Re-Floating the Whale

I found that the best relief from my tired, aching, incredibly pregnant body comes from placing myself in the hydrotherapy pool at our local aquatic center.

I like the pool because it is there specifically for people who are recovering from injuries or who just want to submerge themself and not do much else.

It's short on people with svelte bodies who are prone to sudden displays of athleticism and for that reason I find it most welcoming.

Access to it is gained by a long ramp and by the time the water is covering my bump, the terrible ravages of gravity start to be reversed on my lower back.

I just like to float around or prop my arms on the side of the pool and soak.

When I float on my back the words "a hump like a snow hill" come to mind. I wonder if Melville would be flattered to be remembered in such a way?

I wish someone would invent a portable water tank for pregnant women which could be like a hoveround/aquarium combo. They could call it "Mermaid Rover 1."

I know it is specifically written in the ten commandments, "Thou shalt not covet they neighbor's mobility scooter" but sometimes when I see my elderly neighbor whizzing out of the driveway in his with a jaunty orange flag flapping in the breeze behind him, I feel the creep of envy.

The worst part of the pool experience is getting out again. Each step up the ramp leaves me more at the mercy of the force of gravity and makes me want to "return to sea."

I am fearful that one day they will have to employ a crane and a crew of confused marine biologists to get me land bound again.

This fear will not keep me from the pool however. It's the one relief I have left in these last weeks of tribulation.

Pregnant Women Aren't Livestock

I am due to give birth to my fourth child any day now and for some reason I have become incredibly incensed and defensive.

I am anticipating hospital staff trying to pressure me into breastfeeding which is something I have been unable to do with my last three children.

I don't know if there is some brainwashing cult out there for health professionals that make them push, cajole and guilt new mothers into thinking that "breast is best, in all cases" but that shit needs to stop.

Yes, it is great if you can feed the baby from your own boob as nature intended. But if you can't or *gasp* don't want to there shouldn't be a huge army of Nursing Nazis that descend upon you to make you feel like shit about it.

Lord help the insistent lactation consultant that tries to bully me into attaching my spawn to my teat.

With my first born I tried and tried and tried to breast feed. Switching to formula was a lifesaver and at the current age of 16, I can say that my daughter has grown up safe and healthy.

The eight and nearly four-year old seem to be doing well too.

The free baby book and sample package given to me by my midwife had a section devoted to breastfeeding.

I thought I was on to something progressive when I read its acknowledgement that some women are not willing or able to breastfeed. But then it went on to list a series of health complications and developmental difficulties that can occur from not breastfeeding.

The local NZ news site Stuff.com featured an essay by a woman who had undergone a C section and become gravely ill and how she was treated by hospital staff when she expressed doubts about her ability to breastfeed and asked for formula.

Her treatment made me livid although, the supportive comments from fellow moms on her post were somewhat comforting.

I think being pregnant brings up memories of my time living in the southern U.S.

Despite my mother's dubious claims that "things have changed" I recall the omnipresent attitude in that region that because women are the ones who carry the babies, motherhood alone must be their highest calling and the most fulfilling thing they can experience.

The attitude of many men there seemed to be "I knocked you up, what more do you want?"

I don't think this attitude or the re-enforcement of "traditional gender roles" is good for families.

If anything it seems to isolate fathers from having a closer relationship with their children and put more unnecessary pressure on their mothers to do everything for the children and have no time left for themselves.

I recently read an article in a local magazine about young mothers who had become entrepreneurs because being a 24-hour baby slave was leaving them feeling depressed and unsatisfied with their lives.

To me, dedicating myself to child rearing 24-7 is a waste of my intellectual gifts and accomplishments. I need mental stimulation and to contribute something to the wider world other than being a brood mare.

I will be a much better mother if I am also able to do things that maintain my mental well being and make me feel like a whole person. Motherhood alone will never do this for me.

I think another problem is that too often men are still pushed to be the breadwinners of the family and many people don't have extended families to help raise the children.

In my case, I have a supportive partner who takes an active role in parenting. This was one of the reasons why I fell in love with him in the first place.

