Since I can't seem to get around to writing...

...I hope that a short video will do for now.

Please excuse Scott's belch and my snort. Poor Kai. Only seven months old and his parents are already proving to be humiliating.

A Word from the Wise

Canadians are less than a month away from another election, which is expected to cost about $300 million. Although the result of the election will likely be similar to the pathetic set-up we currently have, I think that the election is necessary. "The Harper Government" (formerly and properly known as The Government of Canada) was found in contempt of Parliament, plus it tabled a budget that it knew full well would not satisfy the opposition parties.

Allow me to share the thoughts of someone far more articulate on these matters than I am.

In thinking about what I could do to try to help make a positive difference during this important election, I decided that I could at least communicate my concerns. I hope that you will bear with me in considering my observations as noted below. Feel free to share this with others if you so wish.

Unlike many Canadians (apparently), I believe that this election is very necessary, and critical to the future of our country. The Conservatives claim that they offer leadership and stability. I think it is essential to ask in what direction the leadership wishes to take us, and what principles will guide them in making important decisions on our behalf. In my view the record of the minority Conservative government speaks loudly and clearly that they operate on the basis of principles that are undemocratic and deleterious to the health of our collective society. They also claim fiscal responsibility, which I find ludicrous in the light of their record of turning large surpluses into massive deficits. I believe that five more years of this kind of “leadership” and “fiscal responsibility” would be disastrous.

With the best of intentions for the future health of our democratic country, Dave.


My problems with the Conservatives under Steven Harper

I respect folks who put themselves forward as candidates to represent us in our federal, provincial, and municipal governments. They are willing to sacrifice a great deal of their time and their personal lives to fulfill their democratic responsibilities. So when a candidate knocks on my door, I would like to be able to engage in an open and honest discussion about the needs of our country and its citizens, and about the priorities for expending our collective resources to meet those needs.

I have observed the actions of our current Conservative minority government and I am so disillusioned that I fear I will be unable to be rational when speaking to a Conservative candidate. Thus, I have recorded my difficulties with the current federal government and I plan to hand a copy of the following to our local candidate when he appears at my door. These notes are not in any particular order of priority. Some are more damaging to the concept of democracy and good government than others. Taken as a whole, the cumulative effect is chilling.

· Contempt of our democratic traditions and procedures – refusing to provide information required by our elected representatives. This has led to the vote of non-confidence, which brought down the “Harper Government”, and resulted in this very necessary election.

· Deliberately misleading Canadians whose understanding of civics is sorely lacking – e.g., calling a coalition undemocratic.

· Twisting the truth – claiming that cancellation of the long form census was endorsed by Statistics Canada (this led to the resignation of the head of Statistics Canada in protest); attempting to deflect blame for cancelling federal support for Kairos (a non-denominational charitable organization supporting good work in the Middle East and elsewhere), and then denying responsibility in testimony before a Parliamentary Committee.

· Demonstrating unbridled arrogance – calling our Government of Canada the Harper Government, and using the term on official government documents.

· Accusing the opposition of employing the very deplorable tactics that they themselves use, under the proposition that the best defence is a good offense, and if you are the first accuser people will believe you over the opposition. It’s a defensive tactic that I find very offensive.

· Engaging in character assassination rather than standing for principles - the infamous “attack ads”.

· Using taxpayer money to spread propaganda about their supposed accomplishments – the ubiquitous “Canada’s Economic Action Plan” campaign.

· Punishing civil servants who exercise their responsibilities conscientiously and “speak truth to power” - e.g., the head of the Chalk River Nuclear Reactor who stood up for nuclear safety (doesn’t it seem more important in the light of what has happened in Japan?); attacking the record of Richard Colvin, a conscientious civil servant who told the truth about the Afghan prisoner abuses; firing the Ombudsman for veterans’ affairs who rightly stood up for better treatment of veterans.

· Denying facts that do not support their fixed ideologies – climate change; Afghan prisoner abuse; “tough on crime” agenda in the face of declining crime rates.

· Emphasis on military spending and weaponry, massive spending on prisons, and unnecessary tax cuts for large corporations, as opposed to investment in meeting the needs of ordinary citizens.

· Accusing the opposition of being undemocratic and opportunistic and of playing political games, all behaviours practiced more frequently and more aggressively by the Conservatives.

· Cancelling two of the greatest accomplishments of the previous government, which received the unprecedented support of all ten provinces and all three territories – the National Child Care Plan and the Kelowna Accord.

