It's OK to be different

The geeky family are sad and disappointed that Californians voted on Tuesday to ban gay marriage again. Yesterday I happened to be reading a sweet bedtime story, a book by Berkeley author Todd Parr called "it's OK to be different". I wish every child and parent in California had this book. No, its not about princes marrying other princes, it isn't controversial in any way, though its message is about accepting yourself and accepting diversity. It just tells kids, with colorful illustrations, that "its OK to wear glasses", "Its OK to have a wheelchair", "It's OK to have a big nose". The final page states "Its OK to be different. You are special and important just for being who you are".

On Tuesday, California voters told a group of people that they were not important, just because of being who they were.

For readers not up to date with the history of gay marriage in California, here is a brief summary of how we got to here. Marriage in the US, like in many countries, is a civil contract in which your chosen partner becomes your legal next of kin, and thus grants certain important rights. The right to visit your partner in hospital and to make medical decisions for each other, to inherit, and to be covered under a partners health insurance policy are assured by marriage. Religious marriage is a separate thing. Wherever you marry in a church, synagogue, or mosque; by lake tahoe, in a casino, or while skydiving, you must first obtain your marriage license from your county clerk's office. In 2000, voters approved an amendment to the state constitution that defined marriage as between one man and one woman. In February 2004 the brave, decidedly heterosexual, and really quite cute Mayor of San Francisco decided that this was discriminatory, and allowed the SF county clerk's office to grant marriage licenses to gay couples. This lasted a few months, and 4000 marriages, until it was ruled to be against the state constitution. In May 2008, a case addressing the rights of a gay couple to marry was brought to the supreme court of California, and the justices decided that to deny these civil marriage rights to a group of people base on sexual orientation was discriminatory. This ruling allowed county clerk's offices across the state to issue marriage licenses to same sex couples. Since May, more than 18,000 gay couples have been legally married in California.

In reaction to this, opponents of same sex marriage pushed a proposition on to the ballot this November (In California legislation as well as candidates for office can be put up to a vote), to amend the state consitution to define marriage as being between a man and a woman, thus reversing the right of same sex couples to marry. This legislation passed, by a narrow margin.

Personally, I just don't understand the opposition to equal marriage rights.

Don't believe in gay marriage? Well don't get one.

Gay marriage 'threatens traditional marriage?'. Of those 18,000 gay married couples (or are they married? Their status is in limbo now), I doubt many of them woke up that May morning in a traditional marriage, and said to their opposite sex husband or wife "You know honey, now that gay marriage is legal, I'm going to leave you and marry my buddy, Joe/best mate Susan".

If the only reason you chose' traditional marriage' over' gay marriage' was that the latter is not legalized, well you've got problems that legislation can't solve!

What opponents of gay marriage don't seem to realise is that gay people get married, they always have, they get married in their churches and by their Rabbis, or in front of their friends and familes. What the court ruling did was to finally allow these marriages, which have always existed, to be recognized by law in the same way that heterosexual partnerships are.

I suspect that much of the opposition comes from two basic misconceptions :

One, that someone can choose to be gay. That it is a lifestyle choice, something kids do to annoy their parents like getting tattoos or riding motorbikes. That if our kids see gay couples just as accepted as straight couples they are going to choose to become gay. This makes no sense. Did you choose your sexual orientation? Or is it just a fundamental part of who you are? And if our kids are gay, (and some of them are), don't we want them to grow up in a world where they see happy gay couples in accepted relationships? Where they may still feel different, but at least not alone?

Two, that being gay is a moral failing. This one is harder to address, some religions prohibit homosexual behavior, and many Americans have strong religious beliefs. But religions evolve as understanding of human nature evolves. It used to be a sin in Christianity to lend money at interest, and just fine to enslave people. Many people reconcile their homosexuality with their religion, many religious leaders are themselves gay. And besides, religion and state are separated in this country.

Proposition 8 wasn't about religion, or the nature of homosexuality. Though the advertisments in favour of it must have convinced people that it was. It was simply about keeping a civil right for one group of people, and taking it away from another.

The silver lining in this cloud is that at least this time the legislation passed by a much narrower margin than in 2000. Lets hope it doesn't take another eight years for Californians to recognize that its OK to have a different kind of marriage, and that we are all special and important, and entitled to equal rights under the law.

a brighter future

I moved to this country in 1996, quite ignorant of the US political system. I watched, perplexed, through "Monicagate", frustrated as this great democracy decided the 2000 election though recounts and partisan court decisions, afraid as the twin towers fell and bombs started to fall across the middle east, and finally, angry and appalled when Americans voted for Bush/Cheney again in 2004.