I am also fortunate to have his mother here with us and a teenager who is really good at being a big sister.

This is a huge relief.

Overall society still expects women to sacrifice careers and personal goals for the sake of motherhood. We are made to feel guilty and terrible if we don't drop everything and let our individual identities fade into the title of "mother."

Eff that.

I am looking forward to singing my little one to sleep and giving him baths and teaching him all about birds (because dammit, one of my children has to inherit my love of avians and since none of the others seem to care the youngest will have to accept his fate.)

You can be a good mother and not want to spend every waking moment with your baby.

While I'm listing grievances and misconceptions that piss me off, let me just go into a few of the other things I've been reading that have made my brain hurt:

A recent article by the NZ magazine North and South asked why aren't more smart women having kids?

Their article only concerned women who have achieved higher education and it left me feeling icky for several reasons.

First, there was the assumption that "smart women" must have some sort of higher degree. Intelligence exists in various forms and a college degree isn't a requisite for having one of them. This seems to suggest that only the "ignorant masses" or "the rabble" are breeding.

The next thing is that the article completely left out the contributions that men can make as fathers and caregivers which would make parenthood more equitable and, in my opinion, doable.

Lastly, as someone who was until recently enrolled in a PhD program and who is expecting, why wasn't I consulted? *sniffle*

Next issue:

Where the hell does the Supreme Court get off letting a corporation like Hobby Lobby dictate to women what they can and can't have access to with their own healthcare coverage?

This coverage is not something "given to women" it's part of a compensation package that they work for and earn.

Hobby Lobby is not a thinking, breathing entity. It should have no say in how its employees live their lives and what they do with their hard earned benefits.

If the thought of a woman controlling her own fertility or preventing the implantation of an egg hurts someone's fee fees maybe they need to do some soul searching about why they are obsessing about what goes on in someone's private life. Cause that's just creepy. And these people never follow through to ensure educational and financial funding to women who are forced to raise children by themselves.

The only thing this decision has going for it is that lead to another scathing commentary from the feisty goddess known as Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

I am tired of white old men having the power to legislate and control what is and is not appropriate sexual behavior for women.

There is nothing like a bunch of womb-less assholes dictating to women that they shouldn't have sex until they are married and even then it should be for reproductive purposes and that if they do have the unmarried slut sex, they deserve to have to carry any resulting pregnancy to term because that's what Jesus and the GOP have declared to be best for the cattle, er chattel, I mean women.

And God forbid any of their taxes have to pay for the resulting welfare necessities of a single mother with limited means trying to raise a helpless child on her own.

You can't have it both ways.

And woe betide anyone who declares pregnancy to be "a beautiful thing" within my hearing range.

There is nothing beautiful about morning sickness, low blood pressure that makes you almost faint every time you stand up, being bed ridden by a preterm labor scare, throwing up and pissing yourself at the same time and facing the dangers and complications of giving birth.

Did I mention that I have had severe postpartum depression with each pregnancy? There is nothing quite like finding suddenly that life has no meaning and you want to die while there is another human life depending on you for everything.

Only an out of touch individual who has never and will never have to go through the process would say something so daft and untruthful.

And by the way, I'm not "glowing" right now, I'm burning up because my internal temperature gauge has been set to Mt. Pinatubo and there's nothing I can do about it.

Final issue:

People need to stop shaming women who breastfeed in public. That's what breasts are for. They aren't just titties and fun bags for the drooling frat bro's pleasure, they are life giving feed stations for baby homo sapiens...unless we're talking about my breasts in which case, they are disappointing drip bags that malfunction and stress me out, but still, you get the point.

A Day With The Kea

I went to hang out with the Kea at Willowbank the other day and took the following photos:

The look of curiosity is unmistakable.

A pickpocket moves in.

Kati has lost part of her beak but can still hold her own. She likes to perch on my gumboots.

Kea like to interact with new people and objects in their territory.

   Bill shows off his signature "hold your beak" move.

Sometimes humans become a favored perch. The Kea feathers have a wild, musty smell that I find comforting. Their feathers are also very soft and it's like having a pillow rest on your shoulder.

