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Snipperoo.

So on Friday, Mr. A got the old snipperoo.

The week leading up to his surgery was a solid week of jokes about his genitals.  I think at one point I may even have made up a little song.  Do you know how hard it is to find rhymes for scrotum and testicles?

We were expecting the worst.  Whenever we mentioned that Mr. A was going to get snipped, there was a resounding chorus of sympathy.   Men couldn’t seem to help but share one of the following: A) Stories about how they would NEVER agree to let someone cut open their balls, B) Stories of how a friend of a friend of a friend had a vasectomy and their penis rotted off, or C) Tales of their own snippage and the suffering that followed.

As for Mr. A’s surgery, I am unimpressed.  I dropped him off at 6:45, came home to drop M off at school at 7:50 and picked Mr. A up by 8:30.  They gave him some decent drugs and after I went to procure an “anti fungal athletic supporter*, Mr. A really didn’t seem that uncomfortable.  The suffering certainly didn’t hinder his ability to spend two entire days and nights playing with the playstation he borrowed from a friend.

It isn’t that I really wanted him to suffer, exactly, but it really doesn’t seem fair that he got off so easy.

I have managed almost all aspects of the pain in the ass that is modern birth control since I was 17 and that includes 12 years of this relationship .  Suffering that included discussing birth control with my mom while I was in high school, taking pills that made me sick/break out/gain weight, carrying around a diaphragm and spermicide and having to remember to use it, 100% of the blame when our birth control failed ONCE in all those years, an IUD that makes me bleed like a stuck pig once a month, etc.

I also trudged through the indignities and discomforts of 9.5 months of pregnancy.  I won’t go through them all, but I even got stretchmarks on my CALVES for crying out loud.   My CALVES.   And my sideburns grew in so thick I looked like a short, fat, hairy MAN.   No one tells you about that when they talk about “glowing” pregnant women.  The only glowing I did was when my face was red from living in a  neverending hot flash that lasted two months.

So far, Mr. A’s surgery looks more pleasant than the first week of pregnancy was for me, not to mention the following 4o after that (Need I mention that M was born a solid week overdue?  One of the worst weeks of my entire life.)

Anyway, he lived and so far, his package hasn’t fallen off from gangrene.  Hopefully, the surgery on his sperms (as M called it) will be a success and I can wash my hands of birth control for the rest of my life.

Halle-freaking-llujah!

(*Seriously, Antifungal was written in enormous font on the packaging.  The thought of fungal athletic supporters haunted me throughout the rest of my trip to Target.)

January 12th, 2009 | Tags: men are sissies, snip snip, vasectomy | Category: All About Me, Fighting the Patriarchy, Mr. A, Politics | 14 comments

Yes We Can

We don’t get to vote on super Tuesday.  It makes me sad, because tomorrow will be a historic day for this country.  Tomorrow, a white woman or a Black man will be chosen to run for the most powerful job in the Nation.  

I am voting for the world I wish we lived in.  I am voting for the world I want my daughters to grow up in.  I am voting for someone who will not only fix the mess we are in, but who has a vision for a better future.   I am voting for a country with integrity.  I am voting to make America a country I can be proud to call my home.

They try to say we can’t do it. 

Yes. We. Can.

 

 

             
 

 

 

 

February 4th, 2008 | Category: All About Me, Fighting the Patriarchy, Politics | 20 comments

Fighting the Patriarchy

The other day, I dropped M and two of her classmates off at preschool.  To manage the hurculean task of driving three whole kids around, I used the classmates’ mom’s mini-van (dropping them off was a favor for her because she had an early meeting). 

As soon as I sat down in the Mini-van, I was in love.  I mean really, in LOOOOOOOOVE. 

I will just preface my  smooch-fest by saying that I am not very tall.  Even with my electric seats cranked to the highest position, I can barely see over the dash.  For me to reach the gas and brake pedals, my seat has to be pulled so far forward that the airbag may actual decapitate me if we get in a wreck.

