Spawn – Page 46 – Disco Knitter

Heavy thoughts

So. The vegetarian/iron deficient thing.

I’m vegetarian because I think that in our society (and most of the industrialised world – and growing parts of the developing world), factory farming and the cruelty that is inherent in them is not something I can conscience. I always thought that if I was marooned on a desert island with nothing to eat but a cow, I’d totally be apologising to the cow, and then eating it.

It basically came down to the fact that I have the luxury of choosing what I eat, and I have the luxury of being able to provide healthy alternatives for my family. I also had the luxury of good health.

Since being anemic, I’ve actually been concerned about my ability to care for Inigo properly. And today, I had a real scare. We were in a park, about 200m from the car park. I was sitting down chatting with some mums from playgroup (playgroup has ended for the year, so we are catching up informally just for something to do). Inigo was playing happily close by for quite a while, but after an hour or so, he started to wander further and further afield. I was comfortable that he wouldn’t go too far, but of course, eventually, he did. I got up to grab him, and he started running. I sped up, but felt like I was likely to collapse at every step. I literally could not run. I couldn’t run to save my child, who was running headlong into a carpark. I went as fast as I could, and I caught him in a disabled parking spot, just inside the carpark. Thank goodness there were no moving cars at the time, but that did nothing to calm me down. It was all I could do just to carry him back to the picnic blanket without crying hysterically.

So yes, I am feeling better. Much, much better than I was at my worst. But I’ve decided that right now I can’t afford the luxury of refusing to eat meat. I can still make ethical choices, and next Tuesday, I am going here, and I am going to eat a steak. Anyone want to join me? Fe, I am looking at you!

But I’m still going to think of myself as a vegetarian. And when my iron levels normalise, I will be again. But for now, I need to protect my family, and apologise to the cow later.

And one more thing. I read this today, and am reminded of how special the ability to give blood is. What a difference it can make to a life, to someone you’ll probably never know. And what I found out last time I gave blood, that makes my blood extra special.

The big and heavy question – should I eat animals so I can save lives? Or do I think too much? Or is it just normal to think about the big picture just after a cancer scare?

So, readers, lurkers especially, what do you think? Self indulgent pap, or good sense?

Oh – and P.S. Fe asked if this meant that I will become “a meat eater” again, and I thought about it. But my touchstone is Inigo. I wouldn’t want him to see me eating meat, and I wouldn’t want him eating meat until he is old enough to make the choice for himself. So no, this is just for now, until my iron levels normalise.

The babies are coming!

Somersaults!

The Birthday Party

Inigo’s little party went really well. It was just grandparents, godparents, and aunts, uncles and cousins – 17 people, but it still seemed like a lovely intimate gathering.

We met at Putney Park (Inigo’s favourite park), and silly me forgot to factor in all the other people who would be having parties at the same time, so we couldn’t get a picnic table. Thanks to Bev amp; Ted, and Mum and Dad, who brought tables, we were able to set up in a lovely shady spot, and Inigo had the time of his life.

As well as being surrounded by his favourite people and being allowed to eat cake (and icing for the first time ever!), he got presents!

Bev and Ted got him some lovely clothes, and Ted made the best play kitchen! Inigo has been loving helping me in the kitchen, so the play kitchen is going to get a lot of use in the next few years – and it’s so much nicer than the horrible plastic ones that you pay hundreds of dollars for.

He also got a treasury of Winnie the Pooh stories from Aunty Jane, a book that he will be able to treasure for a lifetime, and a couple of fabulous shirts. And accessories for his new kitchen – a proper Italian pasta cooking set, and a beautiful tea set. A very lucky boy indeed.

And a lovely time was had by all.

The cake is in the oven

The Rainbow Cake. I got off the plane last night at 9pm, came home and passed out. Then this morning we went to Lara’s Graden for the first working bee. Inigo was a bit out of sorts, so we didn’t make it to the CAAH rally for relationship equality. We came home and Inigo was ratty for a few hours, then started projectile vomiting for nearly an hour, not keeping anything down.

