playing doctor

I went back to work, and the baby turned 1. I have nothing intelligent to say about work yet. Addictions are still popular. So is unprotected sex. Anxiety is annoying (especially to the people who feel stuck with it) and annoyingly common. I should never knowingly face Trichomoniasis before coffee. Same rule for toenail excisions. The nicest people seem to have the shittiest outcomes. And I forsee very little sleep in the next few years.

But my kids are still cute!

Elimination Communication

So about that diaper free thing. Before the spawnlet made her appearance I was curious but skeptical. Especially since I don't know anyone doing it, and the most vocal advocates of the method in my world don't live with children. We are sort of trying it. Well, more than trying really, we only go through maybe 4-5 diapers a day now, and she mostly refuses to poop in a diaper anymore. She will instead fuss until someone takes her to the bathroom (like at the library playgroup this morning). I'd say we catch 80-90% of poops. I'm not overly worried about pees - if I catch them, great, and I feel smug about getting to put a clean diaper back on her, but if I don't I just change her. She usually stays dry for most or all of the night, which is kind of cool. She is however in diapers full-time these days, at least partly because she's so damn cold all the time and it's an easy layer. But also because I refuse to get stressed out about baby poo, and cleaning up any more than strictly necessary. She does still get skid marks occasionally, and I am not totally confident about how very very liquid things are. That shit stains. When it warms up, (and certainly when she starts food and things firm up) I imagine we'll get more brave about it, but for now I just undress her to take her to the bathroom. One of the things I love about it is how into the whole scene LittleE is. Every morning he comes over to the potty with her and helps her by "making the sounds." He is also reasonably attentive to her moods, and will occasionally suggest that she maybe needs to go. which I think can only help in the learning of his own body signals, which has not been such a straightforward process. (anyone know when you can call it encopresis? any tips?)

Good god. A whole post about baby poo. I'm so sorry. /shakes head slowly/ Feel free to call, or visit, or ask me to do some of your work. That is all.

Birth, death, and the finality of the Match

I went to see the movie "The Business of Being Born" the other night, it was screened at one of the universities to a crowd of 700 mostly crunchy women with big bellies or babes in slings. (if either of you are not familiar with the film, it's an american movie about "natural" birth inspired by Ri.cki Lake's home birth experience.) The movie itself was okay, but didn't really say much that was new. There were some nice shots of home births, and some interviews with women who had chosen different types of births, and interviews with midwives, doulas, and OB's. The only thing that rubbed me the wrong way was that the movie placed the blame for the US rate of maternal/fetal mortality on the medicalized birth structure and lack of midwives. Which may be partly at fault, but as Canada has nearly identical rates of surgical birth/midwifery care and a FAR lower rate of maternal/fetal mortality, maybe it has something to do with 50% of people in the US not having access to any health insurance, or prenatal care of any kind. Whatever.

What was most amazing about the showing though, was the panel discussion afterward with a midwife, a nurse, a researcher, a doula, an OB and a family doctor. It was one of those moments when I realized that I have lived in this town for a long time (9 years!) and i do know people in this community, even though I feel like an outsider most of the time.

The midwife said some nice things about the importance of surgical birth, and helped to calm the crowd who seemed to be about to eat the OB. She also said smart stuff about how all health professionals work from our own experience, and that choosing a profession has much to do with our own experiences of birth. Which I read as "you will not change the opinions of the obstetrician by logical arguments or passionate defenses of your positions -- she is not just defending her job, but also her own family, and her choices as a mother. Her role in her own family will trump the arguments of strangers, every time."

Which impressed me a lot. This was the same midwife who pissed me off during our prenatal class when MamaM was pregnant. At the time, she insisted that babies were all conceived in love and privacy, and needed their mother and father to be in a similar environment for their birth. She was so adamant that most of the other people in our class were embarrassed on our behalf and kept trying to correct her. It was very awkward at the time.

I didn't know the nurse or the researcher, so I can't give you any back story! But the nurse did mention that there were no nurses in the film, and that nurses can be helpful in a birth too! True enough, although in the states, most midwives are nurses first.

