Not A Good Dad

I don't like the kind of father I am turning out to be.

K asks a lot of questions, makes a lot of demands and statements, as any four year old will do. I seem to get exasperated with her very easily. When I am doing something I tend to focus on it to the exclusion of everything else and any disruption or interruption is unwelcome. It forces me to change my focus. It is never a problem with adults, but K will fire off a constant stream of statements, usually when I am having difficulty dealing with her sister. I cannot keep the exasperation out of my voice when I answer " Yes, K".

I find that adults tends to think kids understand less than they do. K is smart, I think she already knows that her dad's answer really means that he does not want to talk to her right now. That is not how I want my relationship with my daughter to be.

J is sick, she has a viral infection. Infections and colds are dangerous for her. Because she cannot move around, the usual was of clearing ones lungs are difficult. Most children in her situation die of pneumonia or something related to it.

When she is sick I get worried and stressed. Last night I was holding her for 30 minutes while her body spasmed with coughing, as we tried to get the stuff out of her lungs. During these times, my worry is at its peak, as I deal with the feelings of helplessness, guilt for not doing enough and the what ifs. Of course, it is during this time that K will come up to me and demand juice or tell me that Santa's elves are very talented. Wrapped up in my own worry and doubt, I cannot keep the exasperation out of my voice.

I am pushing her away with my tone. Someday soon she will realize it, if she has not already.

How can I change these feelings? Will I lose both of my children, one to early death, the other to her father's rudeness?

Introducing the Fire Sharks

We signed up K, who is now 4 years old, for soccer this year with the local association. I got wrangled into being the coach. I played soccer up until University and am familiar with the game. take anyone's job I signed up to be an assistant coach. soon after they called me up desprately asking me to be the head coach. At the U6 level, the coach is really the guy who brings the equipment and collects the jersey security cheques from the parents.

However, one of the key things you have to do is pick a team name. The association sets your team name like NASCAR, so everyone is Team (last name of the coach). It's not like I paid for the team, so I don't think naming it after me is appropriate. I decided we would let the kids decide, so before our second game we had a vote.

Due to me being the last one to pick up our jerseys, we got silver as our colour. I liked the name the Silverbacks, but another good suggestion from one of the players was the sharks. Unfortunately, by the second game he had entirely forgotten about his suggestion and wanted to be called the fire hawks.

We put it up to a vote, and, of course, my attempt to dodge any responsibility for the name failed as three voted for fire hawks and three for sharks.

Coaches command decision: Fire Sharks.

Adventures in Beekeeping - Prelude

We have decided to take up Beekeeping as a hobby.

When we moved out of the city, part of our reasoning was to have a bit of a hobby farm. We wanted to have a dog but I don't beleive in having one unless you have lots of room. Also, being more independent, living off the grid, all those things appealed to me. So anything that helps prepare for the Zombie Apocalyse is of interest to me.

Why Bees? Unfortunately, the left wing wife is a bit squemish when it comes to the harvesting part of farming. I am no expert (we both grew up in the suburbs), but the point rasing your own food is to eat it. The wife wants to have all kinds of animals but she refuses to eat them. I am not having a herd of cows or sheep just to watch them die of old age. That is a pretty expensive (and tasty) herd of pets. We are not so rich that we can afford to feed all these animals and not get anything back. We already have two children, I am not adding more unproductive animals to the mix.

So why bees? They are a compromise. They are relativley cheap (I spent less than $500 for everything needed to get started) and it is not such a big deal if I screw up and kill them all. They need some care, but not as much as many animals, and if you neglect them the most likely result is no honey, as opposed to a stinking cow carcass.

And if we get our place designated as a hobby farm, I can cut my property taxes by half.

Posting Again

I am going to start posting again. Things have been busy around here. With the kids growing up and various new hobbies we are pursuing, there might be stuff worth posting.

This blog will focus on the following (in no particular order):

Deal with the left wing wife
Dealing with the kids
Taking care of a severely handicapped child
Country life around our 20 acres
Beekeeping (just started it yesterday)
Politics

So expect a wide variety of stuff with a focus on the lighter side.

If anything I post interests or informs you, great. If not, too bad.

It really is more about me, not you.

Thank you Al Gore

Here is a picture taken of my back yard on Friday.

Global Warming my ass!

Normally, there is so little rainfall in our part of Alberta, I can go much of the summer without having to cut the grass. Spring is the time I have to do most of the cutting, and this spring has been very wet. I consider spring begun when I have to do my first cutting.

K did get one last chance to build a snowman. The snow was think and easy rolling. I had cut the grass twice before this snowfall. With the two cuttings, there was a lot of mulch on the lawn.

She named the snowman "Grassy".

Irony thy name is The Laugh Shop

The wife had her birthday on Friday, so I took her out for Indian food and to a local comedy club called The Laugh Shop.

Now, I have been to comedy clubs before. I wanted a seat not too far in the back so we could see, but not too close to the front, so as not to be in the firing line. Guess where they put us? The club is very small, so our table was to one side, practically on the stage. The light was shining in my eyes and it felt like we were on stage with the guy. There was another table beside us, in the same situation, however, those people did not show up. On the other side of the stage there was a large party so their tables were pushed together, out of the light. Even the front row, directly in front, was less obvious than us, as they were out of the light and much lower than the stage. Ironic.

I was the biggest target all night. To be fair, I offered us up when I volunteered that the wife was having a birthday. Of course, the guy focused on me instead.

His name was Mike and was from New York, and served as the opening act for the headliner. I actually thought he was funnier than the other guy.

After picking on some poor blue collar, already half in the bag already guy Trevor, he focused on me. His main thing was suggesting that I was "retarded", that I thought my family were pickles, and I was going to my house on the moon after the show. He called me "Pickle" all night and did the stereotypical mannerisms of a "retarded" person. The crowd thought it was funny. I, less so, seeing as I was the butt of the jokes.

As our daughter is severely mentally handicapped, the wife was not too impressed and was going to write about our situation on the back of the comment card. I stopped her. Some of you may know of a case brought up to a Human Rights Commission in B.C. where this comic made fun of some lesbians. Comedy can be hit and miss, but I would rather the guy be free to say what he wants. Writing on the comment card would do nothing, except perhaps for the owner to refuse some acts because they might offend. Being offended is a chance you take and I would rather take that chance than have censorship.

I did not get a chance to bring up the situation of our daughter. Too bad, I thought that would be really funny, in a put-the-comic-in-his-place sort of way.

The sad thing is, I wish and I pray that my daughter was only as mentally handicapped as the stereotype that Mike portrayed. Imagine if J could walk, talk, take interest in things and smile.

That is irony.

More posting

Well, things have been a bit busy around the house for the last few years. However, I think it is time to start up this blog again. I will begin posting, some recent stuff and also looking back and updating on our lives.

Update: You may find things a bit disjointed. I will be writing about the last 2 years as well as what has been going on recently. It's my blog, so you will just have to suck it up.

The Challanges of being a Stay-At-Home Dad

Let me be completely honest. I didn't think taking care of the kids would be very hard. Cooking, washing clothes, etc, it's not that difficult. My opinion hasn't changed. What has changed is my appreciation of the mental aspects. I had no idea my sanity would be taxed this much. I wanted to have kids, and found, for the most part, I enjoyed dealing with them. I helped teach taekwondo for a few years, so had some small measure of an idea what they were like.

I am still able to deal with my daughters in a way I am happy with, the problem comes when I get frustrated, angry, etc. This, I think, is when most parents act or deal with their children in a way that they are not proud of. We are all human, we all make mistakes The key is reducing those moments to the smallest number possible.

The main mental challenge I face is the isolation. Two year old conversation consists mostly of "Don't do that", or "Put that down!"interspaced with "Why are you crying?", "Tell Daddy what you want", and "Use you words".

In order to keep from going insane, you have to get out. Unfortunately, a few things conspire to make this difficult. Firstly, I am a bit of a home body. I like to stay at home, in my sanctuary. Having two the same age also makes it more difficult, as well as Jocelyn's situation.

But the last thing is the most difficult. People can claim otherwise, but the only reason any parent takes the kids anywhere is to talk to other adults and have an adult conversation. The kids don't really care. My daughter will find a cardboard box or a rock as interesting as a trip, so why go through all the trouble of getting them dressed, getting diapers, toys, wipes, food, etc together just to go somewhere when they would be just as happy at home?

It's for the parents.

That is where being a man is a problem. In this area of Alberta anyway, being a stay at home dad is still a bit of a novelty. Based on my own observations, 99.9% of all stay at home parents are women. When the Wife was pregnant, she came across a stay at home mom group advertising at the local mall. She asked if her husband could join, as he was going to stay home with the kids. They laughed. They were tripping over themselves once they saw she was serious, but, even with all the crap about equality over the past 20 years, it did not occur to them that she might be serious.

