Link to Iowa County Almanac

http://iowacountyalmanac.blogspot.com/

 

Fried Eggs, the GOP, and IVF

 

Wendy Gilbert Gronbeck

 

Men of the GOP, I know your feelings are hurt. It must be terribly hard to accept that sometimes a syringe works better than your manly parts. How embarrassing to be outperformed by a turkey baster. Is this why Linsey Graham looks so sour and Mitch McConnell so befuddled? If your wife is stepping out on you with a turkey baster, I certainly understand why you have taken up arms (and your other manly parts) to wage war on Petrie Dishes.

 

Long ago you made it clear whose problem infertility is. It’s those women–losing their pregnancies, failing to conceive, walking around with incompetent cervices.

 

But for heaven’s sake, guys–you can do better! You are selling yourselves short. You haven’t begun to take this far enough. Did you know that many fertilized eggs (aka young people) are flushed out naturally during menstruation? Come on, Gyn Masters, I’m sure you know that. All us women washing away the well-crafted products of your manly parts, month after month, year after year? The Vatican says keeping embryos alive is “opposed to human dignity,” and woe unto you if you destroy one. That leaves women with a tough task, expelling unattached embryos every month, worrying about their dignity, performing itty bitty CPR. The Alabama Supreme Court ruled that embryos are children and if you destroy one, you can be charged with wrongful death. So, it is incumbent on you GOP incumbents to put all menstruating women in the pokey.

 

You can put an end to this. How? For starters, you should jail all menstruating women, though some of them might call that respite. And, you could set up inspection stations, sift through things, rescue those little expelled kiddies.

 

One more thing: while you’re all up there in our business, would you mind providing some of those more mature embryos with school lunches, affordable healthcare, and a decent education? And remember to wear your gloves, boys.

 

 

 

 Link to my story in the Bangalore Press:

https://bangalorereview.com/2024/05/still/

Neuterville

 

Non-Fiction--really

 

I grew up in Neuterville. My dad was neuter. My mom was neuter-er. We were as genderless as my doll, Dee Dee Diaper, who had a pinprick hole between her little bowed legs. When I squeezed water into her mouth from the plastic baby bottle, it ran right through onto the ground, but none of us ever peed. Certainly no one pooped or farted. Also, no one in the family wore underwear, none that I ever saw, even in the laundry, because you learned to tuck it down underneath out of sight. My mother gave birth four times but was never pregnant. How could she be, here in Neuterville?

 

For two decades, I completely avoided being naked. I got dressed underneath my nightie, then whipped it off. At bedtime, I put my nightie on over my clothes, then took my clothes out from under. I never saw my dad in an undershirt nor my mother in a slip, because we were never naked. We were neuter. We lived in Neuterville.

 

Not coincidentally, our pets also lived in Neuterville. When Fang mounted the neighbor’s Cocker Spaniel, my mother told me they were playing hopscotch. They were really good at it. When our neighbor girl with the unfortunate name of Rosy Dix, sprouted breasts and appeared at the lake wearing a two-piece bathing suit-but only the bottom piece -  I was banished from the beach.

 

Even in Neuterville, a girl eventually turns 13, and here’s what happens. You are minding your own business in your bedroom, doing homework. Your social studies book is open to the chapter “How the Pilgrims and The Indians Became Good Friends.” You have your PJs on. Your grandfather’s homemade radio, fashioned from a kit, sits on your desk. You wear the same Bakelite headset your grandpa did in 1920 and listen to Jack Benny on Sunday nights. Suddenly, your bedroom door opens. You catch the briefest flash of your mother’s face, and she sails an LP record right over your head and onto the bed and slams the door. Even Donna, the dullard next door, would be curious about this event, so I take off the headset, walk to the bed and pick up the record. It’s in a plain, dark blue jacket with a sticker that says Chelsea Michigan Public Library. Printed in large white letters were these words: “What Every Young Lady Needs to Know.” Even the Princess of Neuterville knew what that meant.