The Awesomeness of Pick-A-Part

 I have mentioned before that I bought a piece o' crap car off a NZ site called Trade Me.

Whenever I crank the old girl up I always listen for the sound of something falling off or malfunctioning.

Rather than rattle off the list of dangerous experiences and constant costly repairs I have had to make, I'll just get straight to the latest loss.

Some days ago I realized that my right indicator light, cover and socket were missing.

This was weird and I still have no idea where it might have gone or when it came off.

I knew there was a junk yard up the road because I had passed it on numerous occasions and seriously contemplated selling my car to them for parts.

A few days ago I stopped by the place, which is called "Pick-A-Part," and asked about any Audis they might have on hand.

The place is really cool and has a sort of country fair/theme park feel to it. You pay $2 to get in, bring your own tools, remove the parts you need from the available cars on the lot and pay for them on your way out.

I told the lady I would come back with my toolkit and she gave me their website info so I could see what make and model of Audis they had.

I found that they had a 97 A4 as well as a 96 and 98.

Today I got out my teeny tiny tool kit and headed back.

The teenosaur went with me for moral support.

She decided to stay in the car while I went in and looked for my parts.

I was issued a high visibility vest and asked by the man at the gate if my tool kit was a child's version.

I was expecting this sort of thing and gave him a rather wan smile.

He told me where to find the Euro car section and sent me on my way.

I waddled off in that direction and soon found a blue Audi just like mine at the edge of the lot.

The part I needed was easy to pry out with my needle-nosed pliers and to my great relief, the whole assembly came out in one piece. It only needed to be separated from the plug wiring it into the car.

As I waddled back toward the office I got a double takes from two of the other guys out there harvesting parts for their cars.

I guess they don't get too many heavily pregnant shoppers on the lot.

I paid for the part at the office and the grand total was $11.

I returned to my car and triumphantly and showed the assembly to the teenosaur. She looked up briefly from her magazine before continuing with her reading.

I attached the socket to the plug and slid the two prongs into their holders. It fit beautifully.

I put the key in the ignition and turned on the right hand turn signal. It blinked steadily at the front of the car just as it should.

I did a small victory dance while the teenosaur looked around nervously to make sure no one was watching.

To recap:

Entry to Pick-A-Part: $2
Part Purchase: $ 11
Cost of Labor: $0

Grand total for the repair: $13

I will keep this place first in my thoughts for any future parts purchases.

With my piece o' crap Audi, there are bound to be plenty.

Things I Have Learned About Israel

When you live in America, especially in one of the Southern States it is rare to hear anyone criticize Israel.

In the Heart of Dixie you get the occasional "the Jews don't believe in the baby Jesus!" but this is usually overlooked by the fact that there is an Old Testament Pentateuch/Torah connection.

In the U.S., the dominant Judeo-Christian beliefs and total fear, suspicion and disdain of Islam coupled with the lack of knowing any real, live Muslims means one side can easily dominate the conversation when nasty conflicts break out in in the Middle East.

This was my life until I moved to California and actually met some real, live Palestinians.

Along the way I also met some real, live Iraqis, Iranians, Afghans and Egyptians who have become close friends and respected academic colleagues. But this post isn't about them so I'll not digress further.

My daughter's best friend when we lived in northern California was a girl whose father was Palestinian and whose mother was American.

They had family in Jordan and would go to visit there in the summertime. The family was able to get Jordanian citizenship and when I asked why they didn't get Palestinian citizenship I was treated to a bitter laugh and intense look from their mother.

I had a lot to learn.

At grad school in Monterey I became friends with Amer Shurrab.

His family story would horrify me and inspire me to do research on the Mavi Marmara flotilla and Gaza region.

In 2009, Amer's two brothers and father were returning home to Kahn Yunis one night when IDF soldiers fired on them.

His father begged the soldiers to let an ambulance through for his sons but they would not and told him if he moved they would fire on him.

One of the brothers died on the spot and the other bled to death through the cold night. After 20 hours, the father was eventually able to get help.

