First Day in Kingston

This is the second installment in the series of updates on Tadhg and how he's doing. I am picking it up after Tadhg was transferred to Kingston. We all got to see him in his portable incubator with the team from Kingston before he headed out in the ambulance.
We then went home. We got two phone calls before we went to bed. One was from Belleville hospital, wondering where I went. Silly buggers, they told me I was discharged, there was ample opportunity to speak to me while we waited for Tadhg's transfer, I TOLD their staff we were going home and to Kingston in the morning and they still couldn't figure out that I had left. Well run hospital eh? The other call was from Kingston General Hospital saying that he had arrived safely. They had switched him from an oxygen hood to a special breathing device called a CPAPP that paced his breathing and allowed him to be weaned onto room air. He had spent some time on room air already and was doing well. It was nice to have some good news before going to sleep! I had put out a Tweet on my Twitter account that afternoon while still in the hospital with David's laptop. I asked for prayers for Tadhg because of his premature birth and his trouble breathing. When I logged on to share the good news about Tadhg I discovered that there were more than a hundred heartfelt responses and prayers being sent. David and I scrolled down through page after page of prayers and best wishes and we were both overwhelmed to the point of tears.

I had never expected to have such a response. Mind you, I never expected to have a thousand followers! When I started tweeting it was so that I had a forum online to let loose some of my frustration with the obstacles my friends and other women were facing to successfully breastfeeding their babies. I wanted a forum to sound off without it being in any way personal as it would have been if I had used my Facebook page. I also found a great opportunity to help women who were Tweeting about their difficulties and learned from other Lactivists that it was a way to speak up to people who attack and shame breastfeeding Mothers. But the wonderful supportive community of Moms who share so much love online has been a miraculous revelation. The extent of that love, flowing out to my tiny little boy as he struggled to cope with being forced out into the world too early by a terrible virus, was so powerful and so wonderful. I was blown away.

We went to sleep filled with hope. In the morning David got the kids ready for school and asked our neighbour to watch Roisin. David disassembled and boiled the pieces of my breastpump. I slept in, completely exhausted. When I woke I was starving and feeling a little better. After getting organised and throwing a few things in a bag, we headed off to Kingston. We both went in and spent some time with Tadhg who was in an incubator on a breathing tube. Tadhg also has a slight problem with his feet where they aren't completely straight and we learned that the hospital in Kingston would begin his treatment for that. He would have casts placed on his feet and they would be changed once a week, possibly for as long as a year or even more. We haven't been able to speak to the orthopaedic specialists yet to discover how long they think it will be. He also has a slight hypospadias which caused them some concern about his ability to urinate. He had been ultrasounded to check his kidneys in particular but also all of his other organs. He hadn't wet his first diaper in Kingston yet, but the nurses were very happy when we were able to tell them that he had soaked the pediatrician right after his birth and then again when he was in the nursery in Belleville. Also, his diaper was wet when it was checked shortly after we arrived. The nurses were weighing his diapers and it didn't take too long to reassure them that he was processing fluids successfully.

We discovered a patch of hair taped to his name card which the nurse had saved. He had to have some hair removed so that they could put IVs in his scalp. We were able to reach into his incubator to touch him but that was all we were able to do. David headed out because he had to work and I headed off to the breastfeeding room to start pumping.

This hospital in Kingston is apparently quite breastfeeding positive. I had been very pleased to note the nurse coaching the neighbouring Mom on the importance of pumping every three hours in order to bring her milk in. She had also reassured her because she was worried that the bottle she had pumped at home wasn't full enough. 60 ml of colostrum is actually pretty impressive and both the nurse and I told her so which helped her to feel better. The nurse told her they treated the milk like gold, not a drop was wasted because it is the best medicine for preemies and the Moms work so hard to pump it. There were posters up about breastfeeding around the L&D ward and I had seen no sign of formula anywhere. What was most impressive though, and I noted this not just this first day but on an ongoing basis, is that everyone simply assumes every mom is going to breastfeed. The first question nurses seem to ask new moms is not, "are you going to breastfeed?" rather it's "how often are you pumping? make sure it's every three hours!". The literature handed out to parents details how breastfeeding can and should begin early with preemies but that formula/bottlefeeding must wait because it is too stressful! (The exact OPPOSITE of the policy/practice in Belleville!) And....there is the breastpumpiing room. This is a special private room, with hospital pumps, padded rockers, magazines and breastfeeding supportive reading material, free sterile bottles, a sink, lables, pens, everything needed to pump. And each Mom is provided with a kit including the breast shields tubing etc needed to pump. These kits are handed in and sterilised by the hospital every 24 hours and a new kit provided to the Mom. I settled myself in here and proceeded to try and assemble my pump.