But the Mini-van, oh the Mini-van.  The seat fit me perfectly.  I could see over the steering wheel.  I could reach the pedals and all the buttons on the radio and airconditioner thingy.  The automatic sliding door so the screaming horde of kids could get in before I got to the car.  It was amazing.

As I sat there in my lumbar-supported heaven, I started wondering:  "why aren’t mIni-Vans cool?  Because damn, this car is awesome."

Then it occured to me.  It is the fucking Patriarchy that makes mini-vans uncool.  It is a car that is designed for WOMEN.  It is designed for WOMEN WITH KIDS.   It is a car that is created to meet MY NEEDS.

Of course The MAN must scorn it. 

Fuck that, I say. 

Soccer mom stereotypes be damned.  Sooner or later, I am going to get myself a mini-van and I will drive it as a badge of my feminist honor. 

Maybe I will even get a bumper sticker that says "Fight The MAN.  Drive a Mini-van!"

June 27th, 2006 | Category: Fighting the Patriarchy | 30 comments

Boob follow up questions.

I taking a minute to tear myself away from a facinating episode of 8th and Ocean to answer some of the comments about the adoptive breastfeeding thing.  Unless otherwise noted, these are just my own thoughts, not necessarily based on citable research.  I don’t claim to be an expert, but damn I sure am opinionated.

Johnny asks: Can you answer the question about considerations/thoughts about a baby who has never had breastmilk suddenly getting it after 16-18 months? You know me, I’m not being sarcastic.  I wonder if many of the needed, protective enzymes are moot at that point?

In addition to the important nutritional components that are found in breastmilk like fatty acids and super easy to digest proteins that are not found in formula, breastmilk has antibodies that give babies protection against diseases and infections.  When a mother and baby interact, the breastmilk the mother makes is tailor made for the baby and the germs he/she has been exposed to.  I swear I once read that baby’s heads smell so good to encourage mom’s to smell them–which would enable the mom’s body to produce the right antibodies for the baby’s germs.  I can’t find the reference though.

As to the age of the baby, early weaning (before one year old) is a very recent human phenomena.  In the past, children were often breastfed until they were 4-5 years old.  The World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding for at least two years.  This article mentions that 2.5 years- 4.5 years as the "natural time" for human weaning.  If extended breastfeeding creeps you out, remember that is the lens of culture you are looking through.

So I don’t think 18 months old is too old to get some of the benefits (particularly the immunities) from breastmilk.  That being said, I knew all about it but weaned M when she turned one because I was just OVER breastfeeding her.  If I could go back in time, I don’t know if I would change that choice or not.

Barb asks: Has research been done on the possible health risks to the mom or child from the hormone drug taken to induce lactation? If so, what are these risks, if any?

The drugs I am planning to take are birth control pills (Yasmin) and domperidone which is not currently FDA approved (you can find the protocol here).  Dom is an ulcer drug that is widely used in other parts of the world, including Canada.  It is my understanding that it isn’t FDA approved because the process is so expensive and not worth the effort in the US because there are more profitable drugs on the market. Plus, you know, one of the side effects is lactation, so there are not a ton of people (especially MEN!) signing up to take it when they could just take some prevacid.

If you click that dom link up there, you can see the other non-lactation side effects of dom.  Dom does show up in breastmilk, but it is also prescribed for babies with reflux. There is a note about not giving it to people with liver problems, so if the baby comes home as a hep B carrier or hep B infected, I would not give it to the baby via my milk.  I am pretty comfortable with the side effects of the drugs.

I am hoping to wean off the meds pretty quickly.  The fact that I was successful breastfeeding before and still have some drops of milk now (2.5 years after weaning M) is a good indication that my boobs still have milk making capacity.  I always sucked at pumping though so maybe it won’t work at all despite all the effort if the baby doesn’t want to latch.

