Bacon be gone

NS January 18th, 2011

Walking home from school with Noble Girl the other day, she suddenly turned to me and asked, “Mummy, what are sausages made of?”

“Well,” I replied, “they are mostly made up of bits of animals and some other stuff too.”

“Animals? But how do animals get into sausages when they are so big and sausages are so small?

(hesitating slightly) “Well, the people who make the sausages have to chop up the meat to make it small enough to fit in.”

“They chop up the ANIMALS?! How do they do THAT?”

“They kill the animals and then chop them up once they’re dead.”

“Chop them UP?! That’s horrible! I don’t want them to kill the animals.”

“Well, that’s why some people don’t eat meat and are called vegetarians. [Insert names of people she knows] are vegetarians, you know.”

“Mummy, I don’t want the sausage people to kill the animals and chop them up into little pieces. What animals do they kill?”

“The main animals that are eaten in our culture are pigs, cows, lambs, chickens, ducks, other birds and fish.”

“But I love cows and ducks and fish!”

“I know sweetie. It’s sad, isn’t it?”

“Mummy, I’m not going to eat the animals any more. I want to be a vegeberian.”

“Vegetarian.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Okay, no problem at all. So no more chicken, fish or sausages. Got it. You can just eat more vegetables, fruit, pasta and cheese, stuff like that. Sound good?”

“Yep! But Mummy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“You’re not going to keep eating the killed, chopped up animals too, are you?”

(sighing but smiling) “No, I guess not.”

So…anyone got some good vegetarian recipes?

She gets it, even when we don’t

NS January 9th, 2011

Yesterday afternoon, after a spot of shopping, we took the kids to Pizza Hut. Though there were moments where we had to corral them back to the table, for the most part they behaved in the socially prescribed way by sitting in their chairs, eating their food and not making too much noise. It was a nice outing.

As NH and I were paying and getting coats on, our server, a young woman who looked to be in her early 20s, smiled as she watched our children tickle each other and laugh. After she handed over the receipt and my debit card, she said to them, “You two make me so happy. Watching you play together has made my day.”

She then turned to me and said, “This must be the best part of being a parent, huh? Watching them smile and laugh. I bet it makes up for all the times you’re fed up with them.”

Caught off guard by her lovely and insightful comment, I just smiled and nodded. As I watched the two blonde heads of my progeny skip out the door holding hands, the poignancy of her comment caused my eyes to briefly fill with tears.

Yes, I am lucky and yes, they are a joy to behold.

Thank you, Pizza Hut girl, for reminding me of that.

Run, fat girl, run

NS January 4th, 2011

So one of my biggest goals for 2011 is to lose the metric shit-tonne of weight (nearly 2 stone) I’ve put on since I had my son two years ago. I’m not going on some crazy fad diet, but I have signed up for Weight Watchers (online version only, I can’t abide those horrid public weigh-ins) and am determined to take running up again. Considering I was running 3 times a week, often before 6am, and completed a 5k just a few months ago, it’s a bit crap that I completely fell off the wagon as soon as I crossed that finish line. My mind was like, ‘Hey, you did it! Now you can reward yourself by stopping exercise altogether and stuffing your face with congratulatory cakes.’

Yeah, so that didn’t work out too well for me.

As I was telling a runner friend of mine about my new goals and how I’d signed up for a 10k race in April to keep myself motivated, she convinced me to add more mini-goals throughout the year. After a few drinks, she had me signed up for a 5k in February, the 10k in April, a 5k in July and then a duathlon in September (5k run, 20k bike ride, 3k run).

I don’t know whether to thank her or make a voodoo doll with her name on it.

Regardless, I am on board and training begins tomorrow.

Pray for me.

The call

NS January 2nd, 2011

Soon after I became a doula, I considered shutting down this blog.

I’ve grumbled before about the possibility of having nothing left to say or being tempted to throw in the towel but I can never quite bring myself to do it. This blog has been a major part of my life and, dare I say it, my identity for the past (coming up to) 6 years.

So I’m not going to shut it down. I may post more infrequently, or in manic bursts between silences, but I’m not ready to let go of the part of myself that still believes I am/will be a writer.

That said, I think I have a new calling.

When I became a doula, I wanted to help women have better births. After writing about, reading about and now even witnessing firsthand the terror and trauma that so many women go through (often unnecessarily) to give birth, I am even more devoted to not only helping individual women receive better care and become empowered enough to make their own choices, but to actively fighting to change the appalling state of maternal health in the UK and around the world.

