basement office to the new used-to-be-the-guest-room office (Dave, I hope you like air mattresses). So we then had to move furniture and other fun things about and now we have a lovely, light filled work space for Charlie that has nary a bit of cat box odor. Charlie should be very pleased. I was able to get a lot of work done myself (new job is very busy!), although my office will actually be in a corner of the dining room eventually.

Now all that we have to do to finish the two-working-from-home-parents makeover of the house is buy a couple of computer desks, some office organizing stuff, and my new computer. Then I'll be good to go, or, not go as the case may be.

My old job finally got things taken care of so that it will be in good hands when I leave, which is awesome. Only two weeks left, people. Finally. I'm so ready. Giving six weeks notice might be the right thing to do, but it sucks ass.

That wraps up this lame ass post. I'm gonna go take a shower. If you are up for it, there are a few more photos here of our adventures at the park last weekend...oh, and my dear friend Katie posted photos here (my hair was actually pink there, and the braid blue) and here of me in highschool (that second one is my senior portrait). Can you believe I thought I was fat? If I only knew then what I know now...

So. Damned. Busy.

I know I should do a post that's not related to abortion. But I'm just too damned busy, I'm sorry. Working the two jobs right now is tough, and this time of year the regular job gets C-R-A-Z-Y.

But I've really enjoyed the discussion, with a few rare exceptions (Mary, I'm sorry, but you were no longer contributing to the discussion, so I banned you. Please, please go see an endocrinologist about what sounds like PCOS, and please, please see a therapist so you can stop blaming yourself for your miscarriage). I will write that op-ed piece, just as soon as I get that copy of my chart so that I have my facts straight.

In the meantime, can you content yourselves with new Tori photos? There are some here, including photos of me, Charlie, Sarah, and others. Charlie posted a couple here. And if you're super bored, or a weirdo like me, you can enjoy my nerdy hobby of wildflower identification here.

Oh, and I turn 39 years old tomorrow. Yikes.

Just A Little More

I thought I was done. After writing that last post, reading and responding to all of the comments (well, the ones without fake email addresses anyway), I thought I had nothing more to say on the issue. But apparently, I was wrong.

At church yesterday (yes, I go to church), the pastor asked if anyone had joys or concerns, as he does every week. My hand went up in the air, almost without me meaning it to, and I spoke about the news of the week and how difficult it had been.

I spoke about my anger. Not anger, actually--more like intense rage about this issue. I asked for the ability to find forgiveness for the five men that made a decision about my life and my body, even though they gave no thought to me or my life or my worth as a human being. I said that I wanted to be an activist and an advocate, but I knew that real change comes only from being in a place of quiet hope and having an open heart, and I don't yet have that. I found myself shaking and crying as I asked for the ability to forgive.

I was more upset than I realized.

I'm willing to talk about this until I'm blue in the face, because every time I do, someone else tells me that they didn't realize the implications of this issue, and they've found that they've changed their minds. Truth is, those of us who have had a late term abortion often don't want to talk about how that pregnancy ended. We say, euphemistically, that we've "lost" the baby or babies. Only women who have gone something similar know what that might mean. That's why I talk about it.

But sometimes it's hard. Each time I post about this some new person says that I killed my baby (or babies, because they didn't actually READ what I wrote, and don't know that one twin had already died), or says they just don't understand why I didn't deliver the surviving baby and give him "a chance," or even graciously acknowledge that it's just so sad that I was pressured into making this decision by my doctors.

Over the two years I've been speaking openly about this, I've developed a bit of a shell to protect myself. But sometimes, when I'm not being careful, something in me slips and I realize that I'm absolutely fucking furious. I just cannot believe that people don't get it. I cannot accept that FIVE MEN made a decision for everyone with a uterus in this country. I find myself looking at my daughter, knowing that my mother had preeclampsia, I had preeclampsia, and it's highly likely that she, too, will have to battle that disease. I want to run to Washington and stand in front of the court and shriek my rage at the building. I want to curse those men, wish terrible things on the women in their lives, just so they fucking GET IT.

But I won't.