· Mismanaging the Federal balance sheet – they inherited a $13 billion surplus and turned it into a $56 billion deficit through their ill-advised tax cuts and over spending.

· Holding contempt for international agreements – the Geneva Convention; the Kyoto Accord.

· Using the infamous “ten-percenter” flyers in strategic ridings, twisting the truth to spread innuendo about their opposition, including employing the insinuation that anyone who criticises any action of the state of Israel is anti-Semitic.

· Hiding behind “national security” to suppress information that might be embarrassing to the Conservative Harper Government.

· Disregarding the rights of Canadian citizens abroad, especially of those whose offense is “traveling while Muslim”.

· Ignoring or refusing to honour rulings of the courts.

· So eroding respect for Canada abroad that we were denied a seat on the United Nations Security Council.

· Removing financial support for or interfering with non-profit organizations that take principled stands on matters with which the Conservatives disagree - Kairos, Rights and Democracy.

· Blatantly disregarding the recommendations of the Federal Poverty Reduction Plan produced by an all-party committee of the House of Commons.

· Demonstrating disregard for facts – cancelling the mandatory long form census.



David B. Clemens, April, 2011

Six years ago today...

...Ferris was born.

One year later I uploaded my first blog post. It was about Ferris.

Ferris is not the smartest dog, or the most obedient dog, or the cleanest dog, or the friendliest dog, or the most athletic dog. That's probably why he's the perfect dog... for me.

Why I won't let sleeping blogs lie

My dear readers, I have not forsaken you, I have just "friended" most of you on facebook. By the time I find an opportunity to blog about something, it is old news to anyone who has read my facebook status lately. I ask myself who would want to read a long, rambling post when they can get the gist of things in a sentence or two? We're about to find out.

Blogs create a funny sort of relationship. Several of my facebook friends are people I first met through blogging. Some of them have stopped updating their blogs, as I nearly did, but I still keep in touch with them regularly. I sometimes forget that I have never met these fellow bloggers in person. I am closer to them than I am to those facebook friends from high school who weren't actually my friends when we were students. Facebook, too, creates odd relationships.

From time to time I still drop by the long-neglected blogs of people who I never befriended on facebook. I don't know their surnames, their specific locations, or what happened in their lives that led them to abandon their blogs. I keep hoping for a brief post, an "All's well, just busy" or a "Here's a link to my new blog." Instead, I see the same final posts, with no finality in their tone or content. In fact, some speak of new beginnings. One blog's last post features a single wedding photo, another lists a young daughter's first words. My stale comments still follow these posts, and the authors' comments from long ago are still preserved on my blog. It may seem analogous to meeting a friend of a friend, socializing for a while, and eventually losing touch, but there can be far more intimacy in blogging. People share things in blogs that they wouldn't discuss over coffee with a casual acquaintance. Unlike internet dating, where there is pressure to promote only one's best features, bloggers can be raw and open and brave. This allows a deeper connection to grow. In an era characterized by incivility, such a connection is precious. It is for this reason that I continue to visit, every so often, these long-deserted blogs.

Do you see what I mean by "long, rambling post"? One thing I can say concisely: I have met (virtually) a number of terrific people through blogging and I count them as friends in the truest sense of the word.

If I had an idol...

...it would be Dr. David Suzuki. His foundation is encouraging people to raise funds in honour of David's upcoming 75th birthday. As much as I dislike fund-raising, I thought I would create a page and try to do my small part.

Canucks, your donations are tax deductible. Yankees, your donations will warm the cockles of your hearts. (Incidentally, since I've become a mom, I've discovered that hearts really do have cockles. Kai's smile warms mine all the time. I wish that didn't sound dirty.)

See you in February

It's been a crazy four months, emotionally and otherwise. I miss blogging, but motherhood is keeping me extremely busy. I hope to resume writing a little more regularly in about a month. In the meantime, here's a recent shot of what has been occupying my time.

A heartwarming Christmas tale

There is an amiable older woman who lives in my neighbourhood. She always calls out "Hi, doll" or "Hello, dear" if she is on her porch when I pass by. She told me that her daughter asked for a propane detector for Christmas. After I explained what a propane detector was, the woman asked, "What the hell kind of Christmas present is that? If anyone gave me a propane detector for Christmas I'd shoot them." She gives out boxes of chocolate at Christmas. "...and if anyone doesn't like it, they can go jump in the lake -- but give me the chocolates back, first." If she weren't so friendly, I would almost be willing to believe that she was the model for the cartoon Maxine.

