On being pregnant at Christmas

I'm only writing this because I was surprised to learn that Christmas is different when you're pregnant!

Christmas Food

I didn't think this would change that drastically for me (I don't eat ham), but eating on Christmas was still trickier than I thought it would be.  My Christmas lunch consisted of green salad, snow peas (which I love) and boiled potatoes followed by fruit and jelly.  Being predominantly vego and gluten free always limits what I can eat, but what I hadn't taken into account was the whole dressings and other cold meats factor.  These days I do eat a little white meat (cravings following breaking ankle) but being knocked up, can't eat it cold.  And being polite, I didn't want to ask for a microwave just to eat something that I didn't need to.  After having the mayo speech given to me a bazillion times I was afraid of all salads (except those that were nude, or dressed by my mum) which limited my limited fare even further.

Dinner was easier as our family are slightly allergy-centric (there were gluten free Christmas mince tarts).  I made a dessert and main for this meal (an AMAZING nut loaf which I will be making annually henceforth), so knew I'd have food regardless.  I had plenty of options, all vegetarian.  But as a lapsed long term 'proper' vegetarian, this suited me just fine.

The best thing about restricted eating, is I didn't get the dreaded Christmas Bloat.  On the way home, Murray was complaining about 'Food Sweats' -  I suffered from no such ailment.  Following Christmas dinner I felt full and happy and still-able-to-breath-cos-stomach-not-compressing-lungs.  

Christmas Presents

Again, I never thought this would alter with only being 17 weeks pregnant at Christmas, but I was wrong.  I was spoilt.  There were a few extra little gifts from 'Santa' including a notebook to help my baby brain and an AWESOME t-shirt with 'Private Property Please Don't Touch' on it (Auntie Santa's rule).  And the foetus got some very thoughtful presents too!  I felt so loved by my family.

And although we didn't get unwrappable presents from Murray's family, what we got was just as awesome.  Great chats with his cousin and cousin's wife on things pregnancy (and not TMI with opinions), and a big offer to lend us some essential (and expensive) baby things.  Which means that we hardly have to buy anything now to prepare for the arrival of this kid.  Which means so much less to stress about.

I had feared that my interactions and gifts would take a slant toward motherhood, and was so grateful that on the whole they didn't - my immediate family treated me exactly like normal and bought thoughtful things for me.  Many things around pregnancy make you feel less like an individual and more like a vessel.  Not just in terms of your body, and the obvious life-style changes required (because you do become a vessel), but in terms of how people perceive you, how your stomach (it seems) becomes public property and how your way of thinking is questioned.  Some normalcy, especially in a time where you are dealing with many people who unintentionally challenge your right to be an individual, is probably the best gift I got this Christmas.  

Christmas Crash

Despite the fact that recent Christmas's are simpler logistically than they've ever been, at the end of our two day Christmas blitz I was suffering.  On Christmas we only had to go to two houses.  I didn't have to cook full meals, and we were home by 10pm Christmas night. 

By Boxing Day I was screwed.  Boxing Day is when we traditionally spend time with Murray's mum's family.  We were home from brunch by 2pm (after a quick Boxing Day shopping errand).  I almost fainted during the errand, holding onto my purchase as a means of propping myself up.  On arriving home I napped for as long as possible before heading over to Murray's parents to Skype his brother in Canberra (first Christmas away from home) and exchange gifts.  We couldn't even stay until 9pm when catch up was to begin, so we missed talking to Alan which was sad.

Christmas Future

The scariest thing about Christmas was the realisation that in choosing to become parents, we are now naturally a part of a different social group within our families.  That in itself isn't that scary.  The scary part is realising that this means, like all the other parents in our generation, that we need to consider all the other children in the family (our 'child's' peers) at Christmas.

Within our families, that's a huge realisation.

I've never thought about how much time, money and effort our cousins have put into thinking about all the kids at Christmas time, and this realisation has given me so much more appreciation of them.  Within my extended family, we have thirteen children in the next generation.  In Murray's family, there are another eight.  If we spent just $10 on each child next Christmas, that's an extra $220 to budget for next year, and an extra twenty two little (or not so little) people to think about.  It's a big deal.