For the past eight years, the America I see and walk in every day has not been represented by its leaders. Today I see a leader who is the face of the future generation of Americans. When I think about the Americans of the future I can't think of a better representation than our daycare center. It has always reminded me of the Christmas cards we used to buy to support Oxfam, with a picture of smiling children of all nations holding hands in a circle. Our children are black, white, Asian, Hispanic, Native American, and every mixture of race. Their parents are straight and gay, single and married, blue collar and white collar, new immigrants and generational Americans. Our children don't see race, they just see their friends.

I believe that the election of Barak Obama just changed the world for our children. They will grow up seeing that a black person from ordinary beginnings can grow up to be president. They will grow up believing that they can do anything, because now we parents can believe that too, and this will pervade our collective conciousness as a nation and a world.

Geekydaddy and I often talk about returning to the UK, mainly for personal reasons; to be closer to our families, to raise our children in a system more familiar to us. But I realize today that the part of me that wants to return to Britain was also drawn by the thought of raising and educating my children in a more tolerant, kinder, fairer society. Today I believe that society could be this country. Today I want my children to grow up here, and for their earliest memories to be of growing up with President Barak Obama.

Where was I?

My friend followthatdog asked 'where where you?'

I was just thinking about it.
I had sent my parents, who were visiting, off to SFO to catch a flight to Las Vegas when geekdaddy called me from the road to turn on the TV. I turned it on in time to watch the second plane hit.

My folks never got on their plane, but were bussed back into central San Francisco. They were unnerved at being dropped downtown surrounded by the tall buildings, but impressed with the calm way the airport staff handled the unprecendented event, and by the kindness of the people around them.

I decided to go to work, I was a postdoctoral researcher at UCSF at the time. I sat on the shuttle bus, unsure of my decision to leave the house. I was aware of every sound, sitting there with my heart in my mouth, expecting any moment to hear that the transamerica building or one of the bridges had been attacked

Like the world trade center, our lab was a true multiculteral melting pot. Being there with so many citizens of other nations joined in shock and horror at this terrible attack on our adopted country felt right.

Though the events of September 11th 2001 made me feel more American in my identity, what stuck me the most was how many nations lost citizens in that strike on an American building.

It was a strike not just against Americans, but again the fabulous diversity, multiculturalism, idealism and openness that America represents. I am saddened that 7 years on, the reputation of this country has been tarnished by the repercussions of that day. Maybe the way to fight back against terrorism is not to close borders but to open them, because by keeping our borders open we can continue to open minds.

possibly the most pointless exercise in the world

We all know that the US has a huge budget deficit, and thus is invested in preventing people from cheating on their taxes. Fair enough, but I think that when there are corporate loopholes big enough to drive an oil tanker full of money through, there is a point where documentation and auditing of us puny individual taxpayers can be taken too far . For example:

We donate unwanted clothing to charity, and this can be deducted from our taxes, just like charitable donations of money can be. It used to be that we would simply keep a tally of items donated, then refer to our accountants list of the values that could be deducted. Now, our accountant has decided that we need to document each item, which means take a photograph of it! I don't know about you, but actually going through my closet, sorting out unwanted clothes, and writing down what I have put in my big plastic bag is a gargantuan effort. The thought of taking a picture of everything too made the task insurmountable.

My last few rounds of closet purging, most recently inspired by too much watching of 'what not to wear' while on maternity leave, I just threw into bags, so downstairs in our basement I had several large bags of undocumented clothing. And since geekybaby turned out to be a little boy, I had bags and bags of tiny girly outfits (geekybaby wears his sister's old pink pyjamas, but when he goes out of the house I prefer him to be attired in a more masculine fashion, even though this is San Francisco, where boys in flowery pink are an integral part of the landscape).

But the day of reckoning arrived, we are upgrading our 'half finished because we ran out of cash' basement guest suite into a more luxurious dwelling, with heating and a bathroom. And we are on a tight timeline because I have promised my parents that their guest bathroom will be ready for their much anticipated visit in November! Since the room that will be the bathroom has been used for the past few years as storage, it was time to finally get everything donated. So I spent my Saturday going through the bags and photographing the clothing. It felt like the stupidest task in the world. I can only imagine that we will one day be audited, and some poor soul will have to leaf through piles of photographs of tiny shoes, pants and onesies. I can't wait for the phone call that tells us "Oh, Mr. Geeky, I see you claimed for 45 onesies, but I only count 42 in these pictures, off to tax evasion prison with you"!

Some of my old clothing had been in bags for so long that I had almost forgotten I ever owned it, so I was tempted to pull things back out again! I resisted, these clothes had been rejected for good reason, but much as it is a good idea to rotate the kids toys so they don't get bored, maybe I should hide and rotate my clothing, to revitalize old outfits and prevent shopping binges!