I got everything put together but the cover would NOT stay over the pump membrane. Every time I got it on and turned the pump on, pop, off it came. I tried in vain and ever increasing frustration, tears and fears for over an hour to get it back together but I just couldn't make it work. The nurses at the station near the room had no idea about how to fix it because they only knew the Symphony and Lactina pumps which the hospital uses. I finally had to go back to the other ward and ask to use the phone to call David. I was distraught, terrified and furious. I told him he had broken the breast pump and I didn't know WHAT I was going to do. I took a strip off him with my tongue and tried to explain what was wrong with the machine. He said he thought he knew what he did but couldn't explain it over the phone how to fix it. He wasn't going to be able to get back to help me fix it either, I was going to have to stay in Kingston. The nurse tried to google a manual for my pump, but my pump was bought in 2002 and they've made changes to the Pump in Style since then. It is now called the Pump in Style Advanced and the manual she found online didn't help. They set me up with a kit and showed me how to use the Symphony pump. I had used this one in the Belleville hospital and I was NOT impressed. It only has two speeds, works completely differently from my own pump and because it uses two small individual pump diaphragms it doesn't have as effective or as gentle suction. But I was stuck with it!

I was in and out of the NICU and the pumping room for most of the day. The hospital has a social worker for the NICU and she set me up with a room at Almost Home, which is a local facility the people of Kingston created for parents with sick children to stay in while their children are in the hospital. I settled in over there late in the evening. They also loaned me a breastpump, a Lactina, and a kit of shields etc to use while not at the hospital. Almost Home is a beautiful turn of the century home, originally a Doctor's residence, which has been expanded and renovated to serve it's new function. It has an elevator and is fully accessible. They also provide food, laundry, toiletries, loan strollers for other children. In general the place is a godsend! It receives no government funding and is largely but not entirely run by volunteers. They also hire adults who are living with challenges for many positions. A real example of community working successfully.

I was certainly glad of it, because if it wasn't for Almost Home, I would have been spending the night sleeping in a waiting room at the hospital, which would have been unpleasant at the best of times but especially unfortunate when you've had a baby a day before. Luckily though I had a clean and comfortable bed, in a large room with it's own wheelchair accessible bathroom and a breastpump in the room. I found food in the kitchen, took a HOT shower and I actually even managed to get a bit of sleep.

I'll pick up the story on the Tuesday with the next installment.

Birth of Tadhg.

Recent events have left me needing to communicate a lot of information to a lot of people efficiently, and so I find myself turning here to my poor neglected blog. I started this blog last year with the best of intentions but because my health this Fall and Winter wasn't the best, due we now know to my being pregnant, I have yet to really use it. I am now going to use it to keep everyone up to speed on what is going on with our early arrival, Tadhg. Tadhg came into the world early because I caught a very powerful digestive virus and has required medical intervention to keep him safe. I have been SO blessed with love and prayers from my friends and most overwhelmingly, heartwarmingly, by the people who I have been blessed to have follow me on Twitter. The prayers and thoughts of love sent to our tiny boy are in large part responsible, I believe, for his doing as well as he has.

Unfortunately, because I have not been at home, I have been unable to keep everyone up to date on how Tadhg has been doing. I hope to remedy that with a few posts here on my blog. I will start with a post on the events immediately preceding it and the birth itself. This synopsis was initially a note on my Facebook page so some of you may have read it already:

Since there's rather a lot of news, I've decided the best way to get everyone up to date is to write a note, so here goes. I will start back a couple of weeks ago, because it is only recently that I really announced my pregnancy to everyone. We weren't entirely sure how pregnant I was because the first time I missed a ful period was in December. Shortly after that we started trying to get a referral to the obstetrician here in Belleville but were running into problems because of the lack of health care providers here to get me referred. I realised however, during conversations with the many Attachment Parenting Moms, Midwives, Doulas, Lactation Consultants, Birth Activists, Intactivists and other feminists that I have been blessed to meet here online, that I really, REALLY, did NOT want to have another birth in Belleveille hospital! NOT!