Here are a few facts to chew on†:

  • If you are a north-western European woman, your risk of dying in childbirth is 1 in 30,000; if you live in Afghanistan or Sierra Leone, your risk is 1 in 6
  • Every year over half a million women die from complications related to pregnancy or childbirth; 99 percent of them are from the poorest nations
  • Preventing unwanted pregnancies would reduce the maternal mortality rate by a quarter. At the moment, more than 68,000 women die from unsafe abortions every year
  • There are not enough midwives. One in four women in the world give birth without a skilled attendant present. Even in industrialised, wealthy nations, women are frequently left unattended or unsupported as they give birth, resulting in both physical and emotional trauma
  • Women in poor countries lack access to needed caesarean surgery; women in rich countries are subjected to too many. Both have dangerous implications for maternal health
  • The child of a woman who dies in childbirth is much more likely to die before the age of two

In the UK, David Cameron is revoking his campaign promise to provide at least 3,000 more midwives within the NHS, the minimum number needed to bring the service to a safe and acceptable level. Once again, as they do the world over, politicians’ lips do a lot of moving but their commitment to actually providing the funding and resources is non-existent.

Do we really matter so little?

NHS midwives are stretched so thin that at the Royal College of Midwives’ recent annual conference, RCM General Secretary Cathy Warwick painted a bleak picture of maternity services and warned that they are at the breaking point. In today’s Observer, on the front page, Warwick warns once again that if the maternity services don’t improve quickly, it is only a matter of time before it begins to break down completely, further endangering women’s lives and those of their babies.

If we can’t get maternal health right in even the most prosperous, wealthiest nations in the world, what hope do we have of bettering conditions in developing nations where conditions are much worse?

Even Dr. Tony Falconer, president of the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists, today issued a warning that women who give birth at night are at greater risk for inadequate care due to staff shortages and inexperience because senior staff tend to work during ‘normal’ business hours. This, despite the fact that many women go into labour and arrive at hospital in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning. I’ve personally heard countless stories of women in full-on labour being turned away because there just aren’t enough midwives to cope and being sent to another hospital, A&E or being forced to give birth unattended in a waiting room, corridor or car park. It does paint a rather worrying picture, doesn’t it?

That’s why I’m working on a new project, one that will hopefully combine my passions for birth advocacy, feminism and writing into one big ball of justice-seeking, anger-tinged-yet-hopeful blogginess. I’m hoping that all will be revealed in the next few weeks so watch this space. I do believe that 2011 is going to be a busy, busy year.

Bring it.

†All stats taken from ‘The Politics of Breastfeeding: When Breasts Are Bad For Business’ by Gabrielle Palmer

Photo credit

Christmas poo and other travesties

NS December 22nd, 2010

I’m not going to write one of those long, boring posts about what I’ve been up to and why I haven’t been able to write, but a booming doula business and a trip to America to see friends, followed immediately by my sister coming to stay for two weeks and the manic lead-up to Christmas means I barely have time to wipe my ass properly let alone concoct long, navel-gazing, ranty or poignant blog posts.

Speaking of ass-wiping, this is something I’m going to be quizzing future playdates on, when Noble Girl has someone over. Just today, I was forced to deal with a toilet full of another child’s excrement and reams of loo roll laid on top, just to make it that much more difficult and unpleasant to flush. To clean up this kid’s Mr. Hanky required 3 plastic bags, 1 pair of gloves, 2 plungers, 1 bottle of spray bleach, 2 sponges and supreme control over not only my gag reflex but my Small Child Swear Word Censor Button.

You guys, I  had to clean shit off the flexible grooves of the toilet plunger afterwards. AND IT WASN’T EVEN MY KID’S SHIT. Nor was I getting paid even child sweatshop-worker wages to do so.

Tell me I’m not a saint and I’ll tell you to go stick a spork in your groin.

Attention all future and potential playdates: an ass-wiping and flushing demonstration will now take place upon arrival, with a quiz at the end. If you fail the ass-wiping and flushing quiz, you will be marched out the door and returned immediately to your parent/guardian/handler/zookeeper.

Happy Christmas everyone! Have a good one. Eat cheese, drink wine and be merry. And if you’re a teetotal vegan, well…happy New Year.

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