An hour later, he had a breastfeed, and is now sleeping peacefully. Maybe he’ll be ok for his little party tomorrow, maybe not.

But the cake will be gorgeous 🙂

Happy Birthday Oscar!

We were privileged to be invited to Miriam’s parents farm on Sunday to celebrate Oscar’s birthday. Miriam’s lovely mother, Malle, also made a cake for Inigo, just like his mother he got to celebrate his birthday a week early, and I think the celebrations will go on for a while 🙂

Pictures here. Sorry, I am too lazy to link them properly, might get around to it later.

Inigo’s blood results

Spoke to the paed yesterday, Inigo’s Iron levels are fine, as is his zinc.

What a relief!

Poor baby

At our visit to the pediatrician on Monday, she suggested an iron test for Inigo. And though I hate putting him through unnecessary medical procedures, iron is vital for brain development in little ones, and if they miss out, that development just doesn’t happen. So on this one, I decided to err on the side of caution.

And I was so brave and organised. I put off the test until today, when he would have a lovely morning at playgroup (Julie read his favourite book, Fancy Nancy as a special treat), he ate three bowls of fruit, and rocked the Hokey Pokey. He had a sandwich on the way to the hospital, and popped in to the lovely women at the audiology department to book his follow on test in three months time. Then it was off to Pathology. Just follow the screams…

We waited our turn, and Squish was pretty good, if a little tired and cranky. One mum was in the waiting room listening to her child get his procedure done. The nurse came out to ask if she was going to come in and she refused. It blew my tiny mind that any mother could choose to let her baby go through something like that without his mama there. Heartbreaking.

Inigo was next. It was awful. We’ve done this heaps of times before, but this time he is older, more aware, more frightened.

The guy was quick, very sweet with Inigo, and it was over very quickly. Inigo was hysterical, but that was what I was expecting, and I had some watermelon in my bag ready for distracting him when we got back to the waiting room. But then he called us back. The test called for three vials of blood, but he had only drawn two. He had to puncture the other arm.

As you can imagine, it was torture. And I just couldn’t fall apart, I had to be present for him. He was absolutely inconsolable, the terrible sobbing continued for at least five minutes, it was ages before he could even look at the watermelon. For a kid as stomach driven as this one, that is pretty severe. And then he’d eat a bit of watermelon, and look down at his arms, see the band aids (wiggles), and start crying and sobbing again. Eventually, I took off the band aids, and he’s had a long nap, and a lovely visit with friends.

Hopefully, his iron will be fine, and we won’t ever need to test him again.

Oh, and today Inigo started singing. He’s been mubling along to songs (in tune) for quite a while now, but today he started using actual words in Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. It sounds like he’s going to inherit his fathers gorgeous singing voice.

And one more thing. We have official confirmation that he can sleep through the smoke alarm.

Government Breastfeeding Strategy – My response

There has been quite a bit of negative feedback in the media about the new breastfeeding strategy in the past few days. Many “opinion pieces” have attacked the strategy for “making mums feel guilty” for not breastfeeding.

This is a complete crock of shit.

Ask the mother of a child that was killed in a car accident before seatbelt laws if she feels guilty for not knowing about seat belts. Or a man dying of lung cancer if he feels guilty for smoking. The melanoma patient that loved the beach.

We make our decisions based on the evidence that is available at the time. Sometimes new informations has an impact on us, and we change our behavior. Sometimes we get the health message and decide to ignore it, like I did with soft cheese while I was pregnant – I did some research and found that there had been one case of listeria in pregnancy in Australia in the past two decades, and I decided to take the risk.