 

But, here was my problem: Let me explain the layout of our house. My bedroom opened to the living room. In the corner of the living room was a grapefruit tree my dad had grown from a seed. It got really tall which made him very proud, and he couldn’t bear to prune it back, so he cut a round hole in the ceiling tile and let it continue growing on up into his bedroom. That wasn’t my problem. In the other corner was the Barkalounger where you’d have to sit carefully to avoid flipping over backwards. That wasn’t my problem either. My problem was in between the tree and the recliner. It was a large walnut box on long legs with brass feet and a cloth front--our HiFi record player. Now you see my problem, me living in Neuterville and all. Imagine playing “Everything a Young Lady Needs to Know” in the living room, right in front of my parents who thought all a young lady needed to know was she better not ever get nekked, pee, or go swimming with Rosy Dix.

 

Post Script: Girl from Neuterville marries man from Let It All Hang Out. They live happily and awkwardly ever after.

No Exceptions? Really?

 

The nurses on our oncology unit cared for cancer patients but also cared for mothers who were losing a pregnancy or who faced terminating a pregnancy gone wrong. Why the oncology unit? Because the last thing a mother losing her baby needs is to be on a delivery unit where she will hear crying babies and joyful laughter. We were accustomed to dealing with loss and grief, so they were sent to us.

Sometimes these mothers were suffering a miscarriage; sometimes the baby was malformed and would die before or after birth; sometimes it already had died. In some cases, this was a danger to the mother. Although some babies might live a few minutes if labor was allowed to continue, they might suffer pain and air hunger during that time.  

A baby born dead or who died just after birth was always treated with respect. Parents were given a little knitted hat that the baby had worn. Families were given a certificate to acknowledge the birth, including footprints that might be a quarter inch long. When possible, a photo was taken. They were encouraged to hold the baby for as long as they wanted. Sometimes we wrapped the babe in a blanket exposing just a heel or glimpse of skin because the rest would have been too disturbing to view. Sometimes, it needed to be fully covered if the anomalies were extreme. I doubt most people shouting about such issues in the political arena could imagine such human anomalies. Most of these pregnancies were greatly anticipated, some were the result of procedures to overcome infertility. Sometimes families opted out of these support measures.

We saw brave husbands sit by their grieving wives, knowing they would go home empty-handed. I also remember those distraught fathers who sat in the waiting room with the couple’s other children. He might be holding a toddler on his knee and watching his other children. He might be struggling with how to explain that no baby will be coming home with them.

In the worst-case scenario, this father and mother faced a gut-wrenching decision about letting the pregnancy or labor continue or ending it. Sometimes a mother’s future fertility was threatened if she continued to struggle against a pregnancy gone wrong. Sometimes the mother’s very life was threatened. Imagine someone saying to that father, sitting with his other children, that the mother must continue such a pregnancy even if it kills her or causes her physical and/or mental damage. I never heard a physician pose such a choice. I certainly never heard anything remotely akin to “No exceptions for you!”

Imagine some politician bursting into the room and saying, “I will make the decisions for your family.” Imagine a politician saying, “I will decide to let this mother to these other children die to save a baby that will live for just a few minutes.”

 No exceptions? The ignorance! The arrogance! The utter mean-spiritedness! “No exceptions” is not born of love or concern or any reasonable resemblance to Christianity. At best, it’s the result of misinformation and at worst, the result of a corrosive desire for power and control. It’s also a sleazy means of pandering to a political base for personal gain. “No exceptions” is anything but pro-life.

Maybe this issue doesn’t seem pertinent to you right now. Just wait until people who use such strong-arm tactics set their sites on something you do care about. It’s only a matter of time.

If you want “no exceptions,” how about equal public education, equal health care and equal school safety for all children–with absolutely no exceptions. That, my friends, is pro-life.

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are for.*

Recently I attended a community forum on physical, verbal, and emotional abuse of vulnerable people, including spouses, partners, parents, and children. The house was full with about 50 women and 3-4 men. As we listened to personal stories told by brave survivors and sage advice from experienced counselors, my eyes swept the audience. All I could think of was where the hell are the concerned men? Where are the men who work with and bowl with and joke with these abusers?  

Of course, all abusers are not men. There is woman on man abuse, man on man abuse, and woman on woman abuse. I’d venture to say the vast majority of cases involve men abusing women. 

We heard a lot about what women who witness abuse of a friend or relative should and should not do, and it was very helpful. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone is out there educating men, especially young men and boys, about what to do when their buddy or colleague is the abuser. (It was gratifying to hear that some schools have classes on relationships that cover abuse. I am guessing they talk about how to better handle anger. I wonder if they cover what to do when your high school friend is abusing his girlfriend, when you are the witness, not the abuser.)

