Football, abortions and moles

I am sure you won’t be surprised to hear that I am prochoice. But before I say anything else, I feel the need to say that I respect people who are prolife. My parents were passionately prolife. To an extent, I understand where the prolife side is coming from. Some people believe that life begins at conception. I get it. I don’t agree with you. I will do everything (legally) in my power to keep abortion legal, but I get it.

But I am going to argue that even those of you who are prolife should be angered by the Tebow Superbowl publicity. Because it is manipulative, dangerous and has nothing to do with actually aborting a fetus.

First of all, here is the ad that aired during the Superbowl.

Really, it’s just a mom saying she loves her son. No big deal. But against my better judgment, I went to the Focus on the Family website to see the full story (I couldn’t find the longer video on Youtube, and I don’t want to link to those guys.  If you are curious, you are just going to have to go there yourself).

But here is the story. Mr. and Mrs. Tebow were off on a mission in the Philippines saving the savages from themselves. Mrs. Tebow gets pregnant and goes to a doctor who tells her that basically, she wasn’t pregnant with a child at all,  it’s “just a clump of cells” and that she should abort to save her life. Being a good Christian, she decides she would rather die than abort. She and her family pray and pray, and 9 months later, a miracle occurred: Timothy is born. On the video, they then make a tearful plea to girls to “not kill their babies.”

Ok. Here is my interpretation at what happened. Mr. and Mrs. Tebow deliberately left a country that arguably has the most advanced medical facilities in the world. In the middle of a remote location in a poor country, they go to the doctor, and what they get is…a misdiagnosis. The doctor was telling them that she had a molar pregnancy. Obviously, she didn’t. But if she had been in the states or if she had gotten a second opinion, she probably could have gotten a correct diagnosis.

The reason why I find this ad so infuriating is because molar pregnancies can be very, very dangerous. And the pregnancy doesn’t involve a child at all. Molar pregnancies are very rare, but it is essentially  when egg meets sperm a malformation occurs. There is no heart or brain. It’s a tumor – not a child! The reason why they are so dangerous is because the body thinks it’s pregnant, and begins to nourish the tumor.

I think it is completely disgusting to argue that you shouldn’t abort in a situation like this. God is not going to magically transform your tumor into a quarterback. This woman was lucky only because she never had a molar pregnancy in the first place. Otherwise, Mrs. Tebow might have died, and her four other children would be left motherless.

So, in honor of Mr and Mrs Tebow, I made a donation to Planned Parenthood. And I am rooting for the Saints.

Update: I jumped the gun a bit in this post. K, in the comments, pointed out that I had come to the wrong conclusion about what was going on. In the video, Mrs Tebow says that the doctor told her that the pregnancy “was just a bunch of cells.” That sounded like a molar pregnancy to me which is what inspired this post. But what happened was that she had amoebic dysentery and was treated with drugs that resulted in placental abruption.

In light of that, I find the doctor’s statement that the pregnancy was “just a bunch of cells” really mysterious. Would an ob really say that to a woman who was faced with having to terminate a pregnancy that she really wanted? That would be just extraordinarily insensitive.

At any rate, placental abruption is also very dangerous for the mother. I stand by my comments that women shouldn’t be shamed for terminating a dangerous pregnancy. Also, they shouldn’t be misled into thinking that their lives will be miraculous saved either. The God that I worship expects me to exact a little bit more common sense.

Mother always said I would never starve if I knew how to type (she actually did say this)

Blogosphere, you heroine is having a hard time. I’ve been donning a positive attitude and sending resumes out and trying to network. Since my 1L year, I knew I wanted to be a prosecutor. But for many reasons, we are geographically bound to Boston. That leaves only a few counties where I can apply. There is a refrain that I have been hearing from state agencies I send my resume to: budget cuts. I know. The economy is bad.

I went to the Career Development Office to see if they had any thoughts about this, and they said I needed a plan B and C. I told them I would go talk to a professor I know about becoming a bar advocate (a Massachusetts version of public defender).

Then the CDO suggested that my plan C would be to apply to small and mid-size firms. Ok. Melt down number 1. What kind of back up plan is that? Everyone I know is doing that and no one is getting anywhere. That is my safety plan? Really?