Instead, I will pray, and pray furiously, that I can continue to keep my heart open to those that disagree with me. I will continue to explain what happened to me, over and over and over. I would do it on Good Morning America if they'd let me. I want people to hear my story, and to rethink what they believe. I want to fight to keep choice open to all women, everywhere.

One anonymous commenter accused those of us that are Pro-Choice of "hiding" behind our tragedies, of using our tragedies to keep abortion legal. Of course we are! No one--NO ONE--thinks using abortion as birth control is a good idea. But when you start placing limits, when you start CRIMINALIZING A MEDICAL PROCEDURE, suddenly there are no doctors willing to perform that procedure, and then there is no fucking choice, and women start dying. You cannot claim to be Pro-Life and then devalue the lives of women so much! You just can't.

The scripture lesson at church this week was John 21:1-19. Basically (and forgive my paraphrasing) it discusses Jesus' third post-crucifixion appearance, in which he asks Peter to tend his sheep three times. According to my pastor, in the original Greek Jesus first asks him to attend the lambs, then the older sheep, and then, as my pastor put it "the big old sheep."

If you ask me, that makes it clear that Jesus wanted all of us protected. It's doesn't say just the lambs, or the lambs above everyone else. It says, right there in the bible, that Jesus wanted "a big old sheep" like me protected too. And this law does just the opposite.

HEALTH vs. LIFE: Trying to clear things up

Healthy discussion going on over in the comments of my last post (person with fake emails and all caps not withstanding). But the core of the issue is the line between life and health and who gets to choose.

First off, let's talk about some different terms.

Technically, the term "Partial Birth Abortion" does not apply to any currently known and used medical procedure, as Maura stated in her comments. However, it is "assumed" that they are usually referring to the procedure known as a D&X.

D&X refers to a procedure called an Intact Dilation and Extraction. The benefits on this procedure are many, including the fact that having an intact fetus allows the family to view the remains if they choose. Remember, also, that this method is used often when a baby has already died. And, as Aurelia pointed out, "is quite often needed for babies with hydrocephalus or severe cranio-facial disabilities who cannot be delivered vaginally with their skull and brain intact."

According to this survey, this procedure is performed in 0.17% of all abortions. In other fucking words, HARDLY EVER.

D&E is a different procedure, a Dilation and Evacuation. This procedure is done between 12 and 20 weeks gestation. In this procedure, the fetus is usually, well, separated to allow for easier evacuation of the uterus. 11% of all abortions occur in the second trimester, according to the same study above.

I hope that clears up some confusion for folks about the terms.

Now, the problem with the ban is that the language is NOT CLEAR about which procedure is being banned. Part of the issue is the fact that there are many medical terms that fall into this category--this New York Times article refers to both "intact dilation and evacuations" AND "intact dilations and extractions". The line between the two procedures is very small--and doctors now face, as Maura mentioned, CRIMINAL prosecution for crossing that line--and sometimes they don't know what procedure a woman need until they've actually started the surgery.

Do you see the problem? They are taking a medical decision out of the hands of the people involved--the patient AND the doctor.

Personally, I do not know which procedure I had. At 22.5 weeks gestation (when my pregnancy ended--and that is based on my last menstrual period, remember, not the date of implantation, so the fetuses were really 20.5 week along) I was right on the line between trimesters. Plus the fact that there where two fetus (one barely alive, and one dead) could have impacted which surgery I had.

Other than having a medical termination, the options open to someone in my position are usually either a) emergency c-section, and b) induced delivery.

My doctor believed--given my particular circumstances--that it would be better for both my short term and long term health to not cut open my body if at all possible. My health was in a precarious state, and the option of a medical termination was the fastest, safest, and least complicated procedure to use. It also preserved the health of my uterus for future pregnancies.

Also, my doctor (you know, the man in the room with me, the one with a medical degree and my chart in hand? that guy) knew that inducing me, with my insanely high blood pressure, would be likely to cause me to have a stroke.

Please remember that even if my twins had both been alive, THEY WOULD NOT HAVE SURVIVED. Do not tell me they would have, because you are wrong. There have been NO DOCUMENTED CASES of babies born that early surviving--I don't care what pro-life websites you send me links to that say differently. THEY ARE LYING.