So how to join one of these groups? Although I am sure I would be outwardly welcomed, (politically correctness and all that) I feel a bit uncomfortable. It is always all women except me, and I feel like an outsider. I feel like the only guy at the slumber party and I am somehow inhibiting these people from being themselves. I understand that, as any group of guys is not the same when there are women in the group. Besides, they want to talk about women things, which I am not very interested in. The only thing we share in common is raising kids, and that is the last thing I want to talk about. The only solution is some sort of Dad group.

As you can imagine, in our area there are plenty of mom groups around. Dads, not so much. Stay at home dads are somewhat like sightings of Bigfoot or the Lock Ness Monster. When people find out I look after the kids, they often say they know a friend of a friend of a friend who stays at home with their kids. However, no one knows their names or has ever met them. So far, I have heard of two other men in our town looking after kids, and both of these had all the detail and credibility of a Bigfoot sighting.

If there are any guys in the Edmonton area wanting to prevent kid-induced insanity, drop me a line.

A Severe Lack of Posting

I haven't posted on this blog for over three months. I just haven't felt like it.

Well, that is not completely true. When the problem with my daughter came about, the focus of this blog changed. The political of differences in world view between my wife and I became less important. I hoped that this blog would be more about dealing with our situation and would provide information to other stay at home dads and those dealing with one mentally handicapped twin. A somewhat small set of people.

I hoped that this blog would provide information and support. I hoped it would provide hope.

And that is the real reason for a lack of posting. The truth is I have not been very hopeful these last few months. In fact, I have been depressed. More depressed than I have been anytime in my life.

I think I am a generally upbeat person, more about getting on with it than wallowing in mistakes or situations that I could not change. I recognize now that there have been difficult times in the past that have affected me. But never has it been this bad.

The truth is I am not interested in getting up in the morning. Each day is exactly the same. Get up, change babies, stop one of them from doing various things, encouraging others, feed them, make dinner, put them to bed. Repeat until death. In fact, I have spent more time in escapist pursuits, such as reading, to make me forget about my situation. In fact, I am like a crack addict, my life being counted out between "hits", except my hits are those times when I can forget that my life is all about menial tasks that never end, and will never end because one of my children will never be able to take care of herself in any way.

I have more respect for my stay at home mom than ever. I don't know how she did it and I have felt many times over the past few months that I cannot. I always thought I would be a good father. Staying home and looking after the children has made me question that.

In addition to constantly questioning my fitness as a parent, there is Jocelyn. I can't help but be depressed every time I think about her. With what limited mental capacity she has, I can still see a personality there. All I can think about is the lost potential of her life. And the close sister that Katherine is missing out on. The unique experience of having an identical twin, which should have been a wonderful experience for both of them, is gone.

And then, in moments of my own selfishness, I think of myself. The one thing about having kids and going through all this with them is the thought that they will eventually grow up. I can survive a few years of changing diapers and blowing runny noses if there is light at the end of the tunnel. Except there is no light. Jocelyn will never grow up. For the rest of my life or hers, I will be looking after an infant. The only release from this obligation will be death of one of us. Since if I die I won't care about getting my life back, the only way my family will ever be normal is if she does. And it is a likely occurrence. Most kids in her situation survive five or ten years. So, my salvation from a life of being responsible for every aspect of my child's life is her death. I hate thinking this. Yet I cannot imagine what life would be like without her and I would miss her terribly. So, release from this obligation means a giant hole in my life and the guilt that some part of me, however small, wished for it to happen. Or I can continue to have this obligation, with no end in sight and the feelings that go along with it.

I have heard how often some people, after many years of life, are accepting of death. Either they feel they have lived a good life or welcome death as a release from pain, physical or emotional. I never understood that. I always thought that I would want to live forever, always interested in what might happen next and in seeing everything there might be to see in this universe.

Not anymore.

How you know there is nothing they can do for your child..

...when they start to focus on you.

Yesterday we took Jocelyn for her appointment with a specialist who focuses on the problems with her spine and hip. We got pretty much what we expected, but some, sort of good news. Although her spine is curving and will likely eventually bend her so it starts to compress her organs on that side, there is a small chance it may not progress any further. Also, it will take many years, (probably 4) before it gets that bad, so we have time. The same thing for her hip. Although it appears to be starting to dislocate, there is a chance it will progress no further. We have about 2 years before that becomes critical. We can pretend to be a normal family for a bit longer.

The real interesting part comes after talking about her. This is when he talks about us, the parents, and alternative therapies. Alternate therapies are those with no studies showing they work or do not work. Alternative therapies range from stretching (no studies prove that this will help with her hip) to all sorts of weird, witch doctor type stuff.

effect, something like 40% of people will report improvement from anything as long as they He did not propose or endorse any of these things. He made it clear it is up to us and that we must look at it. (The wife has been doing a lot of research on this stuff and seemed to know more about some of them than he did. Also, due to the placebobelieve it may help.) The only caution he gave us is the effect that alternative therapies can have on a marriage and families. There are people who have mortgaged their house to pay for this stuff. As well, usually one spouse wants to try anything while the other thinks there is no point, and this leads to serious problems when the family is poor and living on the street and one spouse thought it was a waste of money.

So, it seems that since there is very little we can do for our daughter, the biggest problem we face is dealing with the effects of that and the possible break up of our marriage/family.

For me, I want to do what is best for our daughter. To me, that seems to be making her as comfortable as possible. At this point, there is nothing we can do to treat her problem, only the symptoms. I am not willing to mortgage the farm when it won't address the problem.

If there was even a slim chance we could treat the situation with her brain, I might feel differently.

Try these shoes on for a while

Robert Latimer is back in the news. He was up for parole this week after spending the last 15 years in prison.

There has been some discussion of this issue at SDA and Halls of macadamia, two blogs which I frequent.

I wanted to give a bit of perspective on this issue from someone who may be facing it in the future. My own opinion of Mr. Latimer is that while I don't condone what he did, I can understand the circumstances. He has more than paid his debt to society and should be released.

A lot of the comments I have read on this issue come from people that I think have not examined the situation.

Try this.

Look at your child. Bring up all the feelings you have for that child. All the love, the desire to protect, the feeling that you would do anything for that child. Now, imagine that when that child was 3 months old, you were told that, not due to anything that anyone did, through no fault of your own, it just being "one of those things", your child was severely brain damaged. Although that is not exactly true. The truth being that she does not have much of a brain to damage. In fact, you figure her brain is about 25% of her twin sister (the doctors don't tell you this, it is your estimate, based on the fact that her head is noticeably smaller than her sister and you saw the scans of her brain, and there was significantly more black areas (areas of nothing, just fluid), than white areas).

At your pediatrician's you ask how long she is expected to live. He says 5 years, 10, maybe 20, maybe more, we just don't know. However, he will tell you that he he has never seen a baby with this much damage survive (the doctor is in his sixties and has probably been practicing for over 40 years. He is well known throughout the city and is respected as a good doctor). He then suggests that you may want to consider how much you want to treat her when she gets sick. He tiptoes around the point by stating that in most of these cases, the baby gets pneumonia from fluid in the lungs and most parents deny extreme measures (ie antibiotics. (when did antibiotics become extreme?)) and after a few bouts of pneumonia, probably over a number of years, the patient dies.

Your wife drives home because you can't stop crying. And I mean crying, like uncontrollable sobs, while the words, "how can I make a decision to let my baby die" run over and over through you mind.

Fast forward one year. Your daughter is not in pain, but it is a struggle to get enough of the food she needs through the tube in her stomach. She throws up at least once a day, and you have spent the last year changing her feeding habits, formula, time and the rate in an effort to minimize it. When not asleep, she sounds as if she is fighting to breathe and not to choke. You have an appointment next week where you will discuss what to do about the fact that her muscle contractions are starting to force one hip out of alignment and she will probably dislocate it soon. Her spine is severely curved, even for a baby so young. At least she doesn't have seizures (they think she does not have enough brain matter to have them).

class or girl Now consider that, with such little brain matter, she is not going to get better. Her quality of life will not improve past that of a month old baby. She will never walk, talk, or feed herself. She will likely never reach for anything voluntarily, to form a desire to do something and then do it. She will never be able to say I love you daddy. You are not even sure what she can see or hear, although she does seem to, at times, turn towards the sound of your voice. You decide that you will take that as a sign that she knows that you are her dad and you will hold that as tight as you can.

However, you cannot live in a fantasy world all the time. You have to fact the facts. No amount of physical therapy, visual therapy, stimulation or anything is going to improve her quality of life, even though you do all of them. What else can you do? She is your child. Now, imagine forward ten or eleven years from now. The curved spine and hip are not going to get better. All they can do is slow the rate at which they progress. What will her hip and spine be like in then, if she is even alive? How much pain will she be in? What will her quality of life be like. Remember also that you have other children. You want their live to be as normal as possible. Do you want your other child to miss out on ballet and girl guides because of her sister? Do you want them to begin to resent their sister? What if your disabled daughter outlives you? She is your child, it is your duty to care for her, but do you really want to burden her sister with that when you die?