So we headed into Toronto to see my old Family Doctor about a referral to a Toronto Obstetrician so we could have the baby in a Baby-Friendly (and non-misogynist!!) hospital. In order to get a referrral we needed an ultrasound, and we had to wait a MONTH to get an ultrasound here in Belleville. On April 26 we finally got the scan and were told we had a boy, and that he was probably 34 weeks gestation. Since ultrasounds in the third trimester are VERY inexact and can be as much as three weeks wrong, we knew we had to hurry to get ready for this baby! We had NO idea though, that it would be days later that he'd be born.

It was Friday April 30th that we got the dates, and Dr. Mark and I sent the referral off to the Obstetrician in Toronto, we expected to hear from him on the Monday. On the following day, Saturday May the 1st, Beltane, I began feeling VERY ill. It was mid-afternoon when I went upstairs to lie down. I could NOT get comfortable. My whole body ached. The Braxton-Hicks contractions that I had been having for weeks were now worse and no matter which way I positioned myself, it HURT. I tried taking a hot bath and this eased me a bit, but then I had to bolt out of the tub to vomit. Those who know me well can tell you that this is RARE. I almost never vomit. I very rarely have more than two drinks even when I do drink, and my usual illness "style" does not include vomiting. YEARS pass between episodes of vomiting for me, I just DO NOT PUKE.

After puking twice more, while having very powerful contractions, and breaking into a feverish sweat, I knew I had to go to the Emergency Room. I had David take me over, to Belleville Hospital. (NOT happy about it, but hoping I wasn't in full labour yet and that the virus could be treated.As soon as I hit the L&D ward, the first nurse jammed her hand hard into my belly which caused me to vomit profusely of course, D'UH! They gave me a bucket and insisted on trying to take a history while I was vomiting. I ended up with a gang of nurses around me but was off in a corner that had been roped off for construction because they very reasonably did not want anyone contagious in the one big room they force everyone to labour in together. (Yes, they put ALL the labouring Moms in one small room together in this Hospital! Privacy is apparently "inappropriate" when in labour. Also, do NOT try to get off the gurney they strap you to! that's "inappropriate" as well!)I let the nurse do a short tape from the fetal monitor, but since the band was causing me to vomit and contract, I asked to have it taken off. The nurse was very belligerent and abusive about it but did eventually concur. Since I now had to run to the bathroom with diarrhea, she didn't have much choice. I also would not lie on the gurney. The only way I could get comfortable, deal with the contractions which were quite strong, and not vomit was to lie on the floor. Of course Gestapo RN was NOT happy about this and constantly bitched and griped every time I climbed off the gurney. When the doctor arrived he thought it was amusing and was pretty understanding actually, but the nurse simply COULD NOT COPE with anyone not following the RULES.

The Doctor did another ultrasound, and of course even though the previous one was only 5 days previous, the dates were totally different, the measurements were all quite different and ranged from 36 to 37 weeks. He also told me what I SHOULD have been told earlier and wasn't, that it looked like there was some trouble with the baby's feet. Apparently because his feet were pressed against the uterine wall, they couldn't be seen clearly and they might be slightly clubbed. The Doctor ordered an intra-muscular shot of Gravol, 50 mg to ease my nausea. By this point my entire digestive system was completely empty and I was hoping just to keep some water down. I asked him to examine me because I was concerned the contractions had been labour and I might be dilated. He examined me and I was not progressed at all. My cervix was long and completely intact.

