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I was really hoping that, this time, the fundie whackaloons were right; that they would all be raptured up to the sky daddy and leave the rest of us here to party on without ‘em.
I guess Jeebus didn’t want them, either.
Or wait… maybe he just decided that leaving them here on earth would be tribulation enough for the rest of us.
Yeah. That must be it.
If you attend birth in homes and birth centers, you’ll seldom encounter emergencies, but when crisis occurs, lives hang in the balance! It is difficult to remain proficient in skills so seldom practiced, yet pregnant women rely on your expertise in an emergency.”
So says an advertisement for a textbook for midwives on obstetric emergencies that appears on the website of Midwifery Today, a self-described business whose mission is “to return midwifery care to its rightful position in the family; to make midwifery care the norm throughout the world; and to redefine midwifery as a vital partnership with women.”
And that, friends and enemies, sums up a key problem with direct-entry midwifery.
I am informed that this is National Midwifery Week.
As tired as I am of the various insert-your-cause awareness months, weeks and days that litter PR media-buy calendars everywhere, I thought this might be as good a time as any to thank a group of folks I admire, and to whom I am profoundly grateful.
The title is a bit misleading, as this is not a post in praise of a particular model of maternity care, or type of attendant; it is a post in awe of birth, wherever and however it happens, and in thanks to the people who help women and babies safely negotiate the process of birth. Read more…
Four years ago tonight, my daughter got herself born. In honor of this momentous occasion, I share herein the story of her nativity. (No donkeys, no frankincense, but we did have the machine that goes, “ping!” )
Well, here we are—D-day. My estimated date of delivery. At yesterday’s prenatal appointment I was two cm. dilated and 20 percent effaced, which means… precisely nothing. Dr. Lutefisk [name changed to protect the innocent] stripped my membranes (without asking, thank you very much!) and said that she’d like to schedule an induction for next week, if the baby didn’t come before then. She got on the phone to the hospital, and voilà—we had an end-date for this particularly miserable pregnancy.
Yeah, Baby, I’m serving an eviction notice on your tiny ass!
Hmm. Feeling something—could it be a contraction? Yes, if memory serves, that sensation was definitely a contraction. I have a few more, but they’re not regular. Guess it’s another bust. Sigh.
Around ten p.m., reminding myself that this can only last another four days AT MOST, I decide to go to bed.
I’m awakened by (oh, joy!) a contraction. And it was hard enough to wake me up. Maybe this baby will come after all. I stay in bed for a while, but the contractions won’t let me sleep. I’m watching the clock; they’re coming every five minutes, but lasting only about 30 seconds, and certainly not hard enough that I can’t talk through them. Wonder how long this state of affairs will last?
I decide to get up, since I can’t sleep. I watch TV for a while, but discover that early morning TV consists entirely of televangelists and infomercials (aren’t they the same thing?) I decide to do something productive. I make cookies. (I make awesome chocolate-chip cookies!)
I’m bored. Cookies are made, and since I have a four-year old, I’m already well-versed enough in the joys of Saturday morning cartoons, so I decide to wake my husband. I tap him gently: “Umm, honey? Umm, I think, possibly, maybe we might be having a baby today.” He gets up to shower and dress. I follow suit, and [TMI alert!] notice some blood when I use the bathroom. Wow, this might actually happen today! I call my mother to let her know her babysitting services might be needed today. Read more…
The envelope arrived today.
The one addressed “To the parents of…”
I had been dreading this ever since spring, when SquidBoy underwent the first of what will become an annual ritual for him: our state’s high-stakes standardized testing.
I have mixed feelings about standardized testing for our son. Even with accommodations, it seems it is somewhat unfair to compare the performance of an autistic child (even one with no intellectual disability) on a test with that of his typically developing peers.
In addition to his language processing and sensory differences, SquidBoy has always been on a different trajectory from his peers in terms of acquiring some skills—what one kid learns slowly over the course of, say, three months, SquidBoy will seem to suddenly “get” in one day, albeit six months later than many other kids. This, of course, has an impact on how his understanding and knowledge can be measured. Read more…
The ScienceBlogs casualty list from PepsiGate grows apace.
I’ve put together a list of ScienceBloggers who have left, are on hiatus, or who are considering leaving, as well as where you can find them at the moment.
I will update this list as more information comes down the pike.
|Sharon Astyk||Casaubon’s Book||STILL AT SCIENCEBLOGS|
|Greg Laden||Greg Laden’s Blog||MOVED: http://gregladen.com/wordpress/|
|GrrlScientist||Living the Scientific Life (Scientist, Interrupted)||MOVED: http://www.grrlscientist.net/|
|Alex Wild||Myrmecos||MOVED: http://myrmecos.wordpress.com/|
|PZ Myers||Pharyngula||STILL AT SCIENCEBLOGS
|Jason G. Goldman||The Thoughtful Animal|
|Joshua Rosenau||Thoughts From Kansas|