Welcome to my world.

Try putting yourself in Mr. Latimer's shoes before you condemn him.

Annoying Telemarketers

We recently got high speed internet access. Before, I would spend much of the day connected to the net at dial up speeds, browsing blog, read news, etc.

Now the phone is free. This is a good thing, as now I don’t mess calls about Jocelyn’s medical appointments.

However, the down side is now I am rushing to answer the phone and am getting all the telemarketers.

Citibank is the worst. We don’t have any business with them at all, which I suppose is why they are so insistent. They got the wife’s name somehow and they call at least once a week. Of course, she is never here when they call, so they always say they will call back. I few times I pretended to be her, just to see what they want (They don’t even have her first name, just an initial, so you know they are selling something). They just want us to use their credit card with the “new, low introductory rate offer”. How stupid do they think we are? Nine percent for the first few months then up to 18.75% and a yearly fee. Some deal.

Once, I thought I would test them a bit (Sometimes its nice to talk to an adult) I said I was interested but my present credit card has no fee, and I want a lower average rate, what can you do for me? The silence on the other end was deafening. They actually hung up on me.

Of course, that gets tiring real quick. So after only a few days of answering the phone where 90% of the time it is Citibank, I have had enough.

The next time they call I am going to threaten them by saying I will blow an airhorn in the phone if they do not stop calling. A Man’s home is supposed to be his castle and time is precious. I shouldn’t have to spend a portion of that fighting off salespeople.

Oh, and don’t talk to me about do not call lists. I should not have to call someone to tell them to stop calling me. I should be able to tell them when they call not to call anymore.

Why would I ever want to be their customer if they do not respect my wishes not to call me?

Trapped

I used to hear about how women could feel trapped staying at home. I would see/hear about shows, such as Oprah, where women would talk about how hard it was to be a stay at home parent. I would listen but never believe. I mean, stay at home, no stress from work, just throw in a few loads of laundry once in a while. How hard could that be?

I still believe it is easy in that respect, but it is the mental aspects that are the hardest.

You hear men (great fodder for comedy) talk about coming home from a hard day at work and the wife just laying into them about nothing, all mad about something very minor that happened days ago. They would chalk it up to hormones or something of that nature.

It's not hormonal, as I just experienced it.

For the last three hours I have been trying to get a few things done and make a few simple phone calls. Katherine has been very demanding of attention at the worst possible moments and cannot be distracted. I hate whining in children, and she can be very effective at it if she doesn't get what she wants.

After three hours of this I have a headache and I feel like I am going to snap. I just made a typo and I had an urge to throw this laptop.

I am angry. But I can't take it out on the children, because they do not know any better and then I would be a bad parent. The logical, or most readily available target is the wife.

If the wife can home right now I would find any excuse to start a fight so I could have an outlet.

Hopefully a telemarketer will call before she gets home so I can take it out on them.

Honey, if you are reading this at work, bring flowers.

First Words

I think Katherine said her first words today.

I was lying on the couch while she was climbing on me and she hit me in the chest and said "Da-da-da". It is not unusual for a child's first words to be da-da, and she has been saying that and much more for some time, but this is the first indication that it is not just random words. Of course, I have been pointing to my chest and saying "da-da" for months now, so it may just be random.

The wife, ever eager to rain on my parade, immediately announced that the other day Katherine hit herself in the chest and said "da-da", so it may be that she thinks that is the word for chest.

Either way, this will be the official date of her first word.

Another First

Yesterday, Katherine caused her first serious injury to herself.

I was in our living room and she was roaming. She moved into our bedroom and found some metal clothes hangers that were on the floor. Of course, everything goes into her mouth and she used the cut end to open a gash on the inside of her cheek.

I pieced this together after the fact. The first I knew of it was a loud scream and great gobs of blood in her mouth, over her clothes and on the floor.

Nothing too serious, and no trip to the hospital was required, but I have now experienced what it is like to hear a scream of distress from your child and come to find lots of blood from and unknown source.

Gone Swimming

Today was the start of extra activities with the twins. We went swimming at our local community rec center. At their age, swimming class consists of splashing, kicking and floating (with help). Katherine really enjoyed it, only becoming upset when I did not let her go off on her own. Jocelyn cannot participate at the same level as Katherine, but she did not cry and seemed to enjoy the water.

Unfortunately, every activity in the pool is done with a song, which is the usual repetitive jingles of children's songs. Fortunately there are no other fathers in the group and none of my Army buddies are there to see me. My own view of my manhood takes a bit of a hit when I am singing songs that start with "The frog says.."

There are some hot moms out there. I am going to have to start working out again.

P.S. Thanks to our friends and neighbours for helping me with the girls.

Happy Birthday Twins!

This week, the girls' had their first birthday. What a disaster.

One year is a bit young to get the whole presents thing, so I did not expect much. Dirt on the floor is new and exciting to a one year old, so a present is not much different.

For those of you do not know, putting a sparkler on a cake for a one year old is not a good idea.

After that, things went a bit downhill. I opened the presents, but Katherine was still a bit upset. Only the cake calmed her down, as she proceeded to shove fistfuls, as much as she could hold in her hand.

Katherine gets upset at times, but it usually doesn't last very long. That night she spent 45 minutes to an hour screaming as we were trying to put her to sleep, and not normal screaming, but the extremely loud, "I am really upset", screaming. Nothing we did could calm her down. We eventually just had to put her down and let it run its course. That is the first time she has ever done anything like that.

First Birthday: Twins receive some books, stuffed animals, and a toy drum. Parents receive a screaming fit the likes of which they have never experienced before.

I guess we will call that even.

Home Alone: Day 5

The Wife comes home tomorrow.

Yesterday and today went very well. I think I have a hang of this Mr Mom stuff. In fact, I got the kitchen clean for the first time in a year.

It is easy to keep things in proper order when you are by yourself. When the Wife is here, she usually makes dinner. Unfortunately, she thinks that making dinner means that just about every pot, pan dish or utensil must be used. And she leaves them all piled up in the sink for me to deal with. I prefer to clean as I go, to keep my workspace in good order and minimize the mountain of dishes at the end.

I have a good feeling that I can handle when she gets back to work. I like to be organized, and the house is still disorganized from when we moved two years ago. I have been deferring to her when it comes to the house, but it's time for me to embrace the housewife job fully.

There's a new sheriff in town.

Home Alone: Day 4

Things are going well.

Thursday was horrible, as Katherine was in a mood and would not stop going to her sister to play with her. We are trying not to discourage her from interacting with Jocelyn, but it is hard when playing consist of steamrolling over her or lying on her face.

Other than that, I have not left the house since the Wife left. The weather has been poor, constant rain or very cloudy, so I have not been able to put Katherine in her pool. Today looks better, with more sun. We are all going out no matter what. I don't care if it is to buy toilet paper, but I am getting out of this house before I go squirrelly.

Home Alone: The Wife is Gone

Well, the wife finally left me.

No, you don’t get to collect on the pool. She left for a 5 day trip with a group she belongs to, so I am here, alone with the babies. I consider this a test for when she goes back to work at the end of the month. I just got back from two weeks away and she survived, so how hard could it be?

She left me with only one rule to follow. Well, actually, she left me with about a million small rules. Everything from who wears what, when who gets to eat what, to what shampoo to use between the hours to 3 and 5 am on days ending in Y. (I exaggerate on the last one, but only just.) Anyway, being a man, I mostly tuned it all out. Being a military man, I prefer my instructions simple and to the point. So I distilled the millions of little pieces of advice into one overall point, or, as we like to call it, mission:

Keep the babies alive until I return.

Piece of cake.

Guilt and the Modern Woman

Part of the reason I married the Wife is she lacks some of the stereotypical female traits that I find annoying.

Some women need a man. The Wife does not. She is very independent. We met in our 30's and I know she married me, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Even the ticking of the biological clock is not a factor in her case, as I was the one who wanted to have kids, while she was a bit ambivalent about it.

However, there are some stereotypical biological imperatives that even she cannot overcome.

Guilt.

The wife has her thing once a week. In addition, one of us often goes out to shop or run errands while the other stays home with the kids. We used to try taking them both, but having twins is a license for anyone to come up to you and say "Twins! How cute. My friend/sister/relative has twins." I estimate anything we do with the girls takes at least 10% longer from people coming up to talk to you.

Although the Wife may not have had a strong biological drive to have kids, some of those drives kicked in after. Most strongly was guilt.