I went home. I slept. I was actually comfortable for the first time in ages because I wasn't having any contractions. I even slept in, Roisin and I didn't wake up till 10ish. When I did wake, I was hit by about 6 contractions in a row, HARD. They kept coming after that, but spaced apart. They were harder than Braxton-Hicks, but not by much because my B-H's are normally pretty powerful, I'll often have to stop and breathe through them. I was still feeling pretty weak from the virus and from not eating for about 24 hrs, so I stayed in bed, I was not sure whether I was in labour or not because I had been having contractions for so long, I thought these would pass too if I rested. Around 1ish I got hungry and figured that the pains might ease if I got up and made something to eat. They were coming about every 4 or 5 minutes, but not super regularly. When I got up, they were pretty strong actually. I thought, yup, there's a pretty good chance this is labour. David and all the kids were outside playing and hanging out with the neighbours. I decided to make myself a sandwich and tidy up a bit just in case this WAS labour because I was going to need my strength. The contractions were getting steadily harder and I was having to really pay attention to them, lean into them and breathing had become noises now, not just breaths. I just tried to hang on and get my little bit of work done so I could go settle in upstairs and eat my sandwich.I knew I was going to have to go have the baby at Belleville, and I knew it was going to be AWFUL. I knew they wouldn't let me handle my birth the way I wanted to and that I was going to have the fight on my hands that I had been trying so hard to avoid. I had spent hundreds of hours reading and researching every aspect of my own health care and birth issues. I had created a file of peer-reviewed medical studies and health protocols from various Academies in the field to support the decisions I had made and wanted included in my Birth Plan. That was all out the window now and I was SCARED to think I was going to have to deliver in Belleville, where I believed that neither I nor my baby were safe. Previous experience and my research had taught me that their policies and practices were archaic, misogynist, NOT evidence-based and in many cases downright negligent.

I got myself back upstairs and tried to settle in. I managed to eat a quarter of my sandwich but couldn't do anymore. I was trying to hold on as long as I could because I figured it had only been a couple of hours and my other labours had been long and hard. However I realised this was getting too hard for me to cope with and I thought I was going into Transition. I knew I needed an epidural, I could feel that this was the point where I had my four previous ones, just when it got too much to bear, not long before the birth itself. I've never had an epidural in for more than about an hour, but I had never birthed without one and wasn't going to torture myself unneccessarily. My first birth had taught me that lesson about self-care and control enabling me to have a less traumatic birth. I stuck my head out the window to holler across the street to the neighbours to get David. I was shocked to discover that even though I had been sharing my concerns with him all day that I was in labour, he had LEFT! Connie said he had just gone though and called him to come back. He came back and Connie and he helped me into the van. I was yelling with the contractions at this point, rather loudly. The trip to the hospital was short, under ten minutes, but I was contracting full tilt the whole way.

David got some help and a wheelchair and got me into emerg. where they sent me straight upstairs to L&D. I was contracting hard the whole time, and while they were trying to get me into the bed. The nurses were fighting with the fetal monitor and generally freaking out. They weren't listening very well and I was having to repeat myself constantly, I let them know I was in Transition and that this where I normally had my epidural and that they needed to call the anesthetist. They were more concerned with getting me onto my back and into stirrups. I wouldn't let them push me back. They were trying to push on my belly and since it was incredibly painful I wouldn't let them. They wanted me stripped down immediately and my bra off, and I wouldn't let them strip me. Since it is painful for me to go without a bra, I do NOT take it off when in labour until they give me an epidural. They were yelling at me in a gang about all of this. They were saying I was moving too fast to have an epidural but then they were saying I had to strip for the epidural. I took my skirt off and then my shirt but said I was keeping my bra until the anesthetist was in the room. Having three nurses yelling at you and manhandling you, pushing and shoving you and trying to rip your clothes off when you are having three minute contractions with only a 30 second break in between is NOT fun. They had me strapped down with the fetal monitor and they said I would need an IV for an epidural so I let them give me the IV. I was trying to deal with all the paperwork they kept shoving at me while also handling the contractions. I was still trying to get someone to actually CALL the anesthetist because I couldn't get a clear answer out of any of them, they were swarming around like angry hornets and generally freaking right out!

I let them get a bit of a tape from the monitor and then started mentioning that I'd like to get the monitor off as soon as possible because it was very uncomfortable and I really couldn't handle lying on my back being tied up. (I don't think ANY woman likes being tied up while in labour, but I have an especially hard time with it, it makes me panic). The nurse REALLY started yelling at this point. Someone must have found the ultrasound because one of them started yelling about "your baby is only FOUR pounds! Are you trying to kill him!" (Which is of course BULLSHIT, cause he was 6 pounds and fetal monitoring CAUSES problems it doesn't really solve problems, it certainly will not save a baby. It really just shuts up the nurses and doctors and only the ones who are so uneducated that they don't know how inexact and basically useless it is as a decision-making tool when a woman is already in labour) I tried to explain to them that continuous fetal monitoring is NOT an evidence-based practice and that the preponderance of research actually proves that it is HARMFUL to both fetal and maternal outcomes but they were all too busy yelling simultaneously. A fourth woman had come in the room and was also yelling at me about it. I said I do not have to have CFM and she said well yes you can refuse it and then started yelling some more and I finally had to resort to yelling myself in order to be heard over the gang of them. I said:
" I cannot believe that you are fighting with me and yelling at me! Do NOT FIGHT with me while I am in labour! Seriously! Listen, it's very simple. Continuous fetal monitoring is not evidence-based, it is dangerous to both my baby and me and it is NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. Make your peace with it and move on because attacking a woman in labour is really NOT COOL"