I would never tell another woman what to do, but I think it is fair to give them the information so that she can make up her own mind. It is my opinion that most mothers think a lot about what is best for their babies, and most mothers make conservative choices. And yet many women choose to artificially feed their babies. If I was doing a PHD in anthropology I think I would choose study this question. Since I’m not, I have to guess that most women don’t know how risky it is not to breastfeed their babies.

Of course, there are some women who can’t breastfeed. Some women have to have treatment that is incompatible with breastfeeding, or surgery, or there are other, valid reasons for not breastfeeding. Or they simply choose not to, and that is ok.

What is not OK with me is hiding the facts about the risks of artificial feeding in order to spare the feelings of a non-breastfeeding woman.

Below is what I wrote as a comment to a newspaper article that I read today – a new mum that “couldn’t” breastfeed because of poor advice, attacking the ABA, the one organisation that could have helped her if she had chosen to reach out.

—–

The new strategy is about supporting new mums, so they don’t get this stupid advice. If Rebecca had good advice and support when she was trying to get breastfeeding established (or even before the baby was born), her story might have been a lot different.

I too struggled to get breastfeeding established, and suffered for nearly three months. Before my baby was born, I attended a Breastfeeding Education Class run by the Australian Breastfeeding Association, and when things got hard, I turned to them for support and advice. My baby is just about to turn two, and he is still breastfeeding. It is my intention to follow World Health Organisation guidelines, and feed him at least until his second birthday.

This new strategy has looked at the “hard evidence”, and has come to the conclusion that formula use places an unnecessary strain on health services. Artificially fed babies do have worse health outcomes (and so do their mothers) – so of course the government wants to encourage and support women to breastfeed.

And if you’re after scientific evidence that formula feeding carries risks, read this article – www.onemillioncampaign.org/doc/RisksofFormulaFeeding.pdf The information is easy to read, but each point is referenced with the research papers so you can look up the results for yourself.

As for the ABA using emotive language, that is a no brainer. In my opinion, saying that breastmilk is a gift that a mother can give her baby is much nicer than saying giving formula to your baby increases his risk of diabetes, obesity, asthma, SIDS, hospitalisation for upper respiratory illness, childhood cancer, reduced cognitive development, allergies, infection from contaminated formula, altered occlusion, nutrient deficiency, etc, etc.

It is interesting to note that Cuba, which has strong government support for breastfeeding, has a lower infant mortality rate than the USA, where breastfeeding rates are even lower than they are in Australia. Breastfeeding saves lives, and I think that it is time we stopped pretending that artificial feeding is “just as good”. Hiding these facts from women who are making a choice to artificially feed their babies is patronising, and dangerous.

Whinge…

Moan…

Complain…

It’s all I ever seem to do around here. I feel horrible, I don’t know whether I feel worse because I feel worse, or because I might actually be really sick, and the dr is taking me seriously. Normal iron deficient anaemia happens over time, a gradual worsening with poor diet and insufficient iron intake. But because I gave blood on the 15th of October, I can’t have had low iron then, or they wouldn’t have taken my blood. So I’ve developed this deficiency in less than a month (felt like overnight to me…), and that isn’t normal.

The most likely causes of this type of anaemia (according to wikipedia, the font of all wisdom), are parasites or intestinal worms, gastro-intestinal ulcers (causing internal bleeding), and bowel polyps and cancer. That’s quite a spectrum, and though it would be poetic justice for me to have bowel cancer, I can’t believe that is it.

So, happy thoughts….

I saw the lovely Anna today, and she is spectacularly amazing. Of course, she will never be the same person as she was before Lara died, but she is finding some joy, and life is slowly gaining some colour for her.

Inigo has discovered big and small. Today we have been alternating between small (gentle and quite) cuddles, and big (loud and wobbly and squeezy) cuddles. There is no possible way to describe the joy of a small boy launching himself at you demanding “BIG CUDDLES”, and then collapsing, paralysed with glee in your lap. Or his soft breath, asking with perfect manners, “little kiss please Mama”.

It doesn’t get much better than that.