If you celebrate holidays this time of year, may you enjoy them to the fullest.

Not exactly as planned

Finally I am writing about my labour and delivery. Yes, it has taken quite some time. Kai has already grown out of some of his clothing, including the tiny knitted cap that he received at the hospital. People tell me that this time will fly past so I am taking lots of pictures and trying to cherish the beautiful moments. The longest-lasting periods of time are not those moments, however; they are the times when Kai is wailing in the wee hours of the morning and I am weepy from frustration and exhaustion. If Mother Nature has her way, I will soon forget all about the bad times and be eager to give Kai a little brother or sister. I'm not there yet.

As I posted last time, I have been wanting to document my labour and delivery. Much of it was a blur right after it happened. The memories get fuzzier the more time passes and the worse the sleep deprivation becomes. Kai is asleep on my lap right now and, while I should be napping, I don't want to lose my recollection of his day of birth altogether. It is time to write, coherently or otherwise.

After threatening to arrive prematurely and precipitously, Kai changed his mind and decided to stay in the womb so long that labour had to be induced. On September 7, following an internal exam by the on-call doctor at the hospital, a gel was applied to my cervix to start dilation. The doctor happened to be male, and because of this Scott was decidedly uncomfortable. Have you ever seen footage of someone reaching into a cow to help her birth a calf? That was what came to mind every time a doctor or nurse had to give me an internal examination toward the end of my pregnancy. They appeared to be up to their elbows trying to reach my cervix. This was odd, seeing as Kai's head had been pressing on my cervix for the past several weeks and had felt as though it was about to emerge at any moment. At any rate, Scott's discomfort was nothing compared to mine. I put late-pregnancy cervical exams at the bottom of my fun-activities-for-a-rainy-day list.

Because my parents live much closer to the hospital than we do, Scott and I spent the night at their place. The next day I had a 10:30 am appointment to be induced. At 8:00 that morning, I awoke with the realization that the gel had done its job; Scott then awoke to the sound of me saying, "Water broke! Water broke!" while I grabbed tissues and tried to avoid wetting the carpet in my parents' spare bedroom. I was remarkably calm, except for worrying about the carpet. I had read up on the stages of childbirth and knew that my water breaking was not necessarily indicative of the baby's imminent arrival. Mild contractions began at about 8:15 am. I called the maternity ward and they instructed me to come in for my appointment as scheduled. Meanwhile, Scott walked through the kitchen, said good morning to my dad and mentioned that my water had broken. My father's feet barely touched the floor as he raced around getting ready to drive us to the hospital. I reassured my parents that there was no rush, and I took the time to shower and have breakfast.

Once at the hospital, Scott and I had a great deal of waiting in store for us. Most of the patients who had been booked for induction were being sent home, as the department was full of unscheduled labours and deliveries. I would have been sent home too if it weren't for my water having broken. I counted myself as lucky. Eventually I was brought to triage, examined, given a pair of hospital gowns and told to take a hike for a couple of hours. We found a quiet hallway where I paced while Scott timed my contractions. They came as close as three to five minutes apart. I found it difficult to determine when they started and ended, perhaps because they were fairly mild. Over the next several hours I split my time between pacing the halls and laying in a triage bed cringing at the wounded-animal sounds of the labouring women around me. At the time I had to wonder about the apparently low pain tolerance of my fellow patients, as my contractions weren't even bad enough to make me gasp.

I don't recall how my dilation was progressing, if at all, but I do remember that it took many hours and a shift change before I was actually admitted and brought to a labour and delivery room. It seemed that everyone was too busy to look at my chart; I was dismayed at having to tell each new staff member who saw me that my water had broken that morning. I had heard that a woman should not go too long between her water breaking and delivery, as every hour that passed meant an increased risk of infection.

Eleven hours elapsed between the onset of contractions and my first dose of Pitocin to induce labour. I was hooked up to monitors and both Scott and I were given blankets and pillows; it was going to be a long night. My contractions continued uneventfully. Scott and I chatted and I remained in good spirits. I was relieved to be out of the triage room full of drama queens who couldn't handle a few cramps. As punishment for thinking such a nasty thought, I was suddenly hit by a contraction that made my head spin. The Pitocin was working. "I need an epidural," I blurted. Scott left the room to find a nurse. He returned with an angel. Emily was to be my labour and delivery nurse for the remainder of her shift.

