As a Bag of flour

Have you read the blog Stuff White People Like? Found it a while back, peeing myself laughing...funniest part is in the comments when the white supremicists visit, and don't get the satire. AT ALL.

Plus now I'm convinced that never mind that I am as white as a bag of flour, white like snow, hell white like boxed mashed potatoes, I may be faking it after all because I don't like the outdoors, summer camp, Juno, or Arts degrees. I do like renovations though...hmmm.

So I thought I'd do a tribute post, cause after all, one white guy can't do it all, can he? I think some of us need to pitch in and help. White People like tributes & memes don't they?

My Stuff that White People like is Earth Hour, where we turn out our lights for one hour on Saturday from 8-9 pm. It has completely jumped the shark at this point, and has a devoted following of white people by now. I mean, think about it, what guy in a poor neighbourhood or the ghetto is going to turn out the lights? It's an invitation to getting robbed.

The other thing white people like? Symbolic gestures, especially meaningless ones. Turning off your light bulbs for an hour isn't going to do shit for the environment. But it will make the white person feel good. And isn't that what counts?

Not driving a car for a half a day---now that will do something. But white people won't do that. That will take effort. Symbolic gestures give the white person a feeling of community, a feeling of being part of the crowd. And helping the environment with a symbolic gesture is even more meaningful, since actually helping the environment, would cause them to have to do something that might really effect their lifestyle.

It's like using those reusable cloth bags? The ones that we are all supposed to use to help the environment instead of plastic bags? More Stuff White People Like. Yeah, the big guilt trip that does absolutely nothing to help the environment since all the plastic bags used by an average family in a year will save approximately one ounce of crude oil, and all the plastic bags ever made take up less than 1% of the space in landfill. Again, actually not using their car for half a day would save gallons of gas.

But white people don't want to actually do anything, they like symbolic gestures better. Especially meaningless ones, no matter how small.....

I feel so pasty now, chuckle.

Living Coffins

Apologies for the lateness of this post, but I've had a slight crisis around here. Owning a home is like burning money sometimes. But I digress...

Today is Blogging for Choice Day in Canada. Yes we're using the A-word today people. Antonia Zerbisias started it in honour of the 20th Aniversary of R.v.Morgentaler. I've always admired Dr.Morgentaler because he truly was willing to risk jail to protect a woman's right to choose, and how many doctors do you know honour a woman's medical wishes to that extent?

Not many, in my experience.

Now, technically this case was the first and most historic....but the case that came just a short while later, Tremblay v. Daigle was a hundred times more important IMO. You see, the Morgentaler case made it clear that the government could not interfere with decisions between a woman and her Doctor. This resembled the mushy Roe v. Wade in the US and as such is a decision more easily overturned. Sort of like when SCOTUS screwed up royally recently.

Daigle v. Tremblay on the other hand, was definitive. A fetus is not a life in Canada until it is born live, and the sole person who may decide it's fate is the woman who is pregnant and best able to make that decision. Chantal Daigle for those of you who have never heard of the case, was a woman who tried to get an abortion after her boyfriend beat and abused her. (Most women who are abused by spouses are beaten for the first time while pregnant.)

She knew that if she had the child, it would never stop. Wife-beaters don't do it just once and repent. Is she ran, he would find her, stalk her, and eventually kill her. If he couldn't find her, he would sue for visitation and custody, and then, as now, a man guilty of spousal abuse is not considered to be bad parenting material. You know, until after he beats the child a few times. Sometimes he kills the kid before authorities are willing to step in.

After all, they have to be sure he really is a violent person before they save the kid. (I guess the bruises and broken bones on the woman don't count as evidence for that----eyeroll.) The solution of locking him up for life, well, I'd vote for it in a second, but since convicting a man of beating or killing a woman is unheard of in this country, or just about any other country on the planet---fat chance of getting a sentence longer than pre-trial custody.

You can read the whole story on the link above, but in the end, the Court closed off any avenues for a future abortion law. Most Canadians are quite content with that since they assume that most abortions are first trimester, and 90% of them are. A few go over that limit to the second trimester, women like Ms.Daigle who are beaten and abused but can't get one before then.

And then there's the women like me, the Bitches with the scarlet A on our chest. The ones no member of the public ever wants to discuss, the women who get a fatal or severely disabling prenatal diagnosis and make the hard decision to end the pregnancy of a very much wanted and loved child. We make that decision for the same reason that people decide to stop life support on the elderly, on the fatally ill, on those suffering in agony. Doctors like to pretend that they can save everyone, but sadly, they have limits too. The Catholic Church even recognizes this and allows live born people to decline extraordinary medical measures and simply die in peace, without tubes and machines in every orifice of their body.

But for some odd reason, this kindness and logical acceptance of a dignified death all stops at the door to the womb. Women like me are supposed to become living coffins waiting for the moment when the wrecked and barely functioning hearts of our babies stop. We are supposed to risk dying from preeclampsia and HELLP syndrome to birth dying micropreemies. We are supposed to risk our future fertility and our future children's lives to give birth to chromosomally damaged ones who be stillborn or die shortly after birth.

I've always said that the only thing worse than having a dead baby is not knowing you have a dead baby. Well, even worse---knowing you have a dying child in your uterus and being forced to sit in limbo wondering which day, which hour, which moment the death knell will sound. The psychological torture of that is incomprehensible.

And what about the children with serious birth defects who might make it, who might live, who might have a chance if we expend every ounce of our energy and time and money on them? Well, we have a universal hospital care in this country. But we don't have income replacement insurance, or daycare coverage for the pre-existing kids. And to paraphrase one doctor in Walker's story, "We spend a million dollars saving these babies, and then we abandon them and their families."

