Back in the Fall, after over a year of issues with movement and pain in my foot, I finally went to see my foot specialist.

I wasn't keen on the idea. Last time we met, he had done a  minor procedure, shaving a bone growth off the arch of my foot. That sucked...but the MRSA I acquired after was a lot worse. It took months to get over it---and four separate courses of antibiotics. Add that to my my long, and unfortunate history with other kinds of surgery, and you could  call me gun shy. This time, instead of just pain, my foot was just locking up...no warning. When it happened I literally could not walk for several minutes...which went from being galling to occasionally dangerous. (How long can you stand on one foot?) But I was losing my ability to get around---and I need to be  mobile.

So...I saw the doc. He asked for tests---but he showed me the difference between my feet. The left was fine..normal looking.  The other...well...looked like a squid. My toes were sort of all over the place...something he attributed to tendon damage. The GOOD news (there was good news?) was that he had wonderful success with this new implant...it was a minor procedure...no PT after...and it would give the tendons a shot at healing. Otherwise, there was another surgery---much more complicated with a six month healing period. Hmmmm. I admit...I let myself be persuaded. I didn't want ANY surgery...but not walking didn't seem like a good option. They did it on Black Friday. And yes, it hurt like a bitch at first...but for five weeks after, it seemed to be improving. I could barely walk at all...trips to the bathroom were my big adventures. I couldn't drive. Then...it stopped getting better. And then it got worse.

Back to not being able to walk again.

Back to pain that woke me in the middle of the night...and prevented me from walking more than an hour a day.

(Hint...that's not much time. Keep track sometime...and you will be amazed at how much time you spend just trying to get from point a to b in your own home.)

The swelling made the doc unhappy. So did the weird coloration. More meds. We also started me on prednisone. The swelling went down...the pain lessened...but not if I stop taking the steroids, or even reduce them beyond a certain level. You can't stay on steroids for life.  Now what doc? We discussed removing the implant, but he doesn't really want to do that. He thought I may have developed a sensitivity to the metal.  (Titanium is pretty benign...but 4 percent of the population can't handle it.) He suggested I wait til May, to give my tendons the best chance to heal.  Then , last appointment, he said "Maybe we should send you for PT."

Um.

My insurance covers Physical therapy...but the co-pay is $50.00 a session.He suggested three sessions a week.

DOUBLE OUCH. Not in the budget.

He said it's called Compartment Syndrome...and that the surgery was in fact successful. Only...it may have caused CS as a result.

http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/001224.htm

Now this is where doctors and patients come to disagreements.

I went to him with two ideas in mind.

1. Fixing my foot so I could walk.

2. Getting rid of the pain.

That was my plan...my objective if you will.

He decided that the implant would help...and would save my tendon.

That was HIS plan. It seemed like we were on the same page, with the same goal.

Right up and until he said the surgery had been successful.

No offense doc...but it hurts to walk ALL the time now...and I can't do much at all.  So forgive me if your definition of success strikes me as different than mine. Intellectually, I understand that in your view, it did what it was supposed to...but since walking without pain was my objective...and we're not there...I see it differently. Then he said my only other option was Pain Control.  THAT was when I started to cry. See...Pain Control is a bad place to be. I've written about my not so thrilling experiences with that specialty. It's where they send you when they "can't help anymore". You are chronic...and they want you off the books. You bother them. You are not fixable. And he actually seemed ANGRY at me.

"You'd be a lot worse off if we hadn't fixed your tendon."

Probably true. And I wish that made some difference. But walking? Without Pain? THAT was the point.

I hate Doctors.

I know they are not bad, or evil people. I know most do their best...but too often I have been shipped to the Leper Colony known as MMI...Maximum Medical Improvement...and that is a shit place to be. It means that where is pain is concerned, you are THERE, spot marked X.  The pain experts will stick you with needles, spinal blocks, trigger point injections...a whole array of sharp options...none that work a damn for me. Then they talk about burning nerves---to block pain transmission. That doesn't work either. The doctors themselves are terrified of being considered Legal pushers---so they are reluctant to prescribe pain meds beyond a certain point. I went off them for three YEARS, just to show that I could...but that was a different injury.

And now...he wants to send me back to Crazy Town...so forgive me Doc...but I don't count this as a "success" at all.

Since I've become more active in Xanga, I've been reading blogs from people of all kinds, all ages---and it occurs to me that some of the Xangans are actually the kids of people of "my generation".  I fell between the cracks, like so many my age. Too young to be a Flower Child...too old to be a Yuppie (and frankly I never WANTED to be one of them), we truly were the "lost generation". We don't have a name. We don't even have an Era...we were there...but we don't often count in the books. I graduated high school in 1978...and went onto college.

Viet Nam had ended.

Nixon left office in disgrace.