It was a bittersweet day, giving away the baby clothes. I fingered the newborn clothes, the tininess of those babies compared to the sturdy toddler and 7 month old they have become is now held only in memory. I hoarded several of the most precious outfits from both kids, the ones they came home from hospital in, the first gifts from grandparents, the dress geekygirl wore to my brother's wedding and quite a few others I was too sentimental about to give away. I can't believe that my babies have grown fast. I feel my baby snuggling days slipping away into a toddler herding and preschooler guiding future.

birth is biology

After taking the birth survey, I started to ruminate on my experiences giving birth to Geekygirl and Geekybaby. I was incredibly fortunate in that both babies arrived into the world after exhilarating, empowering labours and deliveries, with little medical intervention.

It appears a little incongrous to some of my friends that I feel so strongly about eschewing intervention in childbirth. After all, I have a career devoted to developing pharmaceuticals, a belief in modern medicine, and many friends who are medical professionals. I just don't think childbirth is a pathological condition. It is part of our normal biology, something our bodies know how to do, much like digesting our food (OK, maybe a bit more dramatic and life changing than than eating a bag of chips, but it is not akin to having open heart surgery either.) And since we still don't fully understand the nuances of hormonal and neurological signaling that occur when we do something as simple as eat a sandwich (I work in this area, its amazing what your body and your brain do when you eat!), I would hesitate to say that we understand the process by which we give birth to a child well enough to interfere with it with synthetic hormones and blockers of neurotransmission unless absolutely necessary.

I believe strongly that everyone should be able to make an informed choice about how they give birth. I just don't think our obstetricians here give us the right information to make those choices. For example, apparently 80% of women here are given pitocin (synthetic oxytocin) at some time during their labor. It just can't be the case that 80% of American women don't make enough oxytocin. I have noticed that attitudes toward childbirth are very different here in the US, where the majority of women (and their doctors) assume that they will give birth in hospital and have an epidural, compared to in the UK, where most people aim to try for as few interventions as possible.

When I became pregnant with Geekygirl in San Francisco, I sought the care of a hospital midwife rather than the more typical obstetrician, since midwife care is more usual in the UK where I'm from. I learned from friends who had given birth about the value of having the support of a doula during labor, so I hired the amazing Germaine Reidy, who now works in Ireland. If anyone reading this is planning on having a baby in Ireland, check her out! The picture on her site here is of me taking her infant massage class with Geekybaby.

I went into labour gradually with Geekygirl. People always ask 'how long was your labour?', but I am not sure how to define when it actually started. I had contractions while climbing the stairs from the dog beach at fort funston on Saturday, decided to redo all the planting beds in the back yard on Sunday, and went into what was clearly labour that night, which watching a Wallace and Grommit film. I laboured at home with Germaine and Geekydaddy for most of Monday, ending up in a very peaceful inner place, rythmically rocking on my glider chair for a couple of hours, and ultimately made the dash for the hospital while I was going through the transition phase of labor (I realized after the fact). The back seat of our Subaru was not the most comfortable place to be at this time and I think Geekydaddy thought, as we hit every red light in rush hour traffic, that I was going to give birth in the car. When I got to the hospital I was thrilled to find I was 9cm dilated, though quite dehydrated. IV fluids and a few whiffs of 'gas and air' (Nitrous oxide, this being one of the very few US hospital that offers this wonderful elixir) got me through to 10cm, and to the birthing stool, where I pushed for about forty minutes, being transferred to the bed to deliver Geekygirl, 6 lb 12 oz, so tiny and so perfect.

Until that moment when I saw her I don't think I had truly believed, despite the 9 months of pregnancy, that I was really going to become a mum, that I was actually having a baby. The euphoria of that reality, of her shear amazingness, stayed with me for days, and I can still summon back traces of the feeling when I reminisce.

Though I still think Germaine gave us good advice when she suggested I get to the hospital well into labour in order to avoid interventions, with Geekybaby I wanted to avoid the frantic 'We're about to have a baby in the car' experience. Though there was a long, long ten day wait for it to start, after being in labour for a couple of hours my water broke and recognizing the feeling from the last time, I knew the baby was clearly on its way, so we headed to the hospital. This time the car ride was much more relaxed, and after I checked in to the birthing unit at UCSF  I was able to focus on the panoramic views from the 15th floor as I breathed through contractions. Germaine being in Ireland, we had had another doula,  the fabulous Jessica Berman. Jessica's acupressure technique (on my hand, between thumb and forefinger) allowed me to foregoe even the gas and air this time. I had it brought into the room, and was comforted by its presence, but with Jessica's reassurance that it would just be a few more contractions until pushing time, I never actually picked up the mask. She also kept me hydrated with energy beverages so I didn't need any IV fluids. It felt great not to be hooked up to anything.