It's a big deal because not only do you need to think about Christmas time, but also birthdays.  Birthday's mean not only buying presents for each child through the year (doubling extra spending to $440 PA on a tight budget), but also REMEMBERING each birthday.  This is yet another excuse to create an Excel workbook - I'm going to have to spreadsheet this stuff otherwise we'll be totally screwed.

I'm not even a parent yet and already working out there is WAY more to this parenting thing than I ever thought about before.  I am grateful for this Christmas realisation now, when I have time to budget (and spreadsheet).

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

So that was my Christmas - over all, pretty awesome.  I am so grateful for our family, and the little traditions we have.  And although some aspects of next Christmas will be different, I'm sure most things will be much the same, and that's a relief.

On Being Knocked Up

I know being pregnant is supposed to be natural part of life (duh), but my first instincts on pregnancy:  it being unnatural, and terrifying, were right all along.  I'm sure for some women it is a magical time that they treasure forever, but I am not one of those women.  Don’t get me wrong, I'm looking forward to getting the baby at the end, but I am really not enjoying being pregnant.

Here are the top five reasons why I think pregnancy sucks:

1)      I am completely brain-dead.  And in our household, this is a measureable fact.  Murray and I play a LOT of board games.  One of these games, (Dominion) we keep a tally of.  Since falling pregnant, my ability to beat Murray at Dominion (or any other game for that matter) has fallen dramatically.  It was lovely keeping a tally as we usually win equally as many games as each other.  It’s not any more.  Instead of winning around 50% of the time, I now win closer to 25% of the time.  This is depressing.  I like being an intelligent human being capable of equalling or besting my intelligent significant other.  What’s more depressing is we can’t even PLAY most of the time because my brain can’t focus enough to allow it.  It’s like ‘the dumbening’ Lisa Simpson discovered on that episode of The Simpsons, only it’s real.  And it’s going to be like this for the next nine months.  Probably even longer.

And because my brain doesn’t work properly, I can’t do most of the things I enjoy without frustration.  I can’t write well, I can’t spell or type properly, I can’t play games good (or format sentences correctly), I can’t focus on work or conversations with others for long periods of time.  All I am good at is watching TV and reading The Daily Mail.  Baby brain is real, and it really, really sucks.  I want my brain back.

2)      I'm exhausted.  I only work around 30 hours a week, and even this is hard.  I honestly don’t know how grown up women with ‘real’ jobs cope.  And I find it even harder to understand how women who already have children manage to do all that needs doing and not fall down.  These women are super women and I have the utmost respect for them.  I have to put caveats around my social schedule as I cannot do nearly most of the things I normally would and still cope with work.  This is kinda good as I cannot remember most of the things I'm supposed to do anyway, and am likely to go to the wrong place at the wrong time to see the wrong people.

And what aids and abets my exhaustion is that I've developed insomnia.  This is another ‘normal’ part of pregnancy which seems completely unnatural.  If you’re tired, surely you should rest to help grow the tiny human inside you?  Why won’t my non-functional brain shut down when it’s doing nothing useful anyway?  Is it trying to make up for its dysfunction by just staying on longer?  It’s dumb.  I'm over it.  And you can’t take meds or alcohol to help -  although I have occasionally been cheating and taking Phenergan (harmless antihistamine) as it helps knock me out.

3)      There are lots of other gross things that happen to some women’s bodies that people don’t tell you about.  I am glad I watched What To Expect When You’re Expecting – it’s made me feel normal (I’m the blonde lady at the beginning of the trailer)   People tell you about the morning sickness and exhaustion, they don’t tell you about the other stuff.  They don’t tell you about the constipation and gas and extreme vaginal discharge that you may experience, or the bleeding gums (no-one believes me, but this really is a pregnancy thing and not just poor dental health.) And although everyone knows your boobs get sore, I don’t think you realise quite how sore until you experience it.  And they get big, which means it’s easier for your significant other to accidentally smack them, or roll over onto them when you are sleeping, which is a bad thing, and can cause disharmony in your relationship.

     Pregnancy just makes me feel gross.  I do not feel like an ‘earth mother’, I feel like a murderous ball of gas and gross and foetus that people should be wary of.  It goes without saying that I have zero libido because all I can think about is work and how gross and tired I am.  I think that whole pregnancy hormone randiness theory is a myth designed to con men into wanting to knock up their ladies.  Because if they knew what actually happened when they knocked them up, there’s no way any sane man would do it.  And the human race would fail to exist.