The OB was fascinating. I am totally impressed that she showed up at all, as not many people there were kindly disposed towards her to say the least. eek. She did throw the word "natural" around a whole lot, and only got heckled a few times. I was impressed when she said that she supports drug-free labours in hospitals. Which I believe, although I have also seen several births with her, and been on-call with her. I very clearly remember one night when a woman who had come in with a doula and was being followed by the family medicine team was labouring. The family med resident (who was probably 25) checked her, and was heading off - when the OB insisted that she rupture the woman's membranes. The resident refused, saying that because the woman didn't have an epidural, it would be unnecessarily painful, and she was progressing well. The OB retorted that the rooms were nearly full, and around here it is "active management of labour." To her extreme credit, the very junior resident put her foot down and said "she's my patient, and i am not rupturing her yet." Gah.

I liked what the doula had to say. I'd seen her around the hospital, but hadn't really heard her speak before. She made a good argument for having a doula for anyone who wants one, which would certainly improve outcomes for most women.

But what totally impressed me were the things that the family doctor had to say. I am entirely not objective on this point because 1) LittleE was born with a midwife and a family doctor in attendance and 2) This particular doctor has been a huge role model for me over the past 4 years. Every time that woman speaks, i learn something.

I remember 3 births with her: One was a c-section, which she attended just to be with her patient, which was awesome. The second was a baby who was born flat, and didn't start breathing on her own. She caught the baby, and placed her on the mom's belly for some skin-to-skin time. And at the point where all the other people in the room were about to burst, she calmly picked up the baby, and softly explained that she needed to give her a bit of air to perk her up. All was well, and the parents never knew that things hadn't gone absolutely perfectly. The third was a woman who was all alone, and spoke neither english nor french. I'd spent most of the day with her (and was mocked by the OB residents, but whatever, I don't really know what I'm *supposed* to be doing, so I just get the work done, and then do what I want to learn). I'd stayed late because she told me I could do the baby catching part. The woman had progressed very well until the epidural, and then slowed right down. She was pushing and pushing and wasn't getting anywhere. The baby had crowned, but was stuck, and his heart rate started dropping. She took the bold step of cutting the cord before the baby was born. Everything turned out well, but it could have been a huge disaster. The cord was wrapped around the baby's neck, and was too short for him to clear the vagina, and too short for it to be slipped over his head either.

After it was all over, the mom was breastfeeding well, and I was doing the repair of her smallish tear. This doctor was still a bit shaky after the near miss.

And she hugged my head.

Which was an excellent acknowlegement of our shared mortality and the significance of the day we had all spent together - the mother, an amateur translator (who really worked in sterilization or medical records or something), me, and this kick-ass doctor. I was really late getting out that night. (coincidentally, it was the night that we were meeting with the spuncle to ask him if he'd be willing to help us out in the procreation department another time).

And what totally impressed me the other night was that she mentioned death. Several times. And she was the only one who did. All of the other people in that room were either young women, or professionals who work solely with moms and babies. She was the only one who regularly sees death.

She pointed out that in the 1600's, when "natural birth" was the only choice, 1/10 women and 4/10 babies died in childbirth or shortly afterwards.

And I really think that it's an important dimension in the conversation about natural birth.

For a couple of reasons. Like, if having a natural home birth is difficult to arrange these days, a natural home death is often even harder. Another doctor I like a lot (Balfour Mount) gave a lecture to us, and pointed out that in the 1600's death was the province of women and children. Women were responsible for the rituals around death, and they and their children were who did most of the dying. Now it's old people who do most of the dying. And we can hide death by hiding age. If we stay young, we cannot die. But that is such a silly line of thinking. We are all dying. Each of us has the same number of deaths that all of our ancestors had. There's 1 each. Life is risky, and it will end. Not dying is not a reasonable goal. Preventing death may be possible in the short term, but is no way to live an entire life.

At some point, living needs to be valued above not dying.

A lot of the criticism of home birth is about the risk of death for both mother and baby. Birth is risky. Living is risky. People die. I am absolutely not saying that 1/10 mortality rate is acceptable, there is certainly a role for surgical birth and other birth interventions. But for many women, what is to be gained in having a birth on their own terms is worth the risk. It is a milestone that will prepare them for the task of parenting ahead. Give them the experience necessary to teach their children what it is to take risks, and make decisions in an uncertain world in awareness of their own mortality.

There is a fellow in my medskool class who does a lot of wild mountain biking. And was adamant that his wife would give birth in a hospital. I couldn't help but wonder if she would insist that he save his biking for the stationary bikes at the gym. After all - he would get the same fitness benefit, and not constantly risk head injury and his surgeon's hands!