Once a week, when she goes out for the evening, she comes back feeling guilty that she has "abandoned" them, despite the fact that I also go out one evening a week. We both have personal things to do, and I often tell her to take some extra time for herself when she is picking up groceries to get her hair done, whatever she wants. She always comes back feeling guilty for leaving the kids for so long, despite the fact that it was my idea and it was only 2 hours. Believe me, I do not feel any guilt when I am away for a few hours and browsing through Best Buy.

I am not proud of it, but sometimes I will use this to my advantage and overstate how things were while she was gone. “This one wouldn’t stop crying, the other one wouldn’t settle down, I have a headache” etc. This is usually good for at least a clean up of the kitchen.

I expect this will become a high payoff strategy when the Wife goes back to work and I have them all day.

A Day with a Social Workers is Like a Day Without Sunshine

I don't like social workers.

No offense to good social workers out there, but our experience has not been very positive.

About a day and a half after Jocelyn was born, she started to have seizures and had to go on medication. This was the first sign that something more was wrong than could be explained away by birth stress. The doc was very honest with us about it, and the Wife broke down and started to cry. There was a social worker hovering in the background who just about pounced on her with "How do you feel? Do you want to talk about it?" I have just found out that the chance of my daughter surviving has gone down significantly, how do you think I feel about it? And why would I want to share that with I person I have not even met before?

Needless to say, with the exception of one, throughout this whole process I have not met a good social worker. They seem to hover around waiting for you to have an emotional breakdown so they can swoop in and save the day. And they expect that I can't wait to share my innermost feelings with a total stranger whom I will never see again. Or they are spies looking to see if you can't deal with your baby so the heavy hand of the state can snatch it away. Perhaps I am a bit paranoid, but it isn't paranoia if they are out to get you.

The one we did like was very unassuming, gave us her card and said to call if we needed anything. We are not going to call, but I appreciated her low key approach.

I see the Social Worker like the Grim Reaper. You know it's bad if the social worker shows up. It's a cue that the news is going to be bad and you will be upset. In fact, if they do show up, you probably should get upset, otherwise they might think you are some non-feeling monster and start looking into you more closely.

In these cases, it is the job of the Wife to be emotional while I play the strong, supportive husband.

Surgery

A week ago we went in for a consult for a gastro intestinal (GI) tube for our daughter. She has been feeding through an NG tube for the past nine months. We were not keen on a G tube, but NG tubes are supposed to be temporary and it is not realistic at this point to think that we will ever be able to feed her enough orally to keep her alive, so this is the only option.

There are two ways to do this procedure. One is surgically, where they actually cut you open and muck about. The second and less intrusive way is to go in with a scope, inflate the stomach with air and find a place between the stomach and skin where there are no big organs or blood vessels and push a needle through to make a hole for the tube.

The scope procedure did not work, as the doc could not find a location where he was 100% certain that he would not pierce something vital. It's better to be safe than sorry. Unfortunately, this means we spent a day in the hospital and put our daughter through an IV and being knocked out for nothing. We have a consult with the surgeon on Friday.

At least we did not have to see a Social Worker.

Back to Posting

It has been some time since I posted, but I think I am ready to update this blog.

Stay tuned for regular updates.

The Future of this Blog

Let's be honest. The title of this blog is no longer fitting. The little fights or "differences in perspective" between myself and the Wife, seems less important now that we have children.

Don't get me wrong. Not much has changed. I still complain about the stupidity of the lefties, the Wife still ignores me. Some things will never change.

However, Having twins, one of then needing special care, that stuff takes a back seat. There is a saying about how most young people are to the left of the political divide, but as they grow up they move to the right. I think it has less to do with age, and more to do with responsibility. A lefty in my situation is too busy worrying about his own problems to try to come up with wacky solutions to the problems of others.

The focus of this blog is changing. It was always about my life and what was going on between me and the wife/girlfriend. As we become more focussed on our children, so does this online diary.

Blogging has been light of late. It’s not that I haven’t had the time. Since we are both at home, we have nothing but time. The simple reason is that I have not felt like it. Things are stabilizing a bit, and I have more to complain about, so things might pick up.

My focus will be more on what it is like raising a disabled twin, as that is what my life is now about. I hope this blog will be more positive than negative, and that our experiences may help other in similar situations.

To all those who have left their thoughts and prayers, thank you. They have helped to sustain us through this difficult time.

Storm Coming In

I used to consider myself a positive person. Life was a good thing punctuated by the occasional unpleasant experience, such as going to work or paying taxes.

Our daughter's condition hangs over us like a cloud. Life now seems like a darkness punctuated by the occasional time I can forget that this has happened. The one bright spot that always makes me happy is our other daughter, Katherine. I have long wanted to be a parent, but not until I became one did I truly understand the love one can have for a child. I would do anything to protect them. That is what makes Jocelyn so hard, as there is little we can do.

Her life expectancy is based primarily on three factors: Whether or not she has seizures, how mobile she is, and how able she is to feed herself. Seizures usually turn up in the 4 to 6 months. No sign of them yet and they passed the 4 month mark 2 weeks ago. There are things we can do to improve her mobility, such as working with a physical therapists and we can continue to try to feed her as much as possible.

Her life expectancy is 15-20 years, depending on the three factors. Her chance of seizures are about 80%. It is likely she will, at best, be confined to a wheelchair and we have had little success bottle feeding her.

We intend to keep trying, but the chances of improvement are slim.

The un Christmas

It doesn't feel much like Christmas around here, although there is a lot of snow.

The Wife is a bit depressed. I guess we are still getting used to it. When we found out we we having twins, I was shocked and fearful that we couldn't handle two at once. I think she got used to it sooner than I and started to think and look forward to the unique relationship they would have with each other. There will be an even more unique relationship now, just not the one we expected.

It's two days before Christmas, and we still have not put up the tree. Neither of us are big on the outward displays about Christmas (trees, lights, etc) and with both of us at home, every day seems to blur into the next. Since neither of us have to go to work, days and time do not matter.

The only thing we need time for is to figure out what to watch on TV.

Help for children with Disabilities

Kate at SDA put me onto this article at the Globe and Mail about a plan to allow parent to put up to $200,000 aside for their severely disabled children.

Although we have been in this position for 2 weeks, I have already considered the future for our daughter. The wife and I are both in our mid 30's, so it is likely that our daughter will live a long time beyond us. I would hate to put our other children under a financial burden after we are gone.

I hope this measure is implemented as soon as possible.

Significant is Significant

We had another meeting with Jocelyn's doctor today. Last week, he had the report which noted significant brain damage, but he had not seen the MRI or talked to the experts. I was hoping "significant" was not that significant.

It is. Jocelyn has almost no outer brain, that which controls higher functions. It seems the hope I was clinging to was unfounded.

In these cases, there is a high chance that she will develop seizures and babies in this situation have a 50-50 chance of making it through their first year.

As disturbing as that is, it is not the worst thing we may have to face. He brought up the subject of what measures we want to do to keep her alive, leading me to believe this is something we may have to face soon.

How can I make that kind of decision?

Parents are supposed to care for and protect their children. How can I not do everything possible to protect her? Yet, if her quality of life is so poor that she will never talk, eat, walk or even be aware of what is going on around her, is it really best for her to keep her alive artificially?

I do not want to have to face these decisions.

Bittersweet Babies

One of the things parents take joy in is the development of their babies. Their first word, their first steps, their first smile.

Last week, Katherine started to communicate with us. She smiles and makes different noises as I look at her. She tries to repeat the sounds I make and laughs when I laugh at her.

However, even through all the wonderment I feel, there always exists a bit of sadness in the back of my mind. Will Jocelyn ever do these things? Will she ever smile at me? What will her life be like? And will I be able to deal with it?

That sounds a bit selfish to me, but my biggest worry is about the wife and I, and will we be able to handle this.

A Day in the Life

Caring for children is difficult.

Both the wife an I are at home, and I still find it a draining experience. A guy I know has twins that are a few months older than ours, and his wife stays home alone with them. I do not know how she does it.

We usually get up around eight am. The girls sleep until about then. Katherine usually sleeps the whole night, from 11 pm, Jocelyn gets up usually once at about 3 or 4 am.

Overall, not much to complain about there. Ours are pretty good compared to other horror stories I have heard.

The problem comes during the day. I feel like I spend my whole life in the living room. There are days when I do not go outside. The wife and I look forward to running out of something, so someone has an excuse to go out.

I have become very familar with the TV schedule. There is nothing much on in the morning, so we leave it on CTV Newsnet until I cannot stand their lefty crap anymore. That is usually about noon, so I switch to CPAC and watch what is going on in the House. After that, I usually flip it around between Seinfeld, and Dr Phil or occasionally to the Food Network, as the wife likes their stuff. Before supper, the wife likes to watch Scrubs. Then it is into the evening schedule, where we just pick the best thing we can.