And I’m one of the lucky people who didn’t get bad morning sickness.  Imagine how grumpy and gross and not sexy those very sick pregnant ladies feel?  Imagine how their partners feel? 

4)       Once you tell people you are pregnant, THE ENTIRE WORLD knows you are pregnant.  This has already caused a terrifying encounter for me, also known as Murray’s Work Christmas Do.  EVERYONE at his work knows I’m pregnant (he only told three people), which meant PEOPLE I DON’T KNOW hugged me and touched my stomach (weird and inappropriate).  I had to do my utmost not to punch someone or burst into tears – both being things I know to be inappropriate to do.  It is strange enough when it is people you know, but so much worse when it is people you don’t know.

And as a linked aside, I realised as we saw each other across a crowded room, that one of his workmates is one of my old workmates.  She also just happens to be the owner of the very pregnant belly I saw twelve years ago that was what put me off having children.  We were in a meeting when she was about eight months gone.  And her baby was kicking, so she lifted up her shirt to show us, and I honestly saw its foot.  That was the moment I realised that growing a baby is housing a parasite.  And it reminded me of Sigourney Weaver in Aliens.  And I never, ever wanted to be Sigourney Weaver in Aliens. 

So there was also that.  And the food was bad.  (On another, happier aside, Murray’s boss feels EXACTLY the same way as me about babies/parasites/Aliens, which has reassured us that I can feel that way, and still be an awesome parent, and survive this pregnancy thing.)

I am also not one of those really-excited-oh-my-God-this-is-amazing-and-the-only-thing-important-in-my-life kinda people.  I am not clucky.  I am doing this because this is necessary for us to be parents, and I think we’d be good parents.  When people go all gooey, or talk to me differently because I’m pregnant, it makes me want to puke.  I’m pregnant.  I’m housing a parasite until it’s big enough to make it on its own and comes out as an independent little person.  This is not cute.  This is necessary.  I am glad that you are glad I am pregnant but the foetus doesn’t care if you are baby talk at my stomach.  The foetus would care more if you didn’t cause my adrenals to go haywire and speed up its heart rate by weirding me out.  And it might care if you gave me a strawberry.  Or some chocolate.  Or maybe a foot rub.

I am grateful that all my close friends and family are aware that I will feel this way and although they are definitely excited, they are not acting like freaky weirdos.  Thank you awesome people. 

5)      Once everyone knows you are pregnant, they have opinions, advice and ideas.  Sometimes this is helpful, sometimes it isn’t and sometimes it is just overwhelming.  Becoming pregnant when you are not someone who’s into babies, means stepping into a foreign and scary world of learning, which is especially hard when your brain isn’t working. 

There are so many things to think about, and many things you have NEVER thought about.  All these pregnancy classes available: yoga, massage, acupuncture, antenatal and other stuff I’m sure, and all these things cost money which wasn’t budgeted for because I didn't know I needed to.  Is any of it necessary (besides antenatal classes)?  I honestly don’t know.  I am terrified of the labour part and want my body to be as prepped as possible – but who has time, money and brains for these things?  I also know I’m going to go to one of these classes and it will be full of more people I barely know who will share opinions and advice which will fill my brain with even more stuff.  And then my head will explode and the foetus will die.   

And if the people are being open, and not sharing their opinions yet, they’ll ask you about yours. Sometimes it’s about a topic that you didn’t know existed and you’re only answer is ‘ah, we’re still deciding’ because really, what you mean is ‘I’m going to Google that when I get home’.  Then other times you do have an opinion, but you know it’s not going to go down favourably with this person-of-a-different-generation and you just don’t have energy for debate (cos no brain and exhausted) so you do your best to nod and smile and say nothing when really you want to say SO many things.  I knew this would happen, as I’ve seen it happen to other people, but it’s much more real when it's actually happening to you.

And that’s this blog/rant done.  I am truly sorry.  I know some sentences are ridiculously long.  I know this needs more editing.  I have a feeling though that this may be the format my blog posts take over the next 6+ months because bad rant is currently my only volume.  I will try my best to write about non-preggo things, and not rant, but I can see me failing at this.  Please bear with me.  One day I’ll be normal again.  I hope.