At any rate, I go and I talk to the professor about becoming a bar advocate, and she practically scoffed in my face. Did I know how inundated they were with applications? Don’t waste my time.

Melt down number #2. This one was a little more serious. My four year old actually gave me a hug. He’s been having melt downs too because, you know, we have this new person living with us. So we have that in common.

I’m afraid Jen’s been holding down the fort emotionally, and she is still recovering from a C Section.

I did get a couple letters back from DAs office simply saying that they don’t look at resumes until the person has passed the bar. That’s fine. But bar results come out in October. What am I to do between July and October? One DAs office talked about the possibility of an internship, which I would love to do, but it is unpaid. I have two kids. I just can’t go 3 more months without money coming in.

So, here is the remnants of a plan. I decided I have come too far to not go for what I really want. I am going to wait until October to apply to the DAs office. The budget will probably be just as bad, but I want to at least try for what I really want.

In the meantime, I will try and pick up some temporary work. If I can get something legal like document review, that’s fine. But frankly, I can type. Fast.

V

9 lbs and 15 ounces, born on Martin Luther King Day. Gave her mama some problems on the way out. 20 hours of labor, and she needed a c-section after all. But everyone is doing great.

I know I haven’t posted a lot lately, but between law school and baby, I am so tired I can barely remember my own name.

Do you want to know a secret about our girl? She’s feisty.

Waiting with Bebe

While we wait for the baby, I have been trying to read ahead in Corporations. My brilliant idea was to read a couple of weeks in advanced, and then I can just hang with the baby when she comes. And I have read far into the future, but between you and me, I am getting a little confused.

At any rate, we have a new cat, and I like her very much. She follows me around like a little dog, and she lays herself across my neck like an ermine scarf. Her name is Bebe. It got me to thinking of a poem about cats. I posted it below. As a side note, I went looking for this poem in our bookcase. I used to have shelves of poetry books but they seemed to have disappeared. Now I have a bunch of books on breastfeeding and one on getting out of debt. I can’t think of where I might have put the poetry. Eh, I’m getting old.

 

For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry (excerpt, Jubilate Agno)

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider’d God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day’s work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he’s a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord’s poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually–Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can set up with gravity which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master’s bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God’s light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.

Christopher Smart

National Human Sex Trafficking Awareness Day

Today is National Human Sex Trafficking Awareness Day. In honor of it, I am inviting all of my visitors to this blog to watch the documentary “Very Young Girls.” You can download it from Netflix, and you can see the trailer below.
 

 

In America, the average age of a prostitute is between 12 and 14 years old. GEMS is an organization that was started by Rachel Lloyd who was a former child prostitute. I want to say right off that I think Ms Lloyd is a hero. She pulled herself out of prostitution and started this organization in New York to help other victims of sex trafficking. This movie is very hard to watch but it opened my eyes to the reality of child prostitution in our own communities.

Here are some other links:

Twitter: http://twitter.com/gemsgirls

Council of Daughters: http://councilofdaughters.ning.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/girlsarenotforsale

Overheard at the tattoo parlor

Tattoo artist #1: So this guy comes in and I asked him what he wants, and he says, “I want a big penis.” He wants me to tattoo shadows on his dick to make it look bigger. And I was like, “Dude, if I touch your dick, that makes me a sex worker and it’s going to cost you. $3,000.”

Tattoo artist #2: “You’re already a sex worker.”

Me: Freaking out in the corner at the thought of tattooing a penis, though I do not, in fact, have a penis. I was also thinking that $3,000 would make you a pretty well paid sex worker.

My tattoo is halfway done. Yes, I went and got a tattoo while my wife was 9 months pregnant and miserable waiting for the baby. My tattoo artist said that made me a typical husband. I will post a pic as soon as possible. Of both the baby and the tattoo.

We are trying some herbs tonight to try and kick start labor. We’ll see how it goes.

More Lap Room

We are still waiting for our baby to show up. Jen’s getting so big its hard to believe she can go much longer. Tonight, Parker and I sat down to read bedtime stories. He happily jumped in my lap as I opened up a book about penguins. He then said, “Mommy, you have MUCH more lap than Mama does!”

Just give it a few more weeks. You can Mama’s lap back.