At this point they shut up and started running for refusal forms for me to sign. But not without one nurse commenting "well I hope you're happy, that was your Obstetrician that you just yelled at!"

Things were moving pretty quickly then. I had been examined as soon as I came in the door and they had said I was 7 or 8 cm dilated. The Ob examined me herself now and decided to break my water. There was a BIG gush and then the pressure was much less and I felt better. I said so and the obstetrician said, yes, I bet you do. She then said that the baby was coming right now and that there definitely was NOT time for an epidural. The nurses had been offering me gas and I had been refusing it because I have found it to be worse than useless in the past, it saps energy and focus but takes away none of the pain. I mentioned that demerol had been helpful in the past and then they all freaked out again and said "we don't DO demerol anymore, no, NO, no no no!" I was a little surprised because they certainly did the last time I delivered at Belleville, less than two years ago! There wasn't anytime to talk about that though because the OB was telling me the baby was coming right now and she needed me to push. I was quite upset at this point and started to weep in fear. I told her I had never birthed without an epidural and that I couldn't do it, that I was terrified. She did actually calm down and become soothing at this point. She explained that it wasn't going to be like my previous births, that I wouldn't be pushing for an hour, she said it was precipitous labour and that it was only going to be two pushes and she was sure I could handle such a short push.

She was right. It was 1 good push and then a little fraction of a push and he popped right out. There was a FLOOD of fluid. My toes got wet! And he was there, right between my legs. His cord was too short to allow him to be lifted to my chest. The OB immediately had her clamps and scissors out but I said NO! I knew how important it is to delay cord clamping, especially if the baby is in distress. I knew I had to stop his cord from being cut in order to give him the easiest transition and the best chance to avoid problems. She kept pushing David to cut and I kept saying, NO wait for it to stop pulsing. I managed to hold her off for only about a minute and a half, but she told me that it had stopped pulsing. Since it was so short, I couldn't SEE the cord myself to tell. Since the research shows that delaying cord clamping by even thirty seconds makes a huge difference, I feel I did the best I could for him and it really helped.

Approximately 15 minutes elapsed from when we arrived in Emerg and when he was born. Yes, it really was that fast. I woke up at 10ish and he was born at 3:13. About 5 hrs of labour, and for the first time in my life, a drug-free birth.

I was pleased that the pediatrician that was on call was Dr. Dempsey, the pediatrician I had seen at the clinic when Roisin was born. He is actually very knowledgeable about breastfeeding and infant nutrition, much more than most doctors. So I was pleased that he would be the one looking after the baby. He did say that he was having a bit of a hard time breathing and he said he was concerned that he looked a little hypoglycaemic. He immediately mentioned an IV for glucose and there was no mention of formula. My research into the protocols for treatment of hypoglycaemia of the newborn had taught me that THIS was the appropriate step to take and I was pleased and relieved to know that the baby was being appropriately cared for now. They wrapped him and let me hold him for a few minutes before they took him off the the NICU. I insisted that David stay with him.

I now had a different nurse. A nurse that I was actually acquainted with and who had been with me during my two prior births. It was a relief to see a friendly face. She cleaned me up and took care of me. It was about an hour later that David came back. He said that they had had a really hard time starting his IV and it had been pretty scary. They were watching him but also talking about possibly transferring him to Kingston. David went home to check on the other kids and was going to come back after supper.

I was moved into another room and finally got something to eat. I was then set up with a breast pump, thank GOD! I managed to pump about 25 mls of colostrum which doesn't sound like much but it was something so I was pleased. I then went down to the NICU to see Tadhg. David and I had been discussing names and I had said that I really liked Tadhg, but he didnt. Since David didn't like it I was considering other names but since he came so quickly, David said "You like Tadhg best, so I think that's what we should use" It seems to have stuck. He was tiny, definitely a preemie. Large for a preemie because he was 6 pounds but very small for me because most of my babies have been around 9 pounds.