On Getting Knocked Up

Check out my Trans VAGINA!  This is how we announced our pregnancy on Facebook (the foetus scans look just like any other foetus scan).  My friend Helen pointed out, it looks kinda like a monster.  Yay!

Firstly I apologise to this blog and its small readership for not posting recently.  I can tell you right now this is directly due to being knocked up and its bearing my ability to work my brain good.  There has been a LOT going on, and much I’d love to have written about had my brain been willing. 

Now that apology is out of the way, I have to say this has been one helluva year.  And as is always the way, the timing for this fantastic occurrence was, interesting. 

As with my last pregnancy my boobs were a fairly good indicator that I was pregnant.  As you will have read in my previous blog, I was ovulating around the time I started having pain and ended up in hospital requiring surgery.  We noticed my boobs had blown up about three days after I got home from hospital.  We confirmed the pregnancy eight days after my last surgery.  So I was pregnant when I had surgery.  Freaky.

So many thoughts travelled through my brain when I found out.  My first thought was ‘Holy crap! That basal thermometer reading stuff actually works!’  The second thought was ‘Yay!  Now I don’t have to stress about trying to get knocked up any more!’ And then I thought ‘Crap!  I can’t drink in Melbourne’ then ‘This could be ectopic, and we won't be able to go to Melbourne.’  And then I worried about the impact of the pregnancy on my body so close to having had surgery.  And having to tell people and them being gooey and me being grossed out by it but it not being polite to make gagging noises when people think they're being nice.  And a bunch of other stuff.

Because of my previous history, the doctor organised for me to have an early scan to catch any possible ectopic early.  Unfortunately, the best time to see things on the scan was going to be when we were already in Melbourne, so we had to organise to have this just before we left. 

The other thing I haven’t been able to post about (cos brain) is that Mum had major surgery the day before we left for Melbourne (this year has been one of just horrible timing).  It was a long awaited surgery to improve a long standing, debilitating problem, but the risks were high, and recovery difficult, so it was scary.  Our scan was booked in the day before Mum’s surgery.  If things went badly at our scan, not only would it mean facing another ectopic, and more surgery, but it would mean not being able to support my mum, or have her support me.  Both Mum and I were very worried about this.  It would also mean no Melbourne trip, which we were really looking forward to after a crazy year.

The day of the scan came.  Because all of my recent scans have been in emergency, I forgot about the horribleness that is having a full bladder and someone press on your stomach.  Here is some advice: if you ever need a full bladder scan, you honestly don’t need to drink the whole litre of water.  I only drank 700mls for this scan, and my bladder was too full (which is bad because you have to let some out).  I drank two glasses for the most recent scan, and that was sweet.  Sitting waiting for a scan is uncomfortable with a full bladder, but kind of good as it's hard to stress about the scan when all you can think about is not pissing yourself.

There were a number of odd things about the scan (the technician seated Murray in an odd place so he could hardly see what was happening) but I didn’t notice at the time.  As soon as I could see my uterus on the screen, I knew things were ok.  Because there was an obvious something in it.  In fact, because of how the yolk sac sits by the embryo, Murray thought there were two somethings in it, so I had to tell him several times it was not twins.  This scan showed I was less pregnant than we thought by 5 days, which was not technically possible (severe pain requiring eventual hospitalisation = no nookie) and made me question the skills of the technician.  Regardless, the pregnancy was not ectopic, which was the most important thing.

The cool thing we learnt in that first scan was that the egg had come from my left side which has no fallopian tube (they can see the burst follicle on the ovary in the scan).  This means that my single fallopian tube is doing double duty, and my chances of getting pregnant are the same each month.  This is awesome.  This means that unless this remaining tube stuffs up, we probably won’t need IVF.  There is nothing at all wrong with IVF, but it is nice to know we won’t need it all the same.

So yay we’re knocked up!  And although I’m not enjoying this whole pregnancy thing, I am glad that we get the chance to make a person.  And mum is recovering from her surgery, and we did get to Melbourne.  I didn't get to do Poverty Week like I planned as I had surgery a week and a half before it started, and I found out I was pregnant three days beforehand, and everything is a mess.  Still feeling guilty.  I will try and blog about these things more soon.  If my brain will let me.