While this was going on, Amer, who was in the U.S. was calling the Red Cross, human rights groups and reporters in a desperate plea to get help to his family.

From a New York Post article about Amer's family:

"Asked about the incident in Kahn Yunis, a spokesperson for the Israeli Defense Forces said, 'The IDF is unable to reconstruct and investigate every single event that occurred during the intense fighting, and cannot confirm or deny every claim made by Palestinian and other organizations.'"

In short, the IDF could not be bothered to investigate why soldiers ambushed and opened fire on unarmed civilians who were returning to their home.

Amer showed me photos of bullet holes from where the IDF had fired into the walls of his family's home.

Sometime later when we met for lunch I noticed that he was sad and quiet and when I asked him what was wrong he told me that his father had recently died.

I didn't know what to say so comfort him. Doing so seemed impossible.

I would later watch him give a presentation at our school and break down when it came to talking about his brothers.

Despite all of this he advocated for peace between the Israelis and Palestinians.

I wondered at his strength in being able to do this. I don't think I would be able to.

From 2007 to the present Israel has maintained a blockade of supplies entering into Gaza and this ongoing control has led to food insecurity, lack of access to clean water, lack of access to building materials to repair homes destroyed during Operation Cast Lead, and stunted growth as well as numerous health issues in Palestinian children.

In 2010, Israel's Navy intercepted a group of boats in international waters and killed nine people on board the largest ship known as the Mavi Marmara.

The stated purpose of the flotilla was to break through the naval blockade and take humanitarian supplies to Gaza.

The boats were shadowed by the navy before they ever got into Israel's territorial sea and long before the raid they had changed course to head north and away from the Israeli coast.

At about 4:30 a.m. the Israelis scrambled the radio communications between the boats and sent out jet skis and helicopters with armed commandos.

According to the U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea they had no right to take these actions while the ship was in International Waters.

Later post mortem reports would find that two of the victims aboard the ship had bullet wounds in the top of their heads, meaning they were shot dead before the commandos had even landed on the deck of the ship.

Israel's P.R. machine sprang to life claiming that those on board were Islamic extremists and that they found weapons aboard the ship.

They showed grainy photos of people on board the ships fighting the military members.

The fact that the military had no legal right to be on the ship was left out of the narrative for maximum emotional effect.

In reality, those on board the ships were a mixture of activists and human rights workers from various countries.

The "weapons" found were the knives located in the ship's kitchen and a ceremonial sword that was kept below deck.

The ships were forced to dock at an Israeli port and the passengers were made to sign incriminating statements about themselves written in Hebrew.

They were then deported back to their home countries.

Col. Ann Wright was aboard one of the boats in the flotilla (the Rachel Corrie) and when she visited my school I was able to get a first hand interview of what happened to her.

She said the laptops and recording equipment of those on board the ship was taken from them. At that time (2012) her own laptop had not been returned.

She said the fact that she was an American meant she received a better treatment than many of the other passengers who were interrogated.

She said when one woman was about to board her plane to return home one of the soldiers was giving her a hard time and when she started to cry they "slapped her silly."

Many of those on board spoke of being strip searched and mistreated while in confinement.

The incident destroyed Israel's previously strong ties with Turkey and lead to a U.N. review of the events titled "The Palmer Report."

This report found that Israel's naval blockade was legal.

To do so the report had to site the San Remo Manual instead of the U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea.

According to International Committee of the Red Cross:

"The [San Remo] Manual is not a binding document. In view of the extent of uncertainty in the law, the experts decided that it was premature to embark on diplomatic negotiations to draft a treaty on the subject."

Instead, current issues are resolved through customary law which is outlined in the U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea, a document that makes no mention of the legality of naval blockades.

Also, the San Remo Manual refers to warring factions at sea, not civilians vs. an armed naval entity.

None of this is really germane to what occurred however because the flotilla was nowhere near the blockade or Israel's territorial sea at the time of its capture.

Israel's action, in my opinion, remains illegal and atrocious.