I was back in the room, resting when David came back shortly after supper. He left the kids with me and went down to the NICU. When he came back he said that Tadhg was going to Kingston and very soon, they were just preparing him for transfer. We got me cleaned up and dressed and ready to go.We all went down to the NICU again to see him, even the kids one at a time, before he was transferred. They had him in a special portable incubator with an oxygen hood on. He had a team of attendants and there was a resident doctor from Kingston that spoke to us before they went. Since I was not being transferred, only Tadhg, and I was being discharged. I made sure that they had his colostrum and then we went home. I had no way to go to Kingston with him because I would have been stranded there alone with nowhere to stay. We planned to go the next morning.

I'm going to pause there and I will pick up the story in Kingston in my next note.

Dragonslaying lessons?

So, this appears, is our world. A world where mutilating our children and feeding them poison is "normal" and guarding and nurturing them as nature designed us to is "dangerous" "risky" and sure to damage them. A world where childless women scream at the top of their lungs at Mothers for "abusing" their children because they are breastfeeding them "too long". A too long that apparently includes anything past a few weeks of age. A world where women are so indoctrinated about the fundamental importance of "being nice" that they are ready to light the match to any woman who crosses the line that they deem to be the edge of "nice". A world where crazed "patriots" are ready to shout down, intimidate and even shoot innocent human beings who believe poverty should not be a death sentence. Leadership and Democracy, rationality and evidence, all are rejected in this world. It's a world where "It's my opinion" is believed to excuse the most hateful behaviour.

"I can think whatever I want, it's right because it's MY opinion and YOU can't stop me!!"
and this should excuse pronouncements that Mothers should be punished for the "disgusting" "gross" "crazy" "abusive" sin of simply breastfeeding their children. "MY GOD! that baby has TEETH, you've gone TOO FAR!!".

it should excuse calls to again shoot a gentle statesman, a leader of a country that has had too many leaders shot and killed for simply trying to lead their people to Peace. "How dare you CONTROL me by allowing every citizen to see a doctor even if they are *gasp* POOR!!"

it should excuse public pronouncements that all Mothers should be locked in their homes until their children are weaned because the very sight of a child being nurtured is a crime against "decent" society that should be punishable by years of solitary confinement."DEAR GOD! What is WRONG with you! I don't want to look at THAT. Have some respect, some discretion, some DECENCY!! My children are permanently damaged by the very sight of you!! Give that baby a bottle or go hide in a corner where you belong, DISGUSTING."

it should excuse leaving tiny babies alone in imprisoning devices for hours, screaming desperately for help until they vomit or die because they can't breathe, all to avoid the truly horrifying possibility that they might DEPEND on their family.

it should excuse chopping pieces off our children despite mountains of proof that it does nothing but harm them. "He has to look like his father!" Because of course, if his Father had an Auschwitz tattoo, we would insist that he have one too.

it should excuse leaving young mothers alone with their babies when they've never even been in the same room with one before, lying to them when they ask for help, and blaming them when they can't make a go of it or start to feel the effects of being forced to do a job that takes a VILLAGE, alone.

Our world. A world where "It's always been done this way" is a good enough reason until it's pointed out that it has NOT always been done this way, at which point the excuse becomes, "well, it's the new more advanced way, and the old ways were wrong and primitive". God forbid you point out that current "advances" show otherwise. God forbid you should feel strongly about wanting mothers and children to be educated and supported in how to follow the lead of their own bodies and biology. Should feel strongly that mothers are not monsters, waiting to harm their children, are not an unending market source to be duped and drained of the few resources accorded them, or blamed for their lack of value as consumers because they have chosen to give love as time rather than products.

It's a world where opinions are so strongly valued, but any opinions that are different from the ones held by the willfully ignorant are "crazy" "extreme" "fanatical" and "scary". Where an intelligent thoughtful person cannot allow themselves the luxury of humour, for fear the rejectors of rationality will decry the form the humour takes. For fear that those who don't "get it" will raise a call to arms against any who commit the sin of making a joke they don't understand. Or really making a joke at all when they should rather be spending their time making everyone harmed by the greater enemy "feel better" about it. Would an addictions counsellor be required to tell the people still living in the crack house that "It's okay" you did the best you can, don't feel guilty? Would that same addictions counsellor be attacked for standing in front of the crack house telling everyone headed towards the front door, "Don't go in there, it's POISON" because they might make all the former addicts "feel bad" about the fact that they went in there in the past?