At the end of the night, someone in the audience asked what family doctors do and don't do. She explained that 50% of women in Canada are followed by FP's for their pregnancy. She explained that she doesn't do cesarean sections, and that the best part of family doctors is that they can follow these babies, sometimes into adulthood, and journey with families from womb to tomb.

I know that I chose right about what to do next year.

epilogue: ran into the doctor outside the show, and she asked me where i'd matched. I told her. She punched my arm and said "f*ck you." Which was the perfect compliment.

Navel gazing queers

Really, it's cuter when he's not coached. Next time we'll get out the camera before the 20th or so performance. . . (thanks to M&R for the footage!)

the Terrific Twos!

Little E turned 2 today!



(Creepy fake smile for the camera)




('eading 'ooks)


Here are a few (awful) pictures from his party on sunday. preschoolers can achieve a level of ecstatic celebratory . . . whatever - that is never again really attainable. Also, is exhausting.

The kid downstairs had a 3rd birthday party on saturday as well. which meant that the two of them basically had two days of unlimited sugar, screeching, and running the hallways. It was gluttony at its cutest.
I'm sad that i didn't get any good photos of him. but you can use your imaginations to visualise all his blond goodness in sparkly bead necklaces, a sparkly party hat covered in stickers, in green lederhosen and tights, with his belly button showing, jumping around and yelling "Hooray for Gay!!"

And hooray for all of the people who are putting themselves out there to create queer family. thanks for crashing at our house, "eating gooks", borrowing the car, making us feel like rock stars by mentioning us in your blogs, doing dinner on short notice, letting us drop LittleE off at your place while MamaM and i work or watch a movie, and having a real relationship with LittleE independent of legal or biological conventions.

If these last two years (and then some) were a movie, the credits would run really long.

veggie kids

Since she has a job involving long stretches in front of a computer, and the skills to find such things, our friend parodie tipped us off to a spiffy cooking site: SOS Cuisine. Along with cheap public transit, easy-access legal parenting, public drug plans and good cheese -- this site is another cool thing from Quebec. It will select recipes for the whole week, generate a grocery list based on the number of people you expect to eat each meal, and let you know which stores in your neighbourhood have the ingredients on sale during the week (provided you live in quebec - for the moment).

And it lets you decide what your household does and does not eat, and tries to offer recipes accordingly. It's either an evil plot by the agro-food complex to further control what i eat, or it's a nifty service of public health to actually be helpful in reducing my frozen pizza consumption.

The only downside is that it currently says that less than 1% of users are "pesco-vegetarians who never eat fish or shellfish", and it therefore can't send only vegetarian recipes. (we got 2 fish meals this week).

So go check out the site, and tell them you're vegetarian too!

PS: check out the cute gingerbread mommies on LittleE's shirt! Another shameless plug - this time for Mad-Âme who make some super cute stuff for mommies and queerspawn!!

the udder mother

Warning: lactating lesbians. Leave now if you don't want to hear more.




So I'm just going to throw this out to the world, since i don't know anyone else who's talking about it.

The extended breastfeeding/co-sleeping/attachment parenting types in this world are not often lesbians, and lesbian moms are not often passionate about breastfeeding. Which is not a specific comment about either group, just neither is extremely common, and having two rare characteristics is well, rare.

So how does the whole thing work when there are 4 boobs in the bed?

I haven't heard from anyone else on this topic, and am curious about how other people navigate it. I know (in an urban legend kind of way) that there are men who try to nurse, and even lactate, but the whole thing just seems so much more practical when there are two mommies.

when MamaM first got knocked up, we chatted for a few weeks about what we'd do if there were multiples (and for those of you who weren't closely following our TTC follies, the month that she peed the two blue lines was a month where she had four follicles ready to go, and indeed, LittleE started out as a twin pregnancy that ended up a singleton)

We decided that if there were more than one little blighter, i'd do the whole lactation induction thing and help out. But when there was only one mouth, four breasts seemed excessive.

but MamaM works on-call nights and weekends. Which means if she gets called to the hospital at 3am, it's just me and the little guy. During the day, he is flexible and rational, but when he's tired, it's nursey or nothing. He has soundly refused pacifiers for nearly every purpose except chewing on the hard plastic, and we don't even own any bottles or pumped breastmilk. So, when he's ready to sleep, i function as a human pacifier in a pinch. He's almost 2 now, and is in no way suffering from nipple confusion - he has a clear preference when MamaM is home. But when the choice is plastic or me, he'll nurse with me like it's some sort of common grieving for our beloved MamaM's absence.