Marisa says: I just wanted to point out that there are herbal ways of inducing lactation for adoptive breastfeeding too. (Amber: that’s not assvice for you, I’m just saying that there are options for people who are squeamish about drugs).

That isn’t assvice at all.  I will probably suppliment with fenugreek and oatmeal once we get started.

There are several yahoo groups and websites where you can get more info on naturally inducing lactation.  There is a general adoptive breastfeeding group as well as a China specific group.  There are also some message boards. As an aside, Four Friends, the most often referenced one, charges $ to access their message boards.  I find that pretty irritation and haven’t paid for access. 

Lella says: I wonder if an older baby, used to a bottle, will be able to figure out BF. My daughter REFUSED to BF, so I pumped for 9 months. I remember trying to get her to BF throughout her life. My last attempt was at 8 months. She looked at me like I was crazy and proceeded to bite me. Needless to say, that was my last attempt.

Along the same lines, Viv says: The best laid plans…I too had considered doing this and decided against it mainly for logistical reasons. As it turned out, our daughter at 10 mos. had ten big choppers and wasn’t even on formula but regular food.

If I see our baby chewing on it’s bottle nipples, I may be very reluctant to stick my boob in there too.  If the baby seems to have the hang of sucking (sometimes orphanage babies don’t), it might not be too bad.   I think the general idea is to very very gradually work the baby up to trying to latch.  First, get the baby used to eating from a bottle in a position similar to nursing.  Then do it with no shirt.  Then no bra.  Then place the bottle nipple over your own boob (suplimental feeding tube for milk). Then boob with the tube. Then boob only.  This can take weeks or months depending on the baby.

**Obligitory TMI warning.  If you don’t want to hear about my boobs, stop reading now.** The truth of the matter is that I have very small, very flat nipples.  There is no similarity between my nipples and the nipples on a baby bottle. None.  I don’t expect a baby who has been sucking on a bottle nipple for 9-12 months to figure out that my tiny nipples are supposed to serve a similar function.  I will probably need to use nipple shields for this baby.  The very small nipples also make pumping a pain , despite various attachments that are supposed to help.  Once again, not having the boobs of a playboy bunny bites me in the ass.

Also, for the record, breastfeeding hurts sometimes.  When I started nursing M, my nipples were covered with blood blisters because her latch was a little funny.  I never understood the term "toe curling pain" until I tried to breastfeed her.  After a few days work and a lot of consultation with a lactation consultant we worked it out.   M also was know to bite a few times too.  Yes it hurt and yes it was infuriating.  The best thing to do with a biter is counter-intuitively push their face into your breast so they can’t breathe while you are screaming from pain.  They will open up their mouth to breathe.  Also the yelling will startle them and they will learn not to do it.

I know I mentioned it before, but I am mostly concerned about the nutrition.  If I have to only pump and feed with bottles or cups, I think that will be acceptable to me.

Alright, I had planned on writing more, but it is too late and I need some sleep.  I am sure I am jinxing this whole project by talking about it so much.  Just so you know, I am not going to get all psycho about it.  I just figured it was worth a try.

April 11th, 2006 | Category: Adoption, All About Me, Fighting the Patriarchy | 8 comments

More on the boobs…

Yesterday I ran across this article on SF Gate. 

Moms pay big for other mothers’ milk
But doctors warn non-nursing women of health risk to babies

Christine Bartels has spent more than $25,000 to feed breast milk to her baby.

What’s free for most moms has come at a high cost for the 44-year-old Palo Alto mother, who wanted her adopted son, Milo, to have the undisputed health benefits of breast milk. So she paid the Mothers’ Milk Bank in San Jose $3 an ounce for donated breast milk.

That’s nearly $100 a day.

A growing number of parents are going to great lengths to feed their babies breast milk, buying it from licensed banks, accepting it from strangers and even purchasing it online.