On This Year’s Surgery Number Two

So I’ve had my second surgery for the year.  This one came from totally out of the blue.  Thankfully, it is in no way related to the last, which means it doesn’t affect our chances of getting knocked up.

We are currently trying to get pregnant.  The longer I'm off the pill for the more irregular my cycle gets, so I'm using basal thermometer reading (plus monitoring other stuff) to work out when I'm ovulating.  This is the first month I’ve been doing this, so I’ve been hyper conscious of my body.  A few weeks ago I noticed some pain on my right hand side.  It was around the time that I was due to ovulate – so I thought it was that.  I had two nights of really bad gastro cramping and almost no sleep, so figured my IBS was playing up.  After getting home Saturday night after Sarah’s book launch, I was horrendously ill.  The next morning I noticed that the right side of my stomach was swollen.  After putting all of this together, I realised I had most of the symptoms of non-acute appendicitis, and went to the doctor.

My GP suspected the same, but the pain wasn’t acute enough to warrant hospital.  He gave me antibiotics, which often helps settle a rumbling appendix, and advised me to go to hospital if it got any worse.  I said ‘See, I told you’ to Murray - very proud with my accurate self diagnosis.

I didn’t go to work on Monday as I still had pain, and by Wednesday it hadn’t gotten any worse, but it also hadn’t gotten any better so I decided to go to hospital to be safe.  Antibiotics usually kick in within 48 hours so something was not right.

After a while in emergency awaiting test results, I saw a doctor.  Everything was fine.  Apart from my pain and gastro symptoms, my temperature was normal, blood tests normal - everything normal.  I thought they were going to send me home.  I told the doctor that I was very nervous.  The idea of a rumbling appendix was just like an ectopic pregnancy, like having a bomb in your body that could go off at any time.  She took me seriously, and after an ultrasound also appeared normal, said I should stay overnight for observation in the surgical ward.  I was extremely grateful.

After seeing the surgical registrar, the decision was made to pop a camera in there, and check everything was ok.  They didn’t think I had appendicitis, but agreed that something was not as it should be.  Again, I was so grateful.  I am very used to people thinking I'm crazy.  Even if they found nothing, my mind would be at ease, which would mean I might be able to get some sleep.  Every time my stomach cramped it pressed on whatever was hurting in my right hand side, and made me scared it would explode.  The idea of my insides exploding is scary.  I don't sleep when I'm scared.

The night in hospital wasn’t great.  I didn’t sleep, and in the morning, there was a drama.  

I'm good with needles, but needles aren’t good with me.  When I arrived at the hospital it took three attempts to get a line in.  The successful lure hadn’t been used for about 20 hours when the nurse tried to attach the drip pre-surgery.  She put the fluid through to clean the line and it felt wrong.  I've had this done many times, so know what it usually feels like.  I told her, and she ignored me.  Then she started the drip.  It got progressively more painful.  Then my arm blew up like a balloon.  I firmly told her she had to stop the drip, and she did.

I was amazed she didn’t take the line out.  My arm was huge.  The lure had popped out of the vein so everything had gone straight into my arm.  It felt very odd.  After an hour of looking at my blown up arm with the lure still in it I buzzed for the nurse.

‘Please can you take this out?’

‘Why, is it hurting?  I’ll get you another pillow.’ 

It seemed ridiculous she was questioning this quite logical request.  I completely lost the plot.  

‘No (sob) it (sob) doesn’t hurt (sob).  I just (sob) haven’t (sob) had any sleep (sob) and (sob) I got (sob) a really big fright (sob).’ 

It took half an hour to stop sobbing.

The nurse totally freaked.  She had someone take the lure out, and checked on me every five minutes until her shift finished.  Then she checked on me as she was leaving.  It was one of those things that is quite hilarious in retrospect, but is SOOOO traumatic at the time.