Strollers and sidewalks

When I am online sometimes, I have gotten the impression that humanity is really the pits. This is especially true when I read the comments section of articles about children. Trolls jump on screaming about kids in airports, movies, restaurants, parks, out in public etc. Some of the commentors actually complain about mothers who use strollers on the sidewalk. Because you see, we take up too much room.  Sidewalks are only for businessmen on their way to work.

It was enough to give me the impression that Americans were ready to eat their young, not out of hunger, but pure resentment.

But then I took a look around at my neighborhood, and I thought about how I actually get treated. Now, I live in Boston, which is not a place known for its warmth and compassion. But everywhere I go, there are people smiling at my kid, holding doors open for me, even offering me a subway seat or two. And this is not karma because no one disliked kids more than me until I had one.

A perfect example happened today. Its been snowing all day in Boston. This was a problem because Jen was not home, and everyone else in my condo was away. I share a driveway with the condo next door. I wasn’t sure what to do about shoveling it because I didn’t want to leave my son alone in the house.

Mid morning, I heard shoveling. So I ran downstairs, and the couple next door had shoveled the entire driveway including my space. I thanked them profusely because it is a pain in the ass job. They really don’t talk to me much normally, but they told me not to worry about it.

Few hours later, and it has snowed so more. I figured Jen will be home soon so she can watch Parker while I reshovel the driveway. But then, I hear the scraping of the shovel again. So I run downstairs and they have reshovelled everything. I’m so embarrassed. I apologized and said I will make sure to get up tomorrow and shovel first thing.

And you know, this couple who I barely know, who don’t really talk said, “We are cognizant of the fact that someone in your house is expecting. We don’t mind.”

So I have decided that people are basically kind. As for the others, some people will resent you just for being alive in their space. They are going to have to get over it. And move around me on the sidewalk.

Happy New Year

2009 got off to a rough start. Jen was having a hard time getting pregnant, and then she got into a terrible car accident. But mostly, we lost our beloved dog Calliope.

But things turned around. We finally got a positive pregnancy test. The last few days we’ve been busy putting away the newly washed baby clothes. The co-sleeper is assembled, and the car seat is installed. We are ready for our little one.

I didn’t get an internship with a prestigious law firm like I had hoped, but I totally LOVED my internship at the DAs office this summer.

The car was totaled in the accident, but I like our new SUV much more.

I am excited for 2010 but there are some things making me anxious. Mostly, I need to get a job. I haven’t even been looking because I’ve been preoccupied with other things. But that is going to change soon.

Also, I am anxious about getting my son into a good school in the BPS system.

Finally, my dad’s estate never resolved from when he died two years ago. There is nothing much to be done about that.

So to quote Caprice Crane who I follow on Twitter: Sometimes you are sad to see a year end. This year, I want to send 2009 a sex tape of me and 2010.

So though I am feeling a little apprehensive about the new year: Is that the best you can do 2009? Bring it 2010!

Hair Thieves

I decided to get my hair and nails done before the baby is born because I know I won’t have a chance to afterwards. I used to actually work in this salon on Newbury Street so it’s always kind of fun to go back and see everyone.

I mentioned to my stylist that one of the other stylist had gorgeous long hair. She told me they were hair extensions. She called the girl over so she could show them to me. I know this may seem weird, but hair extensions aren’t really common here in Boston. We are kind of down to earth, so I was a little curious about them.

The other stylist gave me her card. She told me that they cost between $600 and $1000. As soon as she left, my own hair stylist turned to me and said, “And if you ever get them, I will stop being your stylist.” I asked her why, and she said she saw an HBO documentary about where hair extensions come from. According to her, roving bands of hair bandits tackled girls on the street of Calcutta and cut off their hair.

I looked for this documentary, and I wonder if she isn’t confused. What I found was the documentary below where the Indian girl is sacrificing her hair to a god at a temple ceremony. Unbeknownst to her, her hair is going to be sold to a hair broker for a lot of money. Still pretty appalling. At any rate, I am pretty sure I can keep a promise not to buy $1000 hair extensions. Really, not a problem.

 

Update (5 minutes later). The more I think about this, the more this pisses me off. I feel like women are always being manipulated either by religion or love to sacrifice things of value. Then other people profit from it.

Dammit. I really mean it. No hair extensions.