That is close to 15 hours of TV per day. It sickens me as well, but we are a bit stuck. As Katherine sleeps all night, we almost have to continuously feed her through the day. Jocelyn needs to be hooked up to her feeding machine every two hours, but she requires almost constant holding to keep her calm and relaxed. This means we just use the TV as something to look at while looking after them. The rest of the time is spent cooking meals, using the bathroom or having a shower (something I have yet to have today).

Needless to say, I am feeling fat, tired and generally down.

Hopefully it turns around a bit.

An Interesting perspective on Gay Marriage

A great post at The Politic regarding gay marriage.

Shane has some interesting points.

MRI Results

On Monday, we received the MRI results. They were not good.

Sometime during the pregnancy, Jocelyn's brain was denied blood, not allowing it to develop normally. She has areas in her brain where there is no brain matter, all of them in the outer brain, where all the higher brain functions are. I do not know how big these areas are, but they are described in the report as "significant".

We have to be prepared for the fact that she may never be able to walk, speak or acknowledge us. We have to be prepared for the fact that she may need to be institutionalized for most of her life.

Next Monday we will get a look at the actual MRI to see how big these spaces are and come to some sort of plan with how to proceed next.

3 Month MRI

On Thursday, Jocelyn had an MRI.

I spent most of the day in the hospital. We had the first appointment in the morning and with babies under 3 months, they like to keep you after to insure there are no reactions to the anesthesia.

The MRI went well. She was done by eight am and woke up right after.

Tomorrow morning, we see the doc for the results.

We may get some idea what is wrong, or not. I am not sure what result I want. The truth is, I am hoping that we are not going to find anything wrong. It's a bit confusing. We know something is wrong. Her last MRI was abnormal, but they cannot tell how that abnormality will effect her or even if it will affect her (at least that's what they tell me). The brain is still a mystery, so I am hoping that her brain will compensate for whatever was the problem and she will develop normally. Finding something means my hope might be dashed. I think the wife is the opposite. She wants to have a name put to it so we can start doing something about it.

My bet is that tomorrow they will say they still see something wrong, but will have no idea what it means to her. This is probably the best result for me, as I can still hope but it is the worst result for the wife, as it leaves many questions.

Right now, it is obvious Jocelyn is different from her sister and behind in development. Last week, her sister started to smile and now responds to me making faces and noises at her. However, this does not mean Jocelyn has development problems, as she was in the hospital for a month. Being sick is not conducive to normal development and she can be expected to be a month behind her sister. She has given us some positive signs. She has been gaining weight her, cries are getting louder and she is becoming more interested in things going on around her. However, compare her to her sister, and you would not think they are the same age.

So, you can see why I still cling to hope. She is obviously not caught up yet, but she is showing signs of developing. The question is, is it enough and will she eventually catch up.

Tomorrow we will find out. Or not.

Family Update

I have lately been a bit negligent in posting.

Things have settled down a bit lately, and I am now able to devote a bit more time to blogging. Over the next few weeks I will pick up my posting and update everyone on how we are doing.

So far, the babies are doing well. Both are at home. Katherine is fine and doing all the things a baby should and is now over 9 pounds. Jocelyn is just over 7 pounds and is being fed through an NG tube (tube in her nose). Other than that, she is not on any drugs. We have appointments with her doctor every week, just to monitor.

She had a bit of a problem last month in that she was not gaining weight. It was my fault. There are two main things going on with her. Babies need to gain weight, but we also want to get her off her feeding tube. She is on the tube because she is unable to get enough food to gain weight through a bottle, as she has not had the practice. So we were trying to do both and focusing on getting her off the tube. Over 4 days in October, we fed her bottle only, and made great strides. She was up to almost a 60 ml each feeding. Unfortunately, she was not able to keep this up the number of times necessary to gain weight and she lost ½ a pound in a week. At this point we had two babies, genetically the same but one at 6 pounds and one at 9 pounds. The hospital gave us a machine to regulate the formula. I swore I would never use this machine, as I saw it as a symbol of our failure to get her off the tube. It was at this point that I had to reevaluate and give up trying to do two things at once. We barely try to feed her with the bottle and the machine has ensured that she gets what she needs and she is up over seven pounds now.

We still do not know what, if anything, is wrong with her. We have an MRI at the end of the month and that may tell us something, or it may not. She has been calming down, has been less upset and she is often alert, looking around and responding to noises and objects. However, her head size is near the bottom of the percentile, so that is not good.

I think the waiting to know is the hardest.

Next post I will talk a bit about how this affects the parents.

Together At Last

Yesterday, Jocelyn came home.

We spent Thursday night in the hospital. They have a overnight room for families and we took the both and spent the night there. It is a sort of trial run, to help see if you can cope.

I am not much for big organizations telling me what I can and cannot do, especially with my own children, so I was tempted to tell them to stick it and just take her home. However, the wife seemed to want to follow the "rules" and I think it made her more comfortable to go through a trial run with medical help close by if necessary.

The whole system makes you consider what type of people they normally deal with. The first time I realised there were some very different people out there was during the first set of rounds, where I heard them talking about the wife in the thrid person and mentioning that "the mother" had no history of drug or alcohol abuse during pregnancy.

The hospital staff was constantly tiptoeing around us, making it very obvious they were not trying to pressure us, to make sure we were confortable with dealing with both of them. Nice of them to be so understanding, but it gets a bit tiring being treated like a teenage single mom all the time.

However, we jumped through the hoops and they are our children now.

We are free to screw them up just like everyone else.

So Close We Can Taste It

Yesterday, Jocelyn passed a car seat test and had her monitors removed. We have a meeting with the nutritionist in the morning.

We are now this close to bringing her home. I am hoping we can bring her home tomorrow. The wife expects a few more days, as she feels we need the time to start to get her on a schedule and she wants to spend at least a day at the hospital getting her used to our way of operating.

I don't thin they will wait that long and to be honest, I am starting to feel guilty about taking up a bedspace.

It is a great position to be in and I thought it would never come.

Good News

We had a bit of a breakthrough with Jocelyn yesterday.

She took 20 ml of formula through a bottle yesterday. This may not sound like much, but it is the first time she has been successfully fed like a baby since she was born. This is significant as it is the only thing keeping her in the hospital. We have been hoping and trying to get her to feed for the past week.

Since she was born, she has been getting fed through an IV or feeding tube. Babies have a natural instinct to suck, but she has not been required to use it for the last 4 weeks. We were unsure if she would be able to. She has been showing us positive signs all week, but this is most encouraging.

Assuming she continues to improve this week, she may be able to come home as soon as this weekend.

Babies Update

So far, everyone is doing better.

Mom still has some pain for the C section. It takes about 6 weeks to fully recover. You hear about women who prefer a C section, as it is more "convenient", more civilized and less painful. I do not see how anyone would choose a C section over natural childbirth. It is major surgery, one of the few that they have to cut you open for. I recommend avoiding it if possible.

Katherine is doing great. She is eating a lot, but she usually gives us 3-4 hours between feedings. We have to supplement her feeding with formula, as the wife is constantly pumping breast milk, as we try to get as much as possible to Jocelyn. I think the wife is starting to feel a bit like a cow.

Jocelyn is doing better. All drugs, IV's etc are out of her. She is still feeding through a tube and the plan is to wean her off of that. It must be done slowly, to ensure she still gains weight and can feed normally when we get her home. We hope to have her home in 1-2 weeks.

On the other aspect, we still do not know what is wrong. They are suggesting her brain development was not normal, based on an MRI. However, they cannot (or will not) speculate on what that means for her development. My understanding is that most of the time they cannot tell, and must monitor the child's development and base any predictions on that.

So, it seems unlikely that we will get any definitive answers. We will be taking her in for scans at regular intervals for probably the next 5 years, and maybe to special development training. Not much more to say on this subject. It could be nothing; she might be similar to her sister as she develops. Or not. And we may not know until it happens.

That said, she has undergone some tests that are grounds for hope. Her hearing and eyesight tests are normal. She was very alert the other day when I visited her and she seemed to look and respond to my face and voice. I also heard her cry to the first time, although it was a weak and half-assed attempt. Nothing like her sister's.

I want to thank all the readers of this blog for their positive comments and prayers. It means a lot to us that there are people thinking and praying for our daughter.

Climb Aboard Space Mountain

The last few days have been a bit of a roller coaster ride.

On Thursday, Jocelyn was transferred back to be with her sister and mom, and she appeared to be doing better. Unfortunately, during the night she had a number of seizures, requiring drugs to stop her from shaking and eventually necessitating her transfer back to the Royal Alex. This increases the risk that she may have some sort of brain damage.

Needless to say, I am a bit concerned. I am not sure what is going on long term, but I plan to discuss it with the docs. Her regular doc is not on this weekend, so I may have to wait until Tuesday to get some real answers.