This isn't the first time Israel has attacked a ship in International Waters. In 1967 they attacked the U.S.S. Liberty killing 34 American crew members and injuring 171 others.

On YouTube I watched a video of a former female IDF soldier talking about how she had detained a young Palestinian boy for throwing rocks. After giving him a lecture she ordered her coworkers to release him. A few hours later she noticed he was still in the company of some of her fellow soldiers and found that they had detained him and burnt him with the lit end of their cigarettes.

A friend of mine who was traveling through Israel on her way back to the U.S. was stopped and questioned by security at Ben Gurion airport. That person didn't like her "attitude" so they ordered a body cavity search on her.

She said she felt helpless and humiliated while the staff conducting the search laughed.

When she tried to speak to a U.S. Consul in the country she was given a dismissive reply.

These are a few stories that do not touch on the illegal Jewish settlements that have forced Palestinians off their land or the 1947 occupation by Jewish settlers of Palestinian lands on the recommendations of the U.N.

The current crisis has raised my ire toward the political factions and religious zealots who see nothing wrong with attacking the innocent Palestinians and further dehumanizing and destroying them.

I have read editorials that say, "that's what they get for electing Hamas as their leaders."

I doubt the little children who have been maimed and slaughtered are able to grasp the concept of Hamas and, more importantly, they were certainly unable to vote for them.

Others say Israel has a right to defend itself.

But what about the Palestinians who were on the land before them?

Are they to move quietly off their lands without protest?

Do they accept their status as "less than" because some of God's chosen people believe they have a divine right to the territory?

Hamas is a group of hateful, extremists shitheads who should not be firing rockets into Israel or calling for its total destruction.

However thanks to the Iron Dome, incredible military might and billions in foreign aid from the blindly supportive U.S., Israel has been able to knock all but a handful of these rockets out of the air and then enter Gaza to act in a heavy handed and tyrannical fashion without consequences.

Every time the IDF strike's a refuge such as a school, home or hospital they do so under the claim that Hamas was there.

This excuse stunk of bullshit from the moment when the IDF slaughtered four young children playing on a beach.

This time however, there are reporters and U.N. workers on the ground to counter their claims and shine light onto the persecution of innocent Palestinians.

On the 23 of July the U.N. Human Rights Council launched an inquiry into alleged human rights abuses by Israel.

In the report, U.N. Assistant Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs Kyung-Wah Kang found that;

"In Gaza, 443 or 74 percent of the killed are civilians. One third of civilians killed so far are children. One child has been killed each hour in Gaza over the past two days."

An easy way of shutting down conversation about this conflict is to claim that anyone who criticizes Israel is Anti-Semitic.

To claim this is to ignore the dissenting voices of Jews and Israelis calling for peace and a workable solution to the conflict.

The fact that millions of Jews were slaughtered during the Holocaust does not grant politicians and Zionists in Israel the right to persecute and extinguish the rights of another people.

I would rather suffer an eternity in hell than claim allegiance to the sort of God who would pick favorites and rain blessings on them when they tormented others.

Stubbins and Archie

This is Stubbins. He's a Yellow Collared Lovebird:

I bought him as a companion for Archimedes since he always seemed lonely and beyond consolation from mere human interaction.

Here there is a online buying service called Trademe which is a lot like Craigslist in the U.S. 

I have learned from experience that what you see and what you get off the site are often two separate things.

My Audi A4 for instance; it looked pretty damn flash in the ads but in real life it is a massive piece of shit and money pit.

I have only purchased one item from Trademe that has caused me 100% satisfaction and that was my Fijian Kauri custom made table that a recently widowed woman was selling. 

It was everything it seemed to be and its warm glowing wood is a jewel in the dining room.

I have a theory that Archimedes once had a companion but when I went to the pet store to look at birds he was the odd man out.

Lovebirds are very sensitive and can pine for a long time if they lose a mate. 

My mother the family therapist said she thought he might have some grieving and separation issues.

Anyway, I found a lady on Trademe who was selling lovebirds for cheap and I decided to buy one.

I bought a little carrying cage for it and watched as she scooped it out of the larger cage and put it into mine.