Our wonderful nurse brought out the birthing stool, and gave the medical residents attending the delivery the confidence to get down on the floor and assist me in delivering him right there on the stool, in less than ten minutes of heroic pushing. I was amazed at how quickly this stage went compared to the last time, I was prepared for a marathon pushing session and I had hardly got going before he was here, delivered right into my hands. My first impression of Geekybaby was how much bigger he was than Geekygirl (he was 8lb 6oz, and 22 inches long. I'm 5ft 2). He was bright pink, vigorous if a little squashed looking, and immediately demonstrated his functioning kidneys by peeing all over his dad. Meeting the fantastic new little person the second time around was just as incredible as the first.

I enjoyed my labours, and not just because they brought us our babies, I enjoyed the actual process. I admit that the power of endorphins must have blunted my memory of how much it hurt, and though I know intellectually that it was very painful, I don't really remember the pain,  I just recall the incredible intensity of the experience. Surrendering to the power that my own body has inherited over the millennia since the first placental mammal gave birth brought me, the biologist, in touch with my own biology, and helped me to see that being strong is not necessarily about being in control.

I won't have any more babies myself, and I'm actually sad that I will never experience labour again.  I want to try and spread the message that giving birth is not just something to be endured, but something that can be enjoyed, and embraced. It was a chance conversation with a friend, shortly after she had  given birth but long before I thought about children myself, that opened my eyes to this concept. I had never heard anyone wax lyrical about the wonder of labour before. I hope I can pass it on.

the birth survey

I'm not a person who usually gets swept up in causes, but after giving birth to two children and sharing stories of the experience with friends on both sides of the Atlantic, I became more and more disturbed by the trends in maternity care in the USA. At first glance it seems we are dazzled with 'choice' in this country, if fortunate enough to have decent health insurance. We can choose our obstetrician or midwife (if we can find a hospital that actually has midwives, or have insurance that covers home birth midwives) and choose the hospital where we get our care and give birth, but when you dig deeper it becomes apparent that without reliable data about rates of intervention such as the use of pitocin, Edpidurals or C sections for individual hospitals and practioners, this choice is an illusion. This survey from the coalition for the improvement of maternity services is collecting data about hospitals and health care practioners that women will be able to use in the future to make informed choices about where to give birth. If you had a baby in the USA in the past three years you can contribute.

skinny jeans and all

This morning I saw my favourite pair of jeans, my second skinniest, peeking at me from the top of the closet. I was in a brave mood, so I pulled them on. And they fit! When I say fit, I mean I can get them on, and I don't look too much like a sausage poured into its casing. Instead of elegantly skimming my hipbones, they push against the mummy muffin top I seem to have grown. And I am realizing that the snap fastening allows them to pop open when I bend over too quickly. But, with a loose flowing top on, they look pretty damn hot, if I do say so myself. I did have a baby less than 6 months ago, after all. My hipbones are still in hiding.

Driving to work, while holding my breath to keep the snap from snapping, I began to think about why fitting into an old pair of jeans should make me so happy. What is it with our obsession with weight?

In my line of work I get the opportunity to read and discuss the latest research on 'energy homeostasis', the broad term used to define the regulation of appetite and metabolism. It is a fascinating topic, and it really is amazing that our bodies work so well. Without us even thinking about it we consume and burn calories day in and day out, and we remain pretty much the same size. Most people do not forget to replace calories burned and accidentally starve to death. Evolution weeded those ancestors out a long time ago. For good reason, most of us err naturally towards the other side of the energy balance. We eat just a little more than we need, and store it for when times are hard. At the moment I'm producing pints of calorie rich milk, but I don't have to conciously decide to eat more to produce it. Through some poorly understood biological mechanism, my appetite increases to meet my calorific needs.

It is my belief that we actually have very little control over our body size. Gina Kolata's fabulous book 'rethinking thin' takes on this controversial subject. She points out that there are hundreds upon hundreds of scientific studies of diets; different types of food, with and without excercise, or psychotherapy, and every single study shows the same thing: most people can lose only modest amounts of weight, and most people end up regaining it. And yet we keep on repeating the experiment over and over, against solid evidence that it doesn't work. She also points out that the media are constantly telling us about the 'obesity epidemic', and it is true that all over the world, people are getting fatter. However all over the world, people are also getting taller, but we don't hear about there being a 'tallness epidemic' now do we?

Perhaps our perception that being overweight is unhealthy and being skinny is good is based less on scientific evidence than on predjudice. This news article popped up today, just as I was pondering these issues.

All I can say, is that although I'm delighted to be in my skinny jeans once more, I'm not giving myself any credit for this acheivement. I just lucked out in the energy homeostasis gene lottery.