Another lure was put into a friendlier vein, and I was in surgery by 10.30am.  It always amazes me how many people there are in surgery.  There were at least seven in this one, and it was a simple, laproscopic procedure.  They told me they would take my appendix out regardless which was a huge relief – I never have to worry about it exploding, ever.  The anaesthetist held the oxygen mask on my face very hard, pushing his thumb up under my jaw.  It really hurt, but I just said to myself ‘Don't worry, you’ll be unconscious soon.’  And I was.*

I had the best wake up from surgery ever (last time I asked the nurses the same question over and over, and demanded drugs until I went blue cos my oxygen sats dropped).  I woke up 12 minutes after going into recovery and felt pretty great.  The procedure had taken 45 minutes – about 20 minutes longer than anticipated.  They had found a burst ovarian cyst which had put gunk through all my insides.  This is what was causing the pain and gastric issues.  They cleaned it all out and removed my (healthy) appendix.

Recovery has been physically more taxing than the last.  I think they had to move things around a bit as I have more bruising and swelling than with my last surgery.  I overdid things on Sunday (I washed dishes, tidied and hung up washing) which caused my surgical sites to bleed – I have been much better at resting since then.  A week on from surgery and I’m feeling pretty good.  Still a little sore and still tired but I think my stomach muscles have knitted back together as sitting up doesn’t hurt any more.

The sucky thing about this unexpected surgery is how it impacts on work.  The timing could not be poorer.  Well, it could.  We’re also heading to Melbourne for a holiday shortly, so I’m glad this didn’t happen then.  It means we won't have much to spend in Melbourne because excess money is covering my mortgage payments while I’m off work.  But in all honesty our flights and fancy accommodation is paid, we’re going to Armageddon for free thanks to our amazing friend Richard - so we’ll have a great time anyway.  And I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again; I am employed by wonderful people.  I am so grateful that after two unexpected surgeries and almost 6 weeks off work this year, I still have a job.

The other sucky thing is it’s mucked up my first month of basal thermometer reading.  And I have to be less smug about my (non)skills at self-diagnosis.

*Following surgery I had a cut inside my lip and a bruise under my jaw.  I should have said something, but it’s physically difficult to talk when you’re JUST about to go under for surgery, and someone is tightly holding a mask over your face.

On the eating below the poverty line challenge

So I saw this really fabulous idea via an article on Stuff.co.nz yesterday.  I have read about this before, but this time I thought actually, this isn't a bad idea.  So I decided it might be a nice thing to do.  I've lived in poverty before, but that was a long time ago, so it will be good for me to remember what it's like again.

After checking out the actual fundraising page I realised that this was just to fundraise for charities that do work overseas.  Although I absolutely understand that these charities need financial support, it made me quite sad that not a single one was a NZ based charity ie: none of those funds go to help other Kiwis.  Given that we have over 270,000 children living below the poverty line here, this made me quite sad, as everywhere I seem to see New Zealanders distancing themselves from this statistic.

It is sad because these children are our next generation.  They are the people who will financially support our parents, and ourselves when we are older.  They are the future of our country, and over 1/4 of them currently live in poverty.

Living in extreme poverty is defined by the world bank as living on less than $1.25US per day ($2.25NZ).  Children living below the poverty line in NZ is defined as: 'The proportion of children with equivalised disposable household income under 50 - 60% of the current median.'  And yet another definition I've read for poverty (which I think is quite apt) is: 'Not having enough money to go to the doctor, not being able to fill up the car or being able to pay for groceries or appropriate clothing.'

The Live Below the Line concept is to live on $2.25 per person, per day, for food and beverages.  This is not a reflection of what real poverty is like.  As my friend Gen pointed out, us middle class folk doing the challenge still get to live in our warm, dry houses, with decent clothing and bedding, shoes and jackets.  We can still go to the doctors if we need to.  Nevertheless, it is a small way of understanding what things might be like if we were in a different situation.  
 
Therefore, I am going to do my own Live Below the Line, and fundraise money for Kids Can, a New Zealand based charity that helps low decile schools by providing basics like food, raincoats and shoes for children in need.  This is a charity I have supported for some time, so have seen through their newsletters the work they are doing in our communities.


Murray is going to do it with me (as it's easier to buy and cook together than otherwise).  I will also (not sure if I can convince him of this stuff) forgo home internet, Playstation, use of our home phone and will treat my cel phones as if it has no credit on it (ie: you can call or text me, but I cannot text you back).  Aside from getting to and from work, I will not use the car, or public transport.  From memory, one of the hardest things about living in poverty is feeling trapped - having little options, and little ability to get support.