On a more positive note, mom and Katherine should be coming home today. They are both doing really well and I should be happy about that. However, I cannot help but think of my other daughter, stuck in the hospital, attached to a bunch of tubes.

I am not very religious, but I have been praying.

Time to Buy a Shotgun

It's a Girls!

Jocelyn (4 pounds 13) and Katherine (5 pounds 3) were born yesterday at approximately 5:30 pm.

Mother and Katherine are doing fine. Unfortunately, Jocelyn had some respiratory distress, and had to be worked on. She is doing very well right now, but is breathing through a tube and has various lines and pipes going into her. Last night she was transferred to the Royal Alex, which can provide a better level of care. She seems to be doing well and, although not out of the woods yet, she is in great shape and provided things progress as expected, she might be able to come home within a week.

I am hoping she will show some improvement in the morning and we will have a better picture of what is going on.

Ollie Ollie Oxen Free

Still no babies.

Last week the doc said she was surprised that the wife was still pregnant. This week she was even more surprised. The doc will be gone on holiday for a week, so (Murphy's Law) the babies should be born in the next week. However, she jinxed it by saying she would be really surprised if the wife was still pregnant by the time she got back.

This is what I have been reduced to: Superstition.

I don't believe in that crap, but logic dictates these babies should be born by now. We are starting 38 weeks and 37 is term for twins. Everyone we know has had twins early, usually before 37 weeks.

Nothing to worry about, as they are perfectly healthy. No problems and the wife is doing fine. Better than fine, in fact. She has had no problems, even the usual ones such as high blood pressure. The doc is in no hurry to get them out, as inducing increases the risk of a C section. If we induced and had to get a C, we would always be wondering, "If we had just waited 6 more hours, they might have come out themselves."

So, I guess we should just enjoy the last few days of couplehood. Last night we went to dinner and saw a movie, thinking it might be the last time for a number of years.

Nothing to do but wait. If they are still in at 40 weeks, then I will begin to worry.

One good thing, the old wives tale says that if they are late, they are boys. Good for me, as I fear dealing with identical twin teenage girls.

Superstition. See what I have been reduced to.

T minus 10...9...8

I am thinking about live blogging the births.

OK, maybe not live blogging it. After all, this is Canada and with our second rate medical system, wireless internet linked up in all the operating rooms is not set up yet. However, I will jot down (that is so 20th century) the key events and post them up as soon as possible.

As for an update, she had another appointment with the doc on Wednesday. The doc was surprised she showed up, saying "I didn't expect you to still be pregnant." I guess that means we should expect them anytime. Here I am thinking we still have some time. Why is it that doctors cannot be direct. They think we know as much as them about the medical field. Just like when she told us they were identical. The comment about them "most likely" being identical was made as casually as you might ask someone to turn on a light. She may have known for a few weeks but it would be nice to get more than 3 seconds to come to terms with it before she moves on the the next thing.

Today's big job is setting up all the baby furniture. The room is still not finished, as we are waiting for an alphabet border to come in so I can put it up. However, based several factors, I think it is going to be this week. Comments by the doc (above), the fact that she is already slightly dialated, and her comments that the first one seems to have already dropped lower make me think it might be anytime. The breech one is moving a lot more than usual. The Wife thinks he/she is trying to get into position.

I am betting on Tuesday, but we will see what happens.

We still have not discussed names.

MCpl Arndt, RIP

I always find funerals difficult.

I went to the funeral of Master Corporal Arndt this week, in Edson, Alberta. It was held in the Legion in town and it was packed. We limited the military attendance, as we did not want to take up all the space and there will be a military memorial next week. I thought there would be about 400 people attending. The news put it at one thousand. I think they were right. The place was standing room only.

I am always of two minds at military funerals. On one hand, we all accept the risk when we join up that we may lose our life. Ray knew the risk and accepted it.

However, to sit there and hear how a person touched the lives of his friends and family, and to think that they will never feel the positive impact of that person makes me very sad. Death is difficult to accept, but especially so with someone who should have had so much time left.

I think one cannot really understand the sacrifice and pain on the family unless it happens to you.

Whether or not you agree with the sacrifice, I hope all Canadians can appreciate it.

How do you solve a problem like Jehovah?

We are having a little problem.

Jehovah's Witnesses have been visiting our house. Every Saturday, between 10 and 11 am, they show up without fail.

We live in a secluded area. Our house in hidden by 300m of trees. Our house coud be blown up and you could not tell from the main road.

Due to our seclusion, my first instinct when I hear a car coming up the driveway is to meet whomever it is with a shotgun in hand. We haven't got a dog yet (not sure if I want to deal with twins and a dog at the same time), but once we do, I will feel a bit more comfortable.

Don't get me wrong, we live in a nice area and have never had a break in or heard of one in the area. However, on 2 occasions, a car has driven up to the house, turned around and left. Both times I was not fast enough to confront them, but only caught a glimpse as they left.

I am a nice guy, so I do not want to be rude to the Jehovahs. They are really nice people and are very earnest in their beliefs. However, I already have one religion I am not practicing, and if I felt a need for religion, I would become a more active Catholic and not convert.

I like to argue and explore new ideas, and I actually enjoy hearing their view of the world. However, I am afriad I am being a tease. If you engage these people, they will keep coming back. I do not want to lead them on, thinking I am serious about a religion I consider to be just this side of a cult.

Last week the wife and I hid from them. I dislike people coming to my home uninvited to sell me something. This week, they saw me watching tv, so I answered the door. A man should not be a prisoner in his own home.

I enjoy my weekend, I do not want each one interupted by someone trying to sell me something. We left the city to get more privacy.

The wife has some relatives that are Jehovahs, so we are pretty sure it is not for us.

The question is, how do we let them know that they are wasting their time without being rude?

One View From the Front (part 2)

Part 1 is here

Day three was uneventful for C Coy. and we prepared to go back to our FOB. Which would have been good because I had come down with a cold… not what I needed in combat (umm, I mean state of armed conflict!) Unfortunately that was not to be. A British Company from 3 Para had been isolated and surrounded by Taliban in the Helmand Province in the Sangin District Center. They were running out of food and were down to boiling river water. They had tried to air drop supplies but they ended up landing in a Taliban stronghold (thank you air force). C Coy. was tasked to conduct an immediate emergency resupply with our LAVs. We headed off to what can only be described as the Wild West. The Company (B Coy) of the Paras that was holding the District Center had lost four soldiers there and was being attacked 3 to 5 times a day. We rolled in there after a long and painful road move across the desert. When we arrived in Sangin the locals began throwing rocks and anything they could at us, this was not a friendly place. We pushed into the District Center, and during the last few hundred meters we began receiving mortar fire. They never taught me on my LAV Crew Commander course how to command a vehicle with all the hatches closed using periscopes in an urban environment. I truly did it by sense of touch, meaning as we hit the wall to the left I would tell the driver to turn a little right!! We resupplied the Brits and unfortunately it turned dark and we couldn’t get out of there, so we had to spend the night. We were attacked with small arms RPGs and mortars three times that night, I still can’t believe that the Brits have spent over a month living there under those conditions. They are a proud unit and they were grateful but embarrassed that we had to come save the day. And as good Canadians we didn’t let them hear the end of being rescued by a bunch of colonials!!

We left Sangin again thinking we were headed home. We made it about 40km before we were called back to reinforce the District Center and help secure a helicopter landing site. As we sat there we received orders that we were now cut to the control of 3 Para for their upcoming operation north of Sangin. This was turning out to be the longest three day operation ever!!! Enroute we were engaged by an 82mm mortar from across a valley. I engaged them with our artillery, it felt a lot more like shooting in Shilo as they were 2.8km away as opposed to the 100m or less my previous engagements had been. We went round for round with them in what Rob, the Troop Commander firing the guns for us, called an indirect fire duel. In the end he said the score was Andrew 1 Taliban O and there is no worry of that mortar ever firing again. We rode all through the night (with my LAV on a flat tire) and arrived right as the Paras Air Assaulted onto the objective with Chinook helicopters. There were helicopters everywhere. It was a hot landing zone and they took intense fire until we arrived with LAVs, and the enemy ran away. It was a different operation as we were used to a lot more intimate support tanks to shoot the Paras in. It was impressive to watch them though, they are unbelievable soldiers.

We left the operation about 25 hours later (still3 going on no sleep) and thought that for sure we were now done this “three day op”. But as we were withdrawing to secure the landing zone for the Brits (under fire from 107mm rockets and 82mm mortars) we received Frag orders to conduct a sensitive sight exploitation where the Division had just dropped two 1000lbs bombs. Good old C Coy. leading the charge again!