In this world, YES. apparently they would.

In this world, it is assumed that if you are passionate, you cannot be gentle. It is assumed that if you are emotional, you cannot be right, HOWEVER, if you are rational, you also cannot be right. The paradoxes are unending! It's a world in flux, so perhaps paradox is natural. After all, we made this world, so we CAN unmake, or remake it, and the clash of forces leaves much chaos in it's wake. All the creation myths speak of the chaos that lies at the beginning of new worlds. And a NEW world is beyond certainty what we NEED. The questions at play right now are so fundamental, so cosmological that we cannot answer them without changing EVERYTHING. And really, isn't that the heart of the matter? Isn't that where the violence, the hate and the idiocy comes from? Fear of change. The unconscious, as an entity and also personified as individuals, must fight awareness to maintain it's own existence. Hence the fight against ANYTHING that helps develop awareness. Rational thought, consciously considered emotion, sacrifice towards the enlightenment and development of another, all these things lead to greater awareness. Awareness is the enemy of unconscious fear, the enemy of entropy, the enemy of the status quo. After all, what else is greed but the ultimate self-defense? And what else can be seen as the central drive underlying our world except greed?

So, if greed is fear, and it's enemy is awareness, then isn't the essence of the process required to change worlds simply acting to make the fearful aware of their fear? Yes, YES it is. So, we must walk right into the maw of the beast and tell it that it IS a beast. Two things can happen. The first is that the beast will deny us. It is a mind-boggling spectacle to watch a beast proclaiming that it is not a beast by acting beastly. Mind-boggling! But here is the hard part. The beast will try to make you blind to it's own beastliness by making YOU into a beast. Because, after all, we are ALL BEASTS. It's not a "somebody else" thing. One of the wise peaceful leaders that was shot said "We have nothing to fear, except fear itself" and he was right. It's kinda like fighting zombies, everyone who gets caught is transformed. And the freshly transformed turn on the others with a greater ferocity than any other. And it is the very boggling of the mind that allows that transformation to occur. The only way to fight the boggling, paradoxically, is to admit that you're boggled, and laugh. It REALLY pisses the beast off when you do this. While laughing you have to do the HARDEST thing, you must turn your laughter into compassion and at the moment of greatest anger, try to HEAL the beast. At this point, EITHER of you can be transformed. You can become the beast, or the beast can be released. It is very hard to predict the outcome. Awareness of the process occurring is the only way to armour yourself against it. If you are aware that the beast can bite you, you may be able to absorb the venom. If you have successfully transformed your own beast, you have a chance. If you haven't, you'll need a miracle.

But, it can happen. You can walk into the jaws, say peacefully "You are a beast". Say also, "I was a beast too. You no longer have to be a beast, this is how you may change" and actually have it work. I have seen it. It is the greates moment of light and joy imaginable. This is the second thing that may occur, the first is nothing. The beast remains. This is unfortunately more common. But the ONLY way to reclaim the beast is to confront it. You start with yourself, (and always remain there as well, transformation backwards is a constant danger). But a tact that keeps the beast in hiding will transform nothing.

The true warriors, the dragonslayers, the ones who free the kingdom, the ones who give us a NEW world, are the ones who seek the beast. First within, constantly within, and then compassionately, passionately, past fear, perhaps past sense, without.

If you don't like this world, our world, it is the only way forward. I wish you strong armour.

Yes, I Finally Created A Blog

Well, it's been a pointless fight really, avoiding the whole Blog thing. So many times I'm asked to wax on about my views on this or that and issues of time and space prevent me. Since so many of the other fabulous, intelligent, creeative, passionate Moms and Activists that I am blessed to know have blogs, it occurred to me that it wouldn't be such a bad idea. And the added benefit of being able to link to my blog to answer questions was too tempting to ignore. So, here I am. I hope and expect that I will soon fill these "pages" with the kind of insight that one would think worthy of publication to the world. Otherwise why bother right?