We survived the "Energy Crisis", where you were only allowed to buy gas on every other day, odd or even, depending on what the number on your license plate was. They usually limited you to $3.00. And you had to wait in LONG lines to get that. Previous to that, gas had been insanely cheap...usually under 30 cents a gallon. My friends and I had  never known a Draft...and in most states, you were allowed to drink at 18. The Sex Revolution had started without us...but it was on by the time we hit college. And that is what I am writing about tonight. I'm not your  mom. I can't speak for her---or what she may have done in her youth. I didn't date your dad, and I don't know how he acted back then. But I know what I witnessed, and experienced myself. My friends and I had remarkably similar experiences...so I like to think it was the "time". I've talked to women my age from all over the country..and they tell me the same sorts of things I recall. That doesn't make me an "expert"...it just means that there is context to my recollections, that went beyond just my college, my state, or my region.

For all the blame I read that gets heaped on "feminism", there was a lot more happening back then that had nothing to do with "women's rights". The Playboy Mentality was strongly rooted by then. and the young men were interested in getting laid...period. "Relationships" were  too messy. Dating was old fashioned...and if you made it clear that you wanted to, they got skittish. The Guys at my college usually had one girl at home---their "steady", who never came to visit. She might have been their high school sweetheart...or just someone local they met later...but she was the "nice" girl they trotted out for the family. Thursdays were "PARTY" night. Friday, they were headed home.

A "party" back then was any event featuring music so loud it hurt your teeth, and copious amounts of alcohol...usually beer or something called garbage can punch. There might be weed, or other drugs...most intended to loosen up the crowd. This was before cocaine became the drug of choice for my generation. Anyone who had THAT sort of money didn't go to my college. I didn't understand the party scene. With music that loud, a conversation was out of the question.  You were supposed to "meet" people...but the guys usually didn't dance either.  So...no talking, no dancing. Drinking, loud music---and a contact high you got walking from one room to the next.  How the HELL were you supposed to "meet" anyone that way?

The point was...you weren't. You were supposed to decide if they were "cute"...and either take them home with you, or go home with them. Sex was expected. That pissed me off. I wasn't a cool chick, I guess...because I didn't feel comfortable with the idea of just sleeping with someone I didn't know. I wanted to date. I wanted to spend time with a person...exchange thoughts and ideas...not body fluids. Oh...and I didn't look like Farrah Fawcett. She was the reigning pin up Goddess---all teeth, wild blonde hair, and of course, nipples.  She was the standard we were held to...and  of course...NO ONE looked like that.  So...I spent a lot of time alone.  I had friends of course...but guys? Either they thought I was invisible---or they wanted one of my friends numbers.

A few homes truths from that period.

1. Guys wanted sex. They did not want to spend much time getting it---and if you made them "work" for it (Say...actually talking to you) you were a BITCH.

2. They expected the girls to take care of the birth control. No matter how weird they wanted to get in bed, you were NEVER to mention contraception...not THEIR problem. They would get all prissy if you mentioned condoms. (This was before AIDS, and most of today's STD's.) It's like taking a shower in a raincoat! they would say.

3. Since the objective was getting laid (theirs anyway) you needed to understand that you were NOT spending the night. Most seemed to prefer going the girl's place...so they could leave. They also could make sure you didn't know where they lived...and didn't have to give you a phone number after.  BONUS!

4. Once sex was done...they were gone. No afterglow, no conversation, no cup of coffee...just OUT OF THERE.

5. Having sex did not mean they liked you.  For some, it didn't even qualify as an introduction---because they forgot your name as quickly as possible.

Now before the guys decide I am male bashing, I'll give the female side. This wasn't stuff I did...but I watched it done often enough.

1. Girls used guys for free drinks.  My friends would go to bars absolutely broke---and drink free all night. Their logic was that no one told them they would sleep with anyone...and if you assumed that, you were an idiot.

2. Guys also usually had grass...which they often shared in hopes of scoring.  (Same logic as above.)

3. Girls occasionally also wanted uncomplicated sex...but they didn't want to mess around with diaphragms, and crap like that. If a buy knew you were the pill, he would assume you were a slut...and that scoring was a done deal. So it was easier to NOT have contraception...which also gave you the excuse to not have sex.

4. Meeting a guy you could date was their objective...but since that was a rare thing, they killed time at parties, and generally wandered around after too much booze until they either got home, or threw up on someone's stuff.

5. If you did sleep with a guy, you knew better than to expect him to treat you nicely afterward. It was some screwed up, unwritten rule...they had to be a jerk, or they lost points. A guy who stayed the night and bought you coffee the next morning was a KEEPER.

Now I'm sure there were people who didn't act this way. But I never met many of them. The pickings were so slim in college, that I took to dating older guys---mid 20's---because they treated you like a PERSON...not a piece of meat. People my age don't talk about that time...most have kids the same age now that we were then. Some believe that if they admit to failings, mistakes, or just being human, their kids will take it as permission to screw up. I have not yet met a single kid who had sex because their parents did...so I think that's sort of stupid.