Emily called in the anesthesiologist. That was reason enough to love Emily, but her bedside manner sealed the deal. She was terrific. I won't go into detail about the epidural except to say that, due to my scoliosis, it was unpleasant and took two attempts. Scott and Emily kept me calm throughout the process. Once the painkillers kicked in, I was in good spirits again. This is also where my memories become confused. I recall that I began dilating rapidly. Parents visited, monitors were hooked up, Scott and I snoozed occasionally... not necessarily in that order. In fact, "not necessarily in that order" applies to this entire post. At some point we moved from a cramped, last-resort delivery room to a large corner room. I was rolled in on my bed, so the move made little difference to me except to confuse my memories further.

Thanks to the epidural I did not feel any pain, but the baby's heart rate plummeted with every contraction. I recall Emily requesting assistance, calling out what sounded like, "I need help with a bratty!" I was lucid enough to realize that she was talking about bradycardia, a low heart rate. My medication was adjusted repeatedly. The on-call doctor came in from time to time. At one point the baby's heart rate dipped to 40 and I asked how much longer he could tolerate the fluctuations. Although the baby was in distress and labour was not progressing as hoped, the doctor said that she wanted to avoid a C-section if possible. That led to many more hours of labour and additional scary episodes of fetal bradycardia.

Finally, after thirty-one hours of labour and a few attempts at pushing, it was determined that the baby was stuck. In medical terms, the doctors decided to perform a C-section due to "failure to progress and non-reassuring fetal tracing." Baby Kai was born on the afternoon of September 9, 2010. He was healthy, weighed 2950 grams (6 lbs 8 oz) and measured 47 cm long. And with that, life changed forever.

Because I was behind a surgical drape it was several minutes before I saw the baby. Or at least it felt like several minutes. My sense of time was skewed due to the medication. Following the surgery we moved to a recovery room. I thought that perhaps 20 minutes had passed before we invited our families in to meet Kai, but I am told that it was actually a couple of hours. What do I know, I was as high as a kite.

Scott, Kai and I spent the next two days in a private hospital room. "Private" refers only to the number of patients in the room and does not describe our first little while as a family. Nurses came and went at all hours, poking, pricking and medicating. Most were nice, but some were gruff and unpleasant. I noticed this in spite of being on an extended adrenaline rush that had me out of bed and fluttering about long before I should have been so active. Our hospital stay included incidents of incompetence, a great deal of contradictory advice, continually interrupted sleep and a startling amount of bloodshed after I accidentally pulled out my IV. I also found myself in tears off and on, which was to be expected. What I hadn't realized was just how long the tears would continue. But my post-partum depression is a topic for another post. For now, the happy side of things: some more photos of Kai.

Gratitude

I had hoped to write about my labour and delivery experience and to tell you all about Kai by now, but I have not had the chance to do so. As well, I have not been managing very well emotionally. Eventually I will post about my birth experience and tell you all about Kai as Scott and I get to know him, but right now I want to say thank you.

I would like this post to be well written. Unfortunately, sleep deprivation and baby brain are impairing my ability to form coherent sentences. I doubt that I am capable of fully expressing my gratitude anyway, since my appreciation feels greater than something that can be captured in words.

Many people have been tremendously supportive while I simultaneously grow accustomed to motherhood and battle depression, but this post is dedicated to one person in particular, someone who knows firsthand what I am going through: my mother. My mother looked after me (and the entire household) during my two months of bed rest. She has now taken an unpaid leave of absence from work to aid me in coping with these first weeks with Kai. The practical help she provides includes meal planning, cooking, shopping, washing dishes, walking the dogs, stooping and scooping, sifting litter boxes, laundry, dusting, sweeping, vacuuming and baby care. The emotional support and encouragement that she gives me are invaluable. Since she usually stays over at our house, my mother is subjecting herself to nights of little sleep in order to give me precious hours of slumber. I fear that she is reliving her own post-partum depression to help me get through mine. She does this all without complaining.

As my mother has done all my life, she is demonstrating how to be a mom: loving unconditionally, sacrificing selflessly, being compassionate, sharing wisdom. Kai is lucky to have such an amazing Nana, and I am blessed to have an unbelievably supportive mother.

Thank you, Mom, for standing by me. If I am able to adopt even a fraction of what you have shown me, Kai will be okay.

Introducing baby Kai, born Sept. 9, 2010