Trust me. Don't you think that I wanted those babies and would have done anything I could to save them? And don't you think that my doctor--who knew about my struggles to get pregnant and called the day of my surgery "the worst day of my professional career"--would have told me if that was possible?

Lastly, let's discuss, using me as an example, the difference between HEALTH and LIFE.

Where do you draw the line? Was my life actually at risk at the moment they chose to terminate the pregnancy? Well, my blood pressure was going higher and higher and they weren't able to get it under control with the medications they had available. My kidneys has begun to shut down and I'd stopped producing urine. But I was alive. I could have remained alive, possibly, under those circumstances for a while. Maybe they could have pushed it until I actually began to have seizures. Or maybe until I had a stroke. Or, maybe, since even after a stroke and having seizures I would have still been alive, maybe they would have to wait until after I felt into a coma. But wait! If I'm in a coma, I'm still alive, right? Even if my brain has been irreparably damaged, I'm still ALIVE. Right?

So, my point is, sure-- the "Partial Birth Abortion Ban" has a provision for the LIFE of the mother. But there is NO PROVISION FOR HER HEALTH. Or the health of her uterus, or her future children.

To sum it all up, if I hadn't had the procedure that I had, Nicholas, Zachary, me AND Tori would all be dead.

Got it?

With A Sinking Heart

I don't know why I'm surprised. But I am. I'm shocked, horrified, and dismayed.

It's finally begun. The long war waged against women's lives has finally scored a huge, awful, horrid victory.

Thank you, fucking Supreme Court, for wishing me dead. Thank you so fucking much.

I'm actually crying as I write this. I just can't believe it. God. Let me remind you: there is NO EXEMPTION for the health of the mother. NONE.

Fuck.

How To Sound Like An Ignorant Ass

1. Have a big flood.

2. Have a big flood that fucks up your Internet access.

3. Have a big flood that keeps you in the basement for half the day.

4. When you're not in the basement, be in bed cause you're sick.

5. If you watch any TV at all, make it PBS Sprout to entertain your daughter while you moan on the couch.

6. If you aren't watching PBS Sprout, watch only TV shows you've DVRed.

7. Go to bed before the evening news.

8. Wake up in the morning and turn on NPR.

9. Realize that a horrible school tragedy happened the day before.

10. Feel like a complete ass for whining about your waterlogged basement.

How To Have A Crap Ass Day

1. Live in Pennsylvania.

2. Live in Pennsylvania in April.

3. Live in Pennsylvania in April when it rains for 24 hours.

4. Live in Pennsylvania in April when it rains for 24 hours two days after it also rained for 24 hours.

5. Own a house.

6. Own a house with a basement.

7. Don't own a wet vac, or a sump-pump, or anything handy like that.

8. Have your home office in the basement.

9. Watch water burble up into your basement from a crack in the cement floor.

10. Watch the water burble cheerfully up into your basement, as if from a lovely little steam.

11. Buy a shop vac.

12. Realize a shop vac isn't going to cut it, after you and your husband suck up and dump over 500 gallons of water.

13. Go to 16 stores to find the one lone pump that you can use without digging a hole into your basement.

14. Get the pump home, get it working, and then have it stop working.

15. Take it apart to see why it's not working.

16. Spill all the oil out of the central body of the pump.

17. Go out and buy more oil, put pump back together, then finally have it clear out the basement.

18. Be sure that you do all of this with a chest cold so that you are coughing constantly while standing in cold water trying to save your basement.

19. Because of the chest cold, keep having to lie down for a while so your husband has to do all the work.

20. Finally have it stop raining, the basement stops having a stream running through it, and go to bed exhausted but grateful that you didn't fight with your husband (much), you didn't make you daughter cry because the shop vac scares her (more than once, anyway), and that you already quit your job so they can't fire you for calling out AGAIN.

How was your day?

Friday Noodlings

I have no great wisdom to share today. My head is swimming in a great morass of fogginess due to being put on beta blockers for my incessant fucking migraines. I've pretty much had a headache non-stop for the last ten days or so (with some days being better than others). I've exceeded the amount of medication my insurance will pay for for the month (after the 22nd I can get more--thanks, fuckwad insurance company).