And he goes back to sleep, and we are both mostly rested in the morning. and sleep+toddler=good.

Now i'm familiar with the extended nursing people, and their support for mothers who choose to nurse longer than strangers on the subway seem to think is right. And i'm in full agreement with the larger queer community who validate me as LittleE's "real" mother. But I am having some difficulty with being out about our backup nursing relationship.

That is, until i started *lactating*. Now i'm just a bit weirded out. And i keep checking to see if i can still squeeze out a few drops of milk, 'cuz the whole thing is just so darn cool! And my medstudent brain is thinking "brain tumor" or "homonal imbalance" or "sign of impending grave malady". And i can't help wondering if i'm really as much of a freak as i feel like right now.

thanks for letting me get that off my chest. ahem.

Rural family med

A mish mash of thoughts on my last night with free time before i leave to go back home.

I got to learn and see some interesting medicine up here. just after they finish telling me it's really just a glorified walk in clinic . . . suicide and a PE, enteric fistulas, a murder, and a really sick kid: all in one day! Combine such urgent problems with family-centred obs and palliatve care and the relative down-time of reminding people to quit.smoking.already. . . these rural docs have the makings of a really fun job.

After i finish my selfish daydream, i remember no one has yet asked LittleE if he wants to take on the multiple job titles of "doctor's kid" "minister's kid" and "kid with two moms" in a place where everybody knows your name. I know that there are queers in the country (They also have to use the emergency department at times! I saw them! They exist! They seem happy!) But i think we need to look for some normalizing relationships for the spawn before we make any big moves. (Any of the rest of you freaks or weirdos want to join us in moving someplace small?)

MamaM and LittleE are coming up again for my last two days here. i'm glad in the end that i'm close enough for them to visit. A month is a long time in the world of a todder, i'm thankful that i didn't have to miss all of it.

And as i was recounting to my "consoeur" last night how MamaM and i met and ended up in this silly pickle. . . i re-remembered again how much goodness that salty-dreaming-ocean-woman brings to my world. I could never have imagined that we'd be here in seven years. . .

homesick

Well, missing the people at home anyway.

Here's some cuteness for anyone else missing their LittleE time. Apple picking on the south shore, and from quebec city: strategies that the French could have used had they been thinking outside the box. Toddlers: weapons of sleep deprivation.

tickets from the gender police

So, these past two months have been rather busy.
I've just finished four weeks in emergency medicine. Which i liked just as much as i had hoped i would. It feels great to have a goal again. Not that it will come as a great surprise to anyone who knows me that i'd love to work in a small-town emergency department. And I'm now happily parked in a hospital dormitory in Shawville, where i will hopefully get to try out the small-town part of that plan.

I was working in a non-trauma hospital emergency department on the day of the shooting at Dawson college. There was much excitement and bustling about, and preparations for an onslaught of injured patients which (fortunately) never materialized. The emergency department was quickly emptied of it's usual inhabitants, and the team preparing for the crisis was dressed up in crisis gear and awaiting ambulances. One fellow was left - on his stretcher and in a johnny shirt, and began gesticulating wildly at me. Since i was one of the few unoccupied medical-looking people I met his eyes, and he waved, yelling "excuse me! excuse me!". I rushed over and asked if i could help, and he looked at me intently and asked: "Are you a boy, or a girl?"
Are you for fucking real? i'm thinking in-my-head-with-my-mouth-closed. "I'm busy, but call me back if you need anything" I said out loud.

My other great gendered moment this month with the was on a trip MamaM, LitteE and i took to ottawa for a night off. We were having breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and LittleE was offering his magnetic smile to all the staff (which often scores him free food when we're out). One of the servers came over and told us what a cute little boy we have. We thanked her, and then she got all flustered in that way that people do when they fear they have mislabeled someone's gender. She apologised, and asked if he was 'really' a boy. We assured her that he is, indeed, a boy (for now). And besides, he is only 18 months old and it's never obvious at that age. She looked at us as if we were in on a secret and said "you never can tell these days." Then she turned to LittleE and said "You want to get some more fruit from your daddy??" I just grinned into my coffee and offered the kid more "ah-puhll, ya."

(I really can't take all the credit for my kid's fruity-ness. . . Nature or nurture, he's getting it from *all* sides)