As soon as I got him home I put his cage out in the conservatory and let Archimedes out so they could interact and talk to each other.

They called to each other and Archimedes landed on his little cage and inspected him closely.

I finally moved the new guy into the larger cage and was a little anxious that Archimedes would bully him a bit.

He did. So I removed his swing and happy hut and other things that he would see as his.

After trying to mate with the new birds several times, Archimedes settled into a routine of allopreening and then bullying the new bird.

I soon noticed to my chagrin that the newbie had an injury over one eye and that his feet were deformed so perching was not easy for him.

Parrots have zygodactylous feet which means they should have two toes facing forward and two facing backwards. All of the newbie's faced forward.

I quickly began to admire him though because, despite this and being bullied by Archimedes he stubbornly held his own and managed to perch anyway.

At night he would sleep at the bottom of the cage so I bought him his own happy hut to keep him warm and comfortable.

Unlike Archimedes, I could pick up and pet the new bird and he would not flip out.

So a few weeks have gone by and the two young bachelors have become good friends.

I've named the new bird Stubbins because his little feet are stubby. 

His eye injury has healed completely.

As you can see from the pictures below, he and Archimedes have formed an attachment to each other and seem to be getting along quite well.

Alexander the Fidgety

Nick and his mum and I were out looking at laptops on Saturday when I started having regular and powerful contractions.

I called the midwife and she told me to head to the hospital.

Just that morning I had an ultrasound of the baby because the midwife thought I was a bit big for 33 weeks of pregnancy.

The result was the image of a full cheeked healthy baby who had all his important parts working the way they should.

But there I was, later that day, plunked into the maternity ward and strapped up to a fetal heart monitor.

To my left was a giant window overlooking Hagley Park in the fleeting winter light and beyond that were cranes and empty buildings that told the story of the slow Christchurch rebuild.

I felt excited because this pregnancy has gotten to the miserable phase most pregnancies do and I was ready for it to end.

Why shouldn't baby Alex come now if he really wanted to?

I'm an indulgent mother I suppose.

I was trying to mentally prepare myself for the coming struggle and the word epidural hung on my lips.

The midwife arrived looking flustered (she's pregnant too) and I asked to make sure she was feeling okay.

The doctor on duty appeared to be a young Indian Fijian and I liked him immediately.

I was poked prodded and tested and tested positive for fetal fibronectin- a substance that apparently causes the placenta to come "unglued" from the uterus.

Preterm labor seemed imminent and I was told I would be spending the weekend under observation.

And so followed a sleepless night in the baking hot maternity ward (it's kept warm for the babies).

I received two shots of steroids and pills at eight hour intervals to stop my contractions.

I was given a list of ills that could befall the baby if he came too soon and I felt guilty for having been glad he was on the way.

My blood pressure was always good and the baby was moving with his usual gusto.

All the nurses and doctors and midwives were very kind but I hated being in that hospital all the same.

I wanted to get out and run away. I wanted to go home and do laundry. I wanted to fuss over my lovebirds and water my plants. Anything except the pseudo prison experience of a hospital stay.

People are there to look after you but you cannot exercise your free will and leave.

It drives me crazy and makes a thousand little things feel like the end of the world.

When Nick and his mum left the first night I felt sad and lonely and wanted to cry.

I suppose I will never get over the stay I had at a military hospital for depression several years ago. There was hopelessness and despair in abundance and I'm not sure how I survived the pre, actual or post experience there. Many of the patients had given up on wanting to live and at times I felt the same way.

I thought it would be nice to just go home and give birth in the bathtub but if the sprog comes early he will likely need the kind of care that a caring partner, older sister and paternal grandmother are unable to give.

I was released to go home today and was so relieved to get into my own bed.

Nick's mom was kind enough to do our laundry and clean the house and make dinner and I am so grateful for her help that I don't feel I can say thank you enough times.

Every time I get up from the bed I have strong contractions.

I feel like a certain stubborn baby is about to make his way into the world whether or not medical science thinks its in his best interest.

For now I will just lay in my bed and wait.