We will do this at the same time as all the other folk (from the 24th - 28th of September), so we have time to (hopefully) get some sponsors and raise some money for Kids Can.  I am lucky I have this time to map out how to get the most bang for our buck with food.  Any advice is welcome, although remember that most people in poverty would not easily be able to shop around.  I have our meals pre-planned (we will have leftovers from dinner for lunch), and although they will be simple, they should (hopefully) be enough to keep us going.

If you'd like to support us, please email me and I'll pass on the details.  I'm hoping to raise enough to help at least five schools out with food for a year - I only need to raise $500 to make that happen.
 

Grocery Budget Must Haves  
1kg white rice                  $1.85
12 eggs                          $3.00
2 x tins  tomatoes          $1.80
6 x potatoes                  $1.50
3 x onions                  $0.60
1 small bulb garlic             $0.60
4 x carrots                  $0.70
Bag of Pak choi          $0.79
1/2 cup pinto beans          $0.80
400g tapioca                  $1.50
1/2 cup chickpeas          $1.00
5 x button mushrooms      $1.08
Tea bags (30)                  $1.30
1 litre milk                          $1.90
Coconut cream (sml)        $1.06
6 x apples                  $0.90
seasoning from home       $1.00
Total                        $21.38
 
Extras (if we can afford them)  
Small piece of ginger        $0.30
1/2 cup banana chips       $0.40
1/2 cup popping corn        $0.60
2 Tbsp linseed                  $0.15
1/3 cup raisins                  $0.50
Extras total                  $1.95

Total Budget                 $23.33 
($0.83 over budget)    

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* Blogger's formatting is being a bitch - sorry about the mess people.

A letter to the four legged occupants at 49a Kiwi Road

49a Kiwi Road

Pt Chevalier
Auckland

05/08/2012

Dear Huckle, Roux and Wellesley

I am sure you have noticed many changes to your environment over the past few weeks.  And I know change can be unsettling when you don’t understand why it is happening.  I am very sad to have to move you from your current environment, but Murray and I feel it is an important step forward in the lives of all of us.  I know that you are all very happy with things how they are, but I am sure you can adapt and grow to love your new home given time.

Roux, you have recently taken on the challenge of acquiring a new cat housemate for the first time and have handled this extremely well.  I am very proud of the respectful way you treat Huckle.  I was happily surprised to see you standing up to neighbourhood bullies (Sebastian) on his behalf.   You have grown much as a cat since his arrival and I’m sure, in time you two will become great friends, hopefully one day achieving cat-ball status.

Huckle, you left your family of eight after ten years to come and live with us and it was very scary for you.  In fact initially you moved in under the neighbour’s house, rather than live with us, but I don’t hold it against you.  Although it took some time, you have now become an important and fun part of our little family.  I am so glad to see you as a much more confident and slightly less play-bitey cat today.  And I know that you are with me on my plan for cat-balldom after seeing you lick Roux on the neck the other day.

Wellesley, I don’t think you have noticed much.  You only notice when I change your hay and clean up your poo and you dislike it immensely.  I am sure being oblivious will aid you in adjusting to this big move.  You did notice the loss of your son earlier this week, and we are very sorry.  Although I know this will present new challenges, I promise you will have a new friend to keep you company soon.  It’s not fair that you should be alone out there.  I am sorry you cannot live inside the house with the rest of us, but you are so hell bent on destroying every piece of electronics we own that Murray’s just not keen.

I know this big change will be very scary at first, especially the car journey in the cage, but it will get better.  You will have new grass to pee on, new trees to climb and new roofs to lounge on.  Roux and Huckle, you will also be getting your very own door which you can use whenever you like.  You will miss Jade and Kenan, but I’m sure you’ll have a new playmate or two at some point in the future. 

I wish we could explain this to you in a way you can understand, but we can’t.  We can just give you tasty food, lots of cuddles, and inoculations.

Lots of love,

from Hannah x

Why I chose to have a Civil Union

I wrote this just before our Civil Union last year to make things easier for people to understand why we made this choice.  Given Mr Key's recent support of Obama's statement around gay marriage, I thought it was about time I shared it via my blog:

First of all, it’s a choice.  Nowadays in New Zealand when you look at the Department of Internal Affairs website it says: Births, Deaths, Marriages, Civil Unions.  It is an option.  Now if you want a legally binding contract with the one you love you can choose a Marriage or a Civil Union.  It’s like when you’re on a plane and you can have beef or chicken.  You choose the one you like.  If you choose the chicken it’s not usually because you’re anti beef.  It’s usually because you prefer chicken.  My choice is not an ‘anti marriage’ choice.  It is just a choice for my preferred option.