We drove to the sight and saw nothing but women and children fleeing the town. I thought, “here we go again.” Luckily this time I found a good position for observation with my LAV and did not have to go in on the attack. The Company quickly came under attack from what was later estimated as 100+ fighters. For about 15 minutes we lost communications with the Company Commander and a whole Section of infantry as they were basically overrun. The Section had last been seen going into a ditch that was subsequently hit with a volley of about 15 RPGs; I thought we had lost them all. I had Brit Apaches check in and they did an absolutely brilliant job at repelling the enemy. The only problem was I couldn’t understand a word the pilot was saying because of his accent! Luckily I had the Brit Liaison Officer riding in the back of my LAV. I ended up using him (a Major) as a very highly paid interpreter to help me out. After about an hour long fight the Company broke contact (but lived up to the nickname the soldiers had given us, “Contact C”) and we leveled several compounds with artillery. Somehow we escaped without a scratch, truly amazing.

We were again ordered back to the Sangin District Center with 3 Para and spent the next few days fighting with the Paras. For four days I did not get a chance to take off my Frag vest, helmet or change my socks, etc. We were attacked 2-3 times a day, and always repelled them decisively. I also discovered during this period that exchanging rations with the Brits is a really bad idea. Not only were they stuck in this miserable place but their food was absolutely horrible!

After saying our good byes to our Brit comrades (the enemy learnt their lesson and finally stopped attacking the place), we again prepared to go back home. Alas, it was not to be again. We were ordered South to take back to towns that the Taliban had just taken. Luckily this time after 11 straight days in contact, C Coy. was the Battle Group reserve. We headed to the British Provincial Reconstruction team (PRT). We rolled into the town to the strangest arrival yet. This was coalition country. The locals (unlike Kandahar and even more so in Sangin) were excited and happy to see us. We had kids offering us candy and water instead of begging. There were no Burkhas. The women were in colorful gowns with their faces exposed. The town was booming with shops everywhere and industry flourishing. We went to the PRT and it didn’t even seem real. I took off my helmet, Flak vest and I had a shower and changed my clothes for the first time in two weeks. I ate a huge fresh meal (until my stomach hurt), and then went and sat on the edge of a water fountain in garden and watched a beach volleyball game between the Brits and Estonians. I laughed as I had supper and watched the BBC (British Broadcasting Company) which was reporting that we had taken back the towns, but H Hour was still 2 hours away, so much for the element of surprise. After what we had been through it was hard to believe this place was in the same country. I slept that night (still on the ground beside my LAV because they did not have enough rooms) better than I think I have before in my life. The next couple of days were quiet for us as they did not need to commit us as the reserve. On day 14 of our 3 day op we conducted the 10 hour road move back to KAF, literally limping back as our cars were so beat up (mine was in the best shape in the entire Company and we had a broken differential … again).

Things look like they will be quieter for us now, and I will be home soon. Sad news from the home front, our little Yorkie, Howitzer, was in an accident the other day and didn’t make it. It won’t be the same going home without him, he truly was one of our kids (furkids!). We had three great years with him though and my only regret is that I wasn’t there to comfort Julianne who has been through so much lately. But she has some great friends there who have looked after her. To those of you who have been with her through this and the events of the last few months, I am forever indebted to you.

There are more stories I could tell of these last two weeks but this email has become long enough as it is and if I did that I would have no war stories (I mean state of armed conflict stories) to tell you when I get home. I will end by saying that I have truly enjoyed this experience. Combat is the ultimate test of an officer, and on several occasions I did things that I didn’t know I was capable of. I am so proud of my crew and the entire Company Group, we soldiered hard and long and showed the enemy that messing with Canadians is a really bad idea. We accomplished something in the last two weeks that Canadian soldiers have not done since Korea. The Afghan Government, elected by the Afghans, requested our assistance and we were able to help. We were the equal, if not superior of our allies in everything we did. I hope that I gave you all an appreciation of what these young brave men and women are doing over here, and even if the media can’t find the time or effort to report what we are doing and the difference we are making, hopefully you can pass it on. I will see all of you real soon. I hope all is well with all of you, and please keep the emails coming, I read every one and enjoy hearing from you, even if I cannot respond individually.

Take Care
Andrew

One View From the Front

The following is a email making the rounds in the military community. It was sent by a guy serving in Afstan. I have no reason to think it is not true. I do not know the person who sent it and I post it with the implied permission granted at the end of the email.

Update: I am now certain that this email is authentic.

I have split the email into 2 parts

Part 1

BATTLE OF PANJAWAI AND BEYOND

Hey everybody! First off I apologize for the length of this email, as it contains two weeks worth of Afghanistan fun. I am doing well and brutally honest I have enjoyed this last couple of weeks. Seven years of training culminating in 14 action packed days. At first I wasn’t going to write a lot of detail about what happened, because some people might find it upsetting. However, when I got back to Kandahar Air Field (KAF) and read the deplorable media coverage that the largest operation Canadians have been involved in since Korea, I really felt I had to write it all down, to give you all (and hopefully everyone you talk to back in Canada) an appreciation for what we are really doing here in this “state of armed conflict” (lawyers say we can’t use the word “war”, I don’t know what the difference is except for it being far more politically correct.)

We received word while down at our Forward Operating Base (FOB) that we were going to be part of a full out three day (HA HA) Battle Group operation. This was going to be the largest operation Canada had undertaken since the Korean War. When we arrived back in KAF for orders we found out that we were rolling for Pashmul in the Panjawai District of Kandahar province. That was hard for my crew to hear, as that was the same town where Nichola had died and where Bombadier Chris Gauthier (a signaler in the party before I arrived) had been injured in an ambush. Participating in this attack were A, B and C Company (Coy.) Groups, both troops of artillery from A Battery, an Engineer squadron, two Companies of Afghan National Army (plus all of their attached American Embedded Training Teams – ETT), as well as a huge lineup of American and British Fixed and Rotary wing aircraft. Additionally, we had elements of the 2/87 US Infantry and 3 Para from the UK conducting blocks to prevent the enemy from escaping. From an Artillery perspective beyond the two gun troops (each equipped with 2 x155mm Howitzers and 4 x 81mm mortars) we had three Forward Observation Officers (FOO) and their parties as well as the Battery Commander and his party going in on the attack.

On the night of the 7th around 2200 hrs local C Company Group (with yours truly attached as their FOO) rolled for Pashmul. As we arrived closer to the objective area we saw the women and children pouring out of the town… not a good sign. We pushed on and about 3 km from our intended Line of Departure to start the operation we were ambushed by Taliban fighters. At around 0030hrs I had my head out of the turret crew commanding my LAV with my night vision monocular on. Two RPG rounds thundered into the ground about 75m from my LAV. For about half a second I stared at them and thought, “huh, so that’s what an RPG looks like.” The sound of AK 7.62mm fire cracking all around the convoy snapped me back to reality and I quickly got down in the turret and we immediately began scanning for the enemy. They were on both sides of us adding to the “fog of war”. We eventually figured out where all of our friendlies were, and where to begin engaging. We let off about 20 rounds of Frangible 25mm from our cannon at guys about a 100m away before we got a major jam in our link ejection chute. We went to our 7.62 coax machine gun, and fired one round before it too jammed!! Boy was I pissed off. I went to jump up on the pintol mounted machine gun, but as I stuck my head out of the LAV I realized the bad guys were still shooting at us and that the Canadian Engineers were firing High Explosive Incendiary 25mm rounds from their cannon right over our front deck. I quickly popped back down realizing that was probably one of the stupider ideas I have ever had in my life J Eventually after much cursing and beating the crap out of the link ejection chute with any blunt instrument we could find in the turret, we were back in the game. The first Troops in Contact (TIC) lasted about two hours. The radio nets were busier than I had ever heard before and we realized that A and B Coys. as well as Reconnaissance Platoon had all been hit simultaneously, showing a degree of coordination not seen before in Afghanistan. The feeling amongst the Company was that was probably it, as the enemy usually just conducted hit and run attacks. Boy, were we wrong! We continued to roll towards our Line of Departure and not five minutes later as we rolled around a corner, I saw B Coy. on our left flank get hit with a volley of about 20 RPGs all bursting in the air over the LAVs. It was an unreal scene to describe. There was no doubt now that we were in a big fight.