And no...I wasn't perfect. I was a romantic sort of girl. A poet...and i was in love with love.

There probably couldn't have been a worse time for someone like me to live...but that is where I was.

I did not sleep around. When I did have sex, i took care of the birth control, because I was the one who was going to have the problem if I turned up pregnant. I worried for a long time that the problem was in me...that I was somehow deficient, in whatever qualities it was that attracted guys.  I got my answer years later...when I hit about 35. By then, I had met the man I would marry. We were together six years, before we took the big step. We were married three when I became pregnant---one of the most carefully planned things I ever did my life. I believed then, as I do now, that having a child is a huge commitment---not to be undertaken lightly.

But when I was 35, I got active in my local community. I was elected to a huge community board, and helped run it. I had to deal with politicos, and reporters, and all kinds of people. And not long after, the invisibility cloak I'd worn most of my life just went AWAY. All of a sudden, I was found myself the center of conversations---usually with men. Suddenly, they listened to me...and actually...well...seemed to like me.  God---that was weird. I was being flirted with, but didn't know it.  (And no...that wasn't the deal in college) All the things that held me back when I was 20 were suddenly WONDERFUL things to have. I was articulate, well read, thoughtful...and most of the time, funny.

By the time I was 40, I had gotten used to it. I can't say I was ever comfortable with my new role...but I did get used to it. And I have run into women I knew "back in the day". Some have not changed at all. They also didn't grow...at all. What seemed cute in the early 80's seems sort of desperate now. I never put my stock in the whole "gotta get a guy" game...so I did my own thing. I feel bad for the "hotties" of yesterday. For most of them, 35 or even 40 was the end of it. There's too much out there that's younger, firmer, and cuter now...and if that was all they had going, they're done.

The college guys of yesterday are pretty sad too. They were all about the party, the pot, and poo-nanny...and now they are pretty much boring as bat shit. Most of us had kids...but they are TERRIFIED of becoming grandparents. They lied to their kids about what they did in school, and how they lived...and now they are  scared  to death of aging. The College Studs treated women like shit...and now have daughters.  The College Chicks are mothers, viewing every girl their sons date with narrow eyes...remembering how they were.  So treat your parents well kids...they have secrets they can't share. Some forgot. Some will lie...but that was how it was in the Disco Days...and reading the blogs around here, I'm not sure a whole lot has changed.

Namaste.

A Christmas about 6 years back...

My daughter and her Grandfather...She is nearly 21...he is over 80...and she is the joy of his days...

http://factchecked.org/2012/debate-check/paul-v-gingrich-on-military-service/

When you're Ron Paul,. apparently.

Now this slate of candidates is VERY shy on military service all round.
To my knowledge, NONE of them ever served.
But one of them is saying that he served when "called".
Ummmm....no...he didn't.
But damn he sounds sanctimonious when he says it!

I HATE political ads...they were too often an obvious attempt to sway voters using fear, paranoia, or simply mud flung at high velocity...but this one I loved...

http://www.flackcheck.org/lincoln-campaign/the-cost-of-lincolns-war/

There are three others on the same page...check it out!

Why are the people most likely to say "Oh that's water under the bridge"...or "Blood is thicker than water" also the ones most likely to make you wish you were an orphan?

My family has one of those.

They screw up.
They lie.
They even steal...from FAMILY.
But then it's all supposed to be forgotten...because "Blood is thicker than water."

My daughter Desiree is an extraordinary young woman.

   Yes, I know...all parents are proud of their kids...but she has overcome a number of unique challenges, and come out of it as a truly wonderful human being. I take no credit. I am her mom...but all I did was make sure she had the chance to prove her herself. The drive, the courage, the ambition? All that came from her.  I wish I could say I DID mother her more. I wish I could say I pushed a little. But there was never any need to.

     When she was ten, she was classified as "special needs". Her issue, known as dyspraxia, and dysgraphia were virtually unknown in the US back then. They are called "hidden handicaps", because they manifest much later than most issues. We were very lucky, and very blessed. Hers were minor. But that did not keep her from being ignored by her teachers, when she hit stumbling blocks---or abused my her classmates when they needed someone to pick on. The children who didn't participate in the abuse shied away from her...to avoid being targeted themselves.

      As a result, for 18 months, my daughter, always so calm and happy became utterly silent. Her early friends never came to visit. No one invited her to parties. The bullies called her "cootie girl"...and since it was all done out of direct sight of teachers or adults, Desi was left alone...utterly. I had to help my daughter. And yes, I became an expert in Dyspraxia, and how it effected children. I forced the school district to do an out placement, where she could be in a safe environment.  I went through four neurological teams, looking for answers. But the only really important thing I can say i actually did was to become her friend.

        I've read articles since that talk about the dangers of being friends with your child. They talk about "appropriate  boundries " and the dangers of becoming