The beta blockers seem to be helping, but now I have a headache and feel stupid and tired and like I'm trying to breathe underwater.

Sigh.

I'm pathetic, aren't I?

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I have been horribly remiss about this... a while back, Bluepaintred nominated me for a Thinking Blogger Award. So did Tiffany.  So did Melessa. 

Thank you all. Apparently there is an award badge I could paste in my sidebar but since I've been such a brat about mentioning it, I'm not going to (plus, I don't have time to find it and paste it--working two jobs right now, remember? Ack).

But it's nice to be told that I'm a thinker. Cause sometimes I feel like I'm just speaking out my ass.

I know I'm supposed to nominate someone in turn. But how to choose from all the many, many blogs I read? All you guys are big thinkers and tackle big subjects now and again. I don't want to choose. Please don't make me choose. You are all just too awesome to select just one.
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Once again, I need y'alls advice. I want to buy a domain name (cecily.com is taken--damn it--but cecily.org is still free!). Any suggestions of who what where? I don't want to get ripped off. Or pay much. Heh.

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As a present to myself (heh) I'm going to be buying a new computer. Ok, it's really so that I can work from home effectively. It will have a webcam (cause I'm buying this--hopefully in the next week or so--and it comes with it) so video posts are definitely in my future. :)

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My boss just called me to go over the job requirements for the job posting for my current job (did that make sense? damn beta blockers). It feels really real now. I'm so excited.

Tori is doing more and more cool things every day. Her top teeth are breaking through (fun for nursing!) and she is seriously considering crawling or walking or cruising. All at once. I can't believe her little brain hasn't burst open from all the thinking she's doing as she figures stuff out. In the last ten days or so her rolling over ability has become so fast and fluid that she has taken to doing WHILE SHE'S NURSING. Yes. With a boob in her mouth.

Can you say ouch? Luckily, my boobs are so damned saggy that she can do it and still keep on suckling. Seriously.

And with that lovely image in your minds (just call me twisty-boob) I hope you have a great weekend, folks.

Moving On

I know, I know, I've been a rotten blogger.But I'm straddling two jobs and feeling the strain a bit; my computer time has been dedicated to the new job and my work hours are filled with trying to clear projects before I leave there (in four weeks!).

But I haven't forgotten you guys, and I hope you'll be patient until things level out.

By the way, the other day Tori learned how to high-five AND how to bop her head to music--while I was at work. I've never been so sure that I was doing the right thing by quitting my job.

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After I wrote this post--and then read all of your comments--I had to do a lot of thinking. Was I really ready to find out what happened to the boys after my surgery? Did I really want to look at photos if they exist (being fully aware of what I would see--a 22 week fetus is not a full-term baby, after all)?

I'm still not sure, but I've taken some steps to provide myself with the option. With the help of a friend, I'm getting my hospital chart. Whatever questions remain after I look at that, I'll ask Dr. Mama directly.

I still feel sad, more sad than I've felt in a while about the boys. I feel very raw about it too, but that's good--I know that healing is hovering in the shadows. Or, I should say, further healing.

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Because I'm not the first woman (sadly, nor will I be the last) to lose a child before or shortly after birth, I'm happy to pass on a link to an amazing site that Kristie (no blog, Kristie?) told me about. Before you click on the link, be prepared: this is a site that connects families with photographers that are comfortable taking photographs of babies that have recently died. They are willing to come to the hospital, at short notice (and in the middle of the night), and give you mementos I wish I had (sort of--I wish I had lovely photographs of full-term infants, which wasn't an option for me, since the boys weren't full term. Actually, I wish the boys had been born healthy and full term, but you get what I mean).

The site is a wonderful resource, but there is a video clip on the front page that will have you bawling your eyes out. So be prepared. Here's the link.

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The last thing I'll say in this definitely-lacking-something post is, WHAT A DUMB ASS. But as someone I know pointed out to me, Don Imus says nasty-ass shit like that about women all the time. Would we have even heard about it if he hadn't also been racist? I would love to live in a world where an idiot like this man didn't have a job because no one wanted to listen to his vile hate filled jabbering.