There is little or no social service supports for the parents of the seriously disabled in Canada. Compared to someone uninsured in the US, perhaps we have a better deal, but quite honestly, not by much. Home care is a joke, OT, PT, travel to appointments, nursing, psychologist coverage, special schools, are only basically covered, even for those of us who live in Toronto and have the access to the best care. And socially? Parents of highly disabled children live very lonely lives, society pretending they put them on a pedestal, but practically speaking, treating them like pariahs.

I'm well-off these days, a fact I'm grateful for every single second I breathe. I'm articulate, well-connected, and smart enough to research what I'd need to know. I have a husband who is supportive and kind and am surrounded by a wonderful community of friends and family, but even I'm not sure I could make it through the 24/7 rollercoaster of raising a severely disabled kid. Could a single mother? A couple living on miminum wage? An immigrant family without much english? A rural family who have to drive 6 hours each way to Toronto for check-ups with special clinics?

If it makes me scared, I can't imagine trying to walk a mile in their shoes.

So, our choice is a sad one at best. Society judges us, no one ever hears our side, and the medical profession tries to help us with the only tool they have.

I pray they always can.

Delurking Day

So today is the Great Mofo Delurking Day, started by Schmutzie at Milk Money or Not, Here I come. Schmutzie had noticed that there was a marked decrease in comments lately all over the blogosphere, and yes, it's been summer and all, but STILL, it's fall now, time to get back to normal.





If you are too shy to comment, email me at aurelia dot cotta at gmail dot com.

And seriously to the person in the Ontario government reading me, please reveal yourself. Same to the person at Health Canada who has subscribed to me on bloglines.

I have your IP addresses and even your department sections. If you are simply reading my blog for personal reasons...no problem, you are totally welcome, what with all the infertiles working for the government, but if you are monitoring this site for other purposes, like figuring out a departmental communications strategy----uncool.

I have lots of stuff I'd like to blog about, and knowing I am being watched by you guys makes me feel a little Big Brother paranoid, K?

So be nice! Smooch!

Well, for a mommyblog this is interesting

I saw this on Niobe's blog, and couldn't resist. Apparently we're x-rated over here! And I haven't even discussed my favourite vibrators....hehe. So I guess I'll have to start living up to my rep, eh?



This is based on the use of the words pain, drugs, dead, hell, death, dangerous, suck, sex, & bomb.

I guess none of the programmers over there has ever given birth to a baby, living or dead? Cause trust me dudes, it's painful, I want drugs, dead babies are hell, risking death to deliver is dangerous, Bataan death march sex to concieve a living one sucks, and yes I am a bombshell, a damn fine sexy mommy bombshell in fact.

I am

I have been tagged for the "I am" meme by a few different people now, and I have resisted because some of theirs looked like poetry, and others looked like really well-thought out happy pieces. And right now, both are just beyond me. My last post was happy, but today has kind of sucked all the joy out of that.

I am feeling really really down, incredibly sad today.

I am the only woman in a house full of men.

I have two living children who don't actually appreciate anything I've done to have them or raise them.

I am an infertile who wants more kids so they can underappreciate me as well.

I am a gardener who attempts to grow plants so that I can avoid thinking about how badly I grow embryos.

I am a home renovator who repaints and redecorates to avoid thinking about how much my personal life needs renovating.

I am secretly scared that my husband has no respect for my abilities or my brains and sees me as nothing more than a burden, a charity case he took on.

I am scared that he has a fantasy of replacing me with some kind of SuperWoman who pulls in a 6 figure salary, and simultaneously raises children better than Mary Poppins, keeps a home like Martha Stewart, and performs like an acrobat in bed. (This is a completely illogical one, but nonetheless, it exists.)

I am an adoptee who is nervous about the new disclosure laws because I have found my birth mother, but not my birth father, and there is a deadline looming, either I have to find him or he could find me first. My relationship with my birth mother is so exhausting emotionally I'm not sure I want to take on another one. On the other hand it may not be a big deal. I am torn.

I am undiagnosed with some other medical problem that might be hyperthyroid but no Dr. can figure it out.

I am lonely because many of my real life friends are too busy to see me when I am free. (They are only available to hang out late at night or on weekends when I'm here with the kids.)

I am political, a Liberal in fact. I've dropped off the face of the earth politically since the Leadership convention. I just don't feel like doing any Liberal party stuff right now. Too many self-important asshats wandering around obscuring the nice people.

I am now pretty well-off compared to 99% of the world, but am too self-conscious of my humble background to enjoy it; too aware of fitting in or not fitting in; scared I'll end up being that little girl again that was humiliated when she didn't have the hip clothes or the money to do cool stuff.

I am uncomfortable in real life with truly personal conversations. I talk talk talk a LOT, but say little that is meaningful. I can only be open on this blog. And even then, only so much.

I am a pack rat. I keep everything.

I am a lover of order and organization, but I am completely incapable of achieving it alone or maintaining it once I hire someone to do it for me.

I am very very curious about my lurkers. I sometimes get hundreds of clicks in a day, but only a dozen or so comments. Who are you? Email me, or delurk to comment or something. Especially if you are from Canada...I know a few of you who have blogs, or who have delurked before, but what about the rest? Truly, I do not bite.

I am going to go drink some beer in honour of May Two-Four weekend here in Canada.

I am tagging anyone who hasn't already done this, as well as Leroy, Nicole, Thrice, Casey, Manuela, & Mia.