Monday, April 04, 2005

Rain rain go away

remember that rhyme? Hm.

Anyway. Midwife appoint. today and I requested more info on home-birthing. Told hubby I might be interested in it. He looks suitably petrified as he remembers the last birthing experience and is a tad concerned for the neighbours and Boss' sanity. And I don't particularly want to get blood on everything. But nor do I want to goto hospital and be greeted by questionable butch ladies who I simply don't like the look of to give them the opportunity to patronise/bully me.

I had to have blood taken. It did not bode well when the ninny couldn't find a vein. "I'll have a go" was the nerve-racking answer - "er, do you know what you are doing - you aren't instilling me with much confidence. Can I deny this treatment please?"... "No, no, I'm very experienced and I know what I'm doing". OK.... so why do I now have a bruise the size of a 50 pence coin in my elbow pit then? Good grief - that's her just taking a thumbful of blood out - how the hell does she get the *kid* out??

Anyway - Boss can count to 12. Masha'allah. He knows a mixture of languages masha'allah even though some of them we didn't know he knew. He can count up to 10 in Arabic - ish. And I think, even though I don't know what the neighbours are saying, Boss has actually learned Punjabi from playing in the garden and listening to their, um, "conversations", and I *do* hope it isn't swearing...*sigh* All of this was gleaned in the last few days.

I am also seeing glimpses of the four-year-old to come sometimes as well. We are having quite interesting conversations now masha'allah. He said yesterday, "I saw a lorry on the side of the road today".... "Did you, darling? Why was it there?".... "It had broken down"..."Aw, it was broken down? Was it crying?"... (normal three year old response: yes, it was going boo hoo hoo/whatever. New response:), "No, Mummy. Lorries don't cry, actually. Lorries don't have gobs."

Stooopid me. Then he told me how articulated lorries "in the olden days" used to open and shut their cabs to reveal the engines "like mini-loaders"... "actually".

:/

10 Comments:

At 12:17 am, Blogger Allie said...

Hmm. 'Questionable butch ladies' - care to expand on that one? Sounds a tad like prejudice from where I'm sitting.

 
At 9:30 am, Blogger Qalballah said...

No, I just had a run in with some midwives I didn't like last time who were quite borish and bullied and patronised me into things that, looking back, I would have told them to eff for now. I didn't like them and I'm glad another midwife came on duty halfway through

 
At 4:15 pm, Blogger Allie said...

Oh I can entirely sympathise with unhelpful health professionals but what do you mean by 'questionable'? And why is their 'butchness' relevant here?

 
At 6:24 pm, Blogger Qalballah said...

*Sigh* Oh dear I see we are going to knock the ass out of this one as well...

Right, well as a disclaimer I will just say I am answering your question out of politeness as I don't like the insinuation that as a fully grown woman I have to answer to anyone. Especially on my own blog.

Secondly, had I the time and the inclination I could launch into a lengthy (and boring) missive about language, political correctness, the sociology of gender issues, tangent-off into communism and return only the finish with the short version, which is this:

You assume a number of things: 1) that I am prejudiced, which in itself is a prejudice on your behalf. 2) You assume that there is something wrong with the words "butch" and "questionable".

I can only say that whatever assumptions you hold, and that is all well and good, you really shouldn't let them colour your reading when it comes to other peoples' writing. Obviously something touched a nerve, but where does that nerve lie - in what was said or in what you assumed?

I'm tired, heavily pregnant and have a sore elbow. I'm going now before we all fall out.

 
At 9:23 pm, Blogger merry said...

Allie, tbh, its a reasonable description of the PMU midwives. I've only known 1 gay one, who was not "butch" and was my CM twice and delivered Maddy. But i can think of several here who qualify the word "butch" perfectly; big, scary, thoughtless, happy to be rough with people and generally not someone i want round me while i'm labouring.

I never equate "butch" as a purely esbian word, personally the only thing it makes me think of is Mr T from The A Team ;~)

 
At 9:24 pm, Blogger merry said...

Oh yeah, and questionable... most of them don't know what they are doing!

 
At 9:45 pm, Blogger Allie said...

Well I'm sorry if I have offended you. Of course you don't have to answer to anyone but a blog is not a private diary. You invite people to read and they do - and sometimes they will comment.

I don't assume you are prejudiced - that is why I asked what you meant! If I assumed you were prejudiced I would just have stopped reading and disappeared. I asked you to explain something you had written because it worried me - that's all. And you haven't explained what 'questionable' meant in that context and it seems you won't - so there we are. I read your blog as an interested home educator but I am also a lesbian and maybe you did touch a nerve.

Personally I don't think there is anything wrong with the word butch - some of the most wonderful women I've known would happly have referred to themselves as such. But what you call yourself is one thing, what others call you is another - or so I have observed.

I hope you get the birth care you really want and that it all goes well for you. I had a midwife who stood unsmiling through the birth of my baby and washed my exhausted and paralysed body as if she could barely bring herself to touch me. So I do know what it is like to be uncomfortable with the people who should be caring for you - and it is the last thing you need.

Once again, sorry if I have added a minor irritation to your heavily pregnant state. I remember how tiring that point was.

 
At 9:53 am, Blogger Qalballah said...

I never said they were lesbian. I said they were butch. In fact, I know they weren't lesbians - they are married. It's just when you walk into a maternity unit and you are greeted with people better suited for prison work you begin to wonder if you've made the right choice in going at all. And what was *really* annoying is that they had all these cultural stereotypes about *me* (so I know what being on the end of prejudice is like) since my husband is a wog (I'm being sardonic so if any black African people are reading this please don't berate me) - I was ergo his chattle who couldn't speak English and who had no right whatsoever not to be condescended to and barked at. A few contractions soon sorted them out, but I don't want to repeat that god-awful scenario ever again.

And "butch" to me is any woman who looks mean enough to be able to get my husband in a head-lock... which they looked like they were itching to do before they found out he knew the words "legal litigation"....

 
At 2:19 pm, Blogger Allie said...

Sorry for misunderstanding you. It sounds like you had a horrible time there. Assumptions made about you when you are in labour are very hard to counter. They really do have you at a disadvantage.

I was lucky in only encountering one unpleasant midwife who was unfortunately the one who washed me after a jolly rotational forceps delivery. I was paralysed with a spinal - after a failed epidural - and had no sensation from high chest down. The feeling of powerlessness was intense - especially as my partner had gone with our baby to special care.

But we came away with super child number two after all the ups and downs and that is what counts in the end. Any chance you can go elsewhere this time?

 
At 2:41 pm, Blogger Qalballah said...

OK - ouch. Very few stories actually have me wincing but that takes the biscuit.

Can't go anywhere else unless I just hide under the duvet, which all in considering, might not be a bad choice. The only thing I'm really worried about in home-birthing is the amount of swearing I produced last time: I don't want to astound the neighbours and I don't want to traumatise my darling son, who may end up hating any child that made mummy hurt so much. Plus blood. Could do without the cleaning up. I think I will opt for a home-birth and if I chicken out at the last minute (or my son looks suitably horrified) I can just go into the dungeon - which is only a 5 minute ride up the road. (Or probably shorter if husband decides not to stop the car and show me something on the side of the road like last time *rolls eyes*)

 

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