You can find a few articles online directed at men who suspect or know a friend is an abuser. They offer the same advice that is given to a woman whose friend is being abused.

·      In private, get the abused person’s permission to talk with the abuser.  

       You  could make things worse if you barge in uninvited.

·      Explain you are speaking because you are concerned, as a friend.

·      Remember the good parts of this person as you speak

·      Use I statements. I have noticed–. I have seen–. I’m worried when I 

       hear–.

·      Allow for possible misunderstandings

·      Avoid confrontation, threats, assumptions. You are not there to rescue 

       anyone. That decision must come from the person being abused. If it’s an 

       emergency, though, call the authorities.

·      Allow for pauses so the other person can speak

·      Be willing to simply start a conversation. You don’t have to solve it right 

       now. And, be willing to revisit it. Don’t give up, even if it’s just to let the 

      abused person know when they are ready, you are there.

·      Most importantly, understand the risks you face. They can go well beyond losing a friend. Talk to an expert on how to proceed before you act.

Who is going to men’s service clubs, fraternities, fraternal organizations to talk about this? Who goes to places where men work, worship or play to teach them how to identify abuse and how to approach a friend or colleague?

Here are the stats from the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence:

·      An average of 20 people experience intimate partner physical violence every minute

·      1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men experience severe intimate partner physical violence and/or sexual violence

·      1 in 3 women and 1 in 4 men have experienced some form of physical violence by an intimate partner

·      1 in 7 women and 1 in 25 men have been injured by an intimate partner

·      1 in 10 women have been raped by an intimate partner   

Think about this. Next time you’re in a movie theater, imagine cordoning off ¼ of the audience; that’s how many people are being abused. Look at the people around you at McDonald’s or in a posh restaurant; on average, 1 in 4 of them are being abused. 

It’s pretty darn likely that eventually we will find ourselves witnessing an abusive situation, so this was an important community forum. But, we need both men and women to shoulder this burden. Men deserve the same education on what to do and what not to do if they suspect their friend or colleague is the abuser. What if your friend’s wife has bruises, claims to fall downstairs a lot, wears long sleeves and sunglasses at inappropriate times? What if your buddies are joking about and demeaning women, using abusive language, talking about a potentially abusive colleague? Do you go along? Quietly walk away? Or, do you start a conversation?

Men should not be sent out there uneducated on the subject, but they should be educated and sent out there to get involved. This is not a woman's problem. The responsibility is on all shoulders, including those brawny ones.

*This quotation is attributed to more people than live in my town.

  Feel free to take credit if you want to join their ranks.

Installment #2     Calling All Crabby Old Women

 

Under Any Condition? Nope.

How often do you hear a gushing newly-betrothed or newly-married person on TV say, “He/she completes me.”

Oh, please. Pass the anti-emetics. Honey, if you ain’t complete, you should not be offering yourself up to someone else. What part of you needs completing? If your partner isn’t complete, run. Run like hell. You wouldn’t take your car off the assembly line and say, “I’ll just finish that myself, thanks.” You’d be heading for a big wreck for sure. Why accept someone who is incomplete? This doesn’t mean you need to find or be a perfect person, but if a person is not fully baked in truly important areas, step back and reassess.

You can bet the next thing gushed will be, “He/she loves me unconditionally.” Well, good grief, why? If you and your bud don’t care enough about yourselves to have conditions on your relationship, why not? Does this mean you will accept any treatment? Does unconditional love include abuse? Disrespect? Refusal to takes steps to change and improve things? Of course, you won’t ever find someone or be someone without any warts. But, some warts aren’t warts; they are malignant and do not have to be tolerated unconditionally.

Relationships have conditions, rules, boundaries. On a good day, they are mutually agreed upon. If that doesn't work out, you still can be a loving person and step out of the path of weapons that are not born of love. You do not have to pass those very unloving tests of loyalty. Sometimes, taking leave of the relationship may actually preserve the love.

I shudder to think how many people suffer because they have swallowed those trite lines that were dreamed up by an inexperienced, clueless script writer on his or her first job at the Lifetime channel. New wedding vows:

I got warts, you got warts. After careful examination, I find you to be pretty much intact. I will continue to work on improving myself as best I can. Since we both promise to work on things together, let’s have a go at it.

Cue the romantic music.

And that’s why I won’t be applying for a job at the Lifetime channel.