We pushed into the town following the Company Commander behind the lead Platoon. This was not LAV friendly country. The entire area was covered in Grape fields, which due to the way they grow them are not passable to LAVs, and acres of Marijuana fields which due to irrigation caused the LAVs to get stuck. The streets were lined with mud compounds and mud walls just barely wide enough to get our cars through. After traveling about 300m our lead platoon came under attack from a grape drying hut in the middle of what can only be described as an urban built up area. The Company Commander then issued a quick set of frag orders and I was about to participate in my first ever Company attack. He signaled for me to dismount and follow him. It was an uncomfortable feeling dismounting from the turret, as the only way out is through the top of the turret. I was standing probably 15 feet high in the air with friendly and hostile rounds snapping and cracking in the air everywhere. Needless to say I got down quick. I went to the back of my LAV and banged on the door to signal we were dismounting. As the Master Bombardier opened the door he went pale as we were only 20m from where they had previously been ambushed and where Nich had died. Regardless, we soldiered on. We grabbed our radios and followed the Company Commander. We went into a compound that was actually the same one Howie Nelson had dropped a 1,000lb bomb on after the attack in May. We went up to a second story ledge on a mud wall, and the Company Commander pointed out a compound and said “can you hit that?” I lased the building and found out it was only 89m away. Back in Canada we never bring Artillery in much closer than a 1000m, so you can imagine what I was thinking. I sat down and did the math (those of you who know my mathematical skills are probably cringing right now!). I looked at him and said that in theory and mathematically we would be okay where we were, but I made him move one of the other Platoons back 150m. A funny story as I was doing the math, an American ETT Captain working with the ANA looked down at me and said “There are no ANA forward of us” I responded “Roger”, to which he said “good” fired three rounds and said “Got him”. I then realized that he had asked me a question and had not stated a fact (for some reason everyone seems to think that the FOO magically knows where all the friendlies are). Through all the gunfire I had missed the infliction in his voice. I looked at him and said, “Hey, I have no idea where your ANA are, you’re supposed to look after them!” Luckily it wasn’t a friendly he had shot at.

We started the Fire Mission with the first round landing about 350m from my position. The noise of Artillery whistling that close and exploding was almost deafening, the FOO course sure hadn’t prepared me for this! Master Bombardier and I debated the correction for a second and eventually agreed upon a Drop 200m, mostly because we needed to get rounds on that compound ASAP as we were taking heavy fire. The round came in and landed a bit left of the compound. We lased the impact and found out it was 105m from us. We gave a small correction and went into Fire For Effect with 50% Ground Burst and 50% Air Burst. The rounds came in 85m from us, right on the compound. Truly I did not appreciate the sheer frightening and awe-inspiring nature of proximity (the air burst rounds). I then had the worst moment of my military career as one of the Sections began shouting “Check Fire, Check Fire!” on the net, followed quickly by their Platoon Commander saying they had casualties and to prepare for a 9 Line (air medical evacuation request). It turned out the two events were unrelated but for a while I thought I had injured or even worse killed a Canadian. In actuality the Section that called Check Firing was actually the furthest of anyone in the Company from the shells and had panicked (which led to a lot of ribbing and jokes from their buddies afterwards who had all been closer). The 9 Line was for an ANA soldier who had been struck 5 minutes before. However unfortunate, I was definitely relieved to here all that.

Day one carried on with several more small skirmishes and me moving from compound to compound to set up Observation Posts (OPs), from which I could support the Company’s movement. I never thought that in my career I would literally be kicking in doors and leading a three man stack, clearing room after room to get to my OPs.

We ended the day, which had seen us in contact for 12 straight hours, by sleeping beside our vehicle in full battle rattle for about an hour with sand fleas biting us. They are the single most ignorant and annoying bug ever. The next morning started off with what seemed like a benign task. We were to clear the grape fields to the south of our objective area. Intelligence said there was nobody there and this would only take us a couple of hours. About an hour into the clearing operation we came under contact from a heavily fortified compound. Unfortunately we had a young fellow killed early in the engagement when the infantry tried to storm the compound. They met fierce resistance, far greater than expected. (I didn’t know the young soldier personally, but do recall thinking how fearless he was a week earlier when I saw him running around the Brit compound with a Portuguese flag right after England had lost in the World Cup. I was impressed by his peers and friends and how professionally they carried on after his death.) After the attempted storming of the compound, the Company Commander came to me and said “right, we tried that the old fashioned way, now I want you to level that compound.” As I was coming up with a plan for how I would do this, we had a call sign I had never heard before check in. It was Mobway 51. Ends up he was a Predator Unmanned Aerial Vehicle armed with a hellfire missile. I don’t know how he knew we needed help or what frequency we were using, and frankly I don’t care, he was a blessing. When the Company Commander asked me what the safety distance for a hellfire was I literally had to go to the reference manual I carry (J Fires Manual) because I had never seen one before and had no idea what it actually could do. I told him the safety distance was 100m. To which he asked how far we were from the compound – the laser said 82m. We debated the ballistic strength of the mud wall beside us and in the end he decided to risk it. Nothing like seeing an entire Company in the fetal position pressed up against a mud wall! The hellfire came in and it was the loudest thing I have ever heard. Three distinct noises: the missile firing, it coming over our heads and the boom. For about 30 seconds we couldn’t see anything but a cloud of dust. Then when the dust settled the Platoons started hooting and hollering. The compound barely even looked the same. (At this point our embedded journalist Christie Blanchford from the Globe and Mail had enough and left us, can’t blame her I guess.) The Company again tried to clear the compound but still met resistance. So we lobbed in 18 artillery shells 82m from us (even closer than the day before) and then brought in two Apache Attack Helicopters. On the second rocket attack (I actually have video of this) the pilot hit the target with his first rocket and the second one went long and landed just on the other side of the mud wall from us. It engulfed us in rocket exhaust, but thankfully no one was hurt. When the hellfire had gone off it had started a small building in the compound on fire and suddenly we started getting secondary explosions off of a weapons cache that was in it. Everything started exploding around us, and the two guys that had not listened to me to press up against the wall got hit with shrapnel, both in the legs. One was the Company Commander’s Signaler, a crazy Newf, who was cracking jokes even with shrapnel in his leg. The medic dealt with him and I went over to the American ETT Captain who was only a few feet from me and began doing first aid on him. He looked liked he was going into shock, until his American Sergeant came up behind me and said “Shit Sir, that’s barely worth wearing a Purple Heart for!” I was surprised how much first aid I actually remembered, and the only difficult part was trying to cut off his pant leg because American combats are designed not to tear, making them particularly difficult to cut! In the end we took the compound and captured a high level Taliban leader who was found by the infantry hiding in a sewage culvert, begging for the shelling to stop. As well, we found a major weapons cache, which the engineers took great delight in blowing up. Unfortunately the assault had cost us one killed, two wounded, a Section commander had blown his knee throwing a grenade and four guys had gone down to extreme heat exhaustion. We found out though that this was a Taliban and Al Qaeda hot bed and that they had been reinforced by Chechen and Tajik fighters (which I guess means we really got a chance to take on Al Qaeda and not just the Taliban).

Part 2 is here.

What's in a Name?

The wife and I have been fighting about names.

She saw an episode of Scrubs, where one of the surgeons and his wife, who is also a nurse, are pregnant. The couple talk about names and she agrees to tell him the name she likes only if he promises not to tell anyone. Of course he tells the other guy (JD) and he then goes on to name some hamster that name, thereby making it unuseable for their child.

I am sure the wife thinks I will do the same. Everyone has been bugging the wife to divulge her list of favorite names but she has refused to break, even to me. Anyone who knows the wife, knows that the more you ask her, the more stubborn she gets. I was able to get her to agree to give me her ideas if I shared mine.

This did not last for very long. As soon as I made a few suggestions, she quickly shot them down with statements such as, "No", "Absolutely not", "That's dumb", you get the picture. Now, I fully admit that some of mine were a bit silly, as when I thought the twins might be a boy and girl and suggested they be called Luke and Leia. (My mother thought this was a great idea. I had to explain the part about it being from a movie).

So I finally got fed up with my suggestions being treated so poorly, and said, "Fine. Tell me some of yours then." She refused.

What's up with that? I give my suggestions in (mostly) good faith and get nothing in return.

I know from experience that the wife will not give in, so I have refused to give any further suggestions until she makes one. She can hold out longer than I (this has been proved in other areas of our relationship) however, there are principles at stake.

Unfortunately, I have no other suggestions.

Therefore, I open the comments of this post for name suggestions.

A few points. We know the twins are identical, but do not know the sex, so male and female suggestions are appreiciated. However, no rhyming names, no names with the same initial or sound too much alike, and no unisex names (I hate that).

If I get some good suggestions, I may put up a poll.

Make a suggestion. Maybe you can claim you named my kids.

The Surprises Keep on Coming

Just when I thought we were done with these surprises, we get another one at the last appointment.

The doc is 95% certain that the twins are identical.

If you know doctors, I am sure she would not tell us that if she was not certain. 95% just gives her a bit of wiggle room, just in case.

I was surprised. Not as surprised as when we went from one to two.

Identical twins could be fun. I was hoping for fraternal and they would be one of each, mostly because I am afraid that I won't be able to tell them apart and people will think I am a bad parent.

We still do not know what sex they are. The wife wants it to be a surprise. Boys would be nice, but they can be a handful when growing up. I am worried about my ability to deal with teenage girls, particularly tow of then (and twins to boot).

I guess I have resigned myself to my fate. Whatever happens, my life is going to drastically change in a number of weeks.

No choice but to get used to it.