Why did I choose Civil Union over marriage?  The main reason is to do with being raised to treat everyone as equals regardless of gender, ideology, ethnicity or sexuality.  In choosing Civil Union I am respecting the values instilled in me by my parents, and my grandparents.  This is no different than those who choose to get married in a specific faith system.  I choose Civil Union as it is most reflective of how I was raised to treat others.

Civil Union is a non-discriminatory union which all New Zealanders can have.  I have always struggled to understand why people treat others differently based on their sexuality, or preferred gender identity.  Why do people care?  Why is it anyone’s business at all?  When Murray and I were talking about it yesterday he quoted Trainspotting : ‘1,000 years from now there will be no guys and no girls, just people’. (the actual quote says ’wankers’, but you get the gist).  In this, Murray feels as strongly as I do.  We don’t want to be treated any different than our gay/bi/transgender friends just because our relationship is ‘straight’.  In choosing to have a Civil Union we are choosing a union which every New Zealander can have.  We are setting the tone for the value system we will instil in our potential children.  I am proud to make that choice.

When the Civil Union policy was put in place by Labour I was incredibly proud to be a New Zealander.  My feelings on this are probably similar to how many New Zealanders felt about David Lange’s No Nukes stance and speeches in 1985.  We are not the first to have a policy like Civil Union, but it doesn’t make it any less special or important to us as a country.  It is a policy of equality whilst respecting tradition.  It was created in addition to Marriage whilst preserving Marriage in its original state.  Helen Clark said if she’d had the option, she would have chosen to have a Civil Union.  I am happy to walk in Helen’s footprints.

I am not anti marriage.  I just don’t feel a Marriage can do for me what a Civil Union can.  I have no issue with my friends and families choice to get married because it is their choice.  There is no reason for us to have a Marriage to satisfy family traditions as neither of our families subscribe to any particular religion.  If people take offense to our not choosing marriage, they should really examine their own value systems.

It is a choice which reflects our views on our relationship; balance, equality and respect for our differences.  It is a choice that I will proudly live with for the rest of my life.  I am excited about the fact that I have a choice, and that I am able to start creating our own traditions.

Hauhanga a rongo, Arohanui mai x

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Over time, we've learnt that while Civil Unions are more inclusive than Marriages, those in them have less rights than those in Marriages.  Because we chose a Civil Union over Marriage, we are not legally able to adopt as a couple in NZ.  While changes to these antiquated adoption laws are being looked at by MP's from many political parties, our PM has said that this is not a priority for this government.

This issue is increasingly pertinent to us following my second ectopic earlier this year, and the removal of one of my fallopian tubes.  While we have been given the go ahead to try to fall pregnant again, the chances of another ectopic are high.  While we are eligible for one free series of IVF treatment, the waiting list for this treatment is long, and we cannot afford the $10,000 - $15,000 it will cost to go private.  If we have further complications, adoption would be our preferred option, but because of our choice of Civil Union instead of Marriage, this option is not available to us.

This is systemic discrimination.  Even if the number of children up for adoption in NZ is low, in stating that this 'is not a priority' the government is saying that equal treatment is not a priority.  Many people I've spoken to have thought I was joking when I told them this was current law - it is no joke.  We've had other people say we could swap to a Marriage purely for the sake of adopting.  If we change our marital status purely to work within a framework built around inequality, than we are saying this framework is ok.

It is not ok.  In standing by our choice, we provide a voice against systemic inequality.  Why should we, or gay, or de-facto couples have to find loopholes in law in order to receive the same rights as married couples?  Instead, we need to focus on creating an environment that doesn't tolerate this type of discrimination.  Why should we be punished for making a choice based on our beliefs of love, acceptance and equality?

I am extremely proud of our choice.  I hope that one day we can have children, and that those children will grow up in a world different than it is now.  And I am certain that if more people stand by what is right, rather than what is easy, this new world will be possible.