"I decided this was one of my top priorities. I cut back on fancy baby toys and fancy baby clothes," said Bartels, a single mother and analyst for Google Inc. who fed her 10-month-old nothing but breast milk for his first nine months, three months longer than the minimum doctors recommend. "My general sense is why mess with nature? It’s the optimal nutrition…"

My first thought when I read the article was "Damn, $25,000 to feed a baby?  These people have too much disposable income, maybe I can quit my job an sell breastmilk for a living."   

Then of course, I returned to thinking about myself.  I have mentioned more than a couple times here that I am considering adoptive breastfeeding.  I suppose I can just go ahead and revise that "considering" to "planning on".   I have ordered the drugs, read the research and stocked up on breast pump supplies and supplimental feeding systems.  In addition to the important bonding that breastfeeding can provide, even if the baby never manages to latch and breastfeed directly, I hope I can pump enough milk to at least suppliment her/his diet. 

It wasn’t an easy choice to make and it isn’t something I would judge someone else who doesn’t want to try it.  It is going to require a lot of work and effort from me during a very stressful time and there is probably a good chance that it won’t work at all and the stress and effort will be all for naught. 

I will admit when I first read about adoptive breastfeeding, it made me a little squeamish.  The idea of a kid who did not come out of my body sucking on my breast was not exactly something that seemed desirable.  Not to mention the fact that I didn’t exactly feel all calm and serene like I had imagined I would when M was breastfeeding.  By the end of that first year, I pretty much wanted my body back and the sooner the better, dammit.

But at some point in the last couple years, my feelings about adoptive breastfeeding started to change.  As we moved through the adoption process, the reality that this imaginary baby is going to actually be my daughter or son started to hit home.  When I was breastfeeding M, despite the occasional annoyance, I did it because I thought formula was the second best thing I could offer.  Does my new son or daughter deserve anything less than the very best?

Also, at some point I picked up A Social History of Wet Nursing in America: From Breast to Bottle at the library (I read a lot of random books) and the idea of nursing a baby that wasn’t biologically from my body stopped seeming so foreign–people have been using wet nurses to feed their children for thousands of years.  Besides, how is milk from my body any more gross than the secretions from the mammary glands of a COW for crying out loud?

If I really believe that human milk is the best thing for a human baby (and I DO believe that), why let a little squeamishness stop me from giving my baby the best nutrition I can?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the squeamishness was really just more of The Man** keeping me down.  The Man tries to tell tell women that our boobs are for his pleasure, but that is bullshit.  Boobs are for feeding babies.  In America, we have swallowed this boobs are obscene crap to such a ridiculous degree that  29% of women in America never even attempt it at all despite nearly universal agreement that breastmilk is the best thing for babies to eat. 

I am not going to rant against formula companies’ evil policies that convince women***  that formula is better for their babies than their own breastmilk right now.  That is a worthwhile rant, but formula is vital for the HFC and other infants who are separated from their mothers due to death, abandonment or other situations where breastfeeding is not possible.  Crises such as these are why formula was originally created and why I am thankful for it’s existence.  I spend a good portion of the time I am thinking about the HFC hoping that he/she is getting full-strength infant formula.  It is only the unethical marketing and profit machine which spins out of control that pisses me off.

I want my child to have the best beginning in the world he/she can.  I hope that my child’s birthmother was able to give her/him colostrum and breastmilk after birth.  I hope our baby is getting the best nutrition possible in the orphanage or foster home where she/he is living now.  And I plan to do my best to give the baby the best nutrition possible for her/him when she joins our family.

And you know, if it all works out, maybe I will be starting down my new career as milk machine once the baby weans.

_________________________________________________________________________________

*Hypothetical Future Child

**For the record, I am talking about The Man, not A–my man.  A is very supportive of the breastfeeding the HFC if that is what I want to do.

***Particularly women in developing countries who can least afford it, don’t have safe water to mix with it and whose children would benefit the most from breastfeeding

April 10th, 2006 | Category: Adoption, All About Me, Fighting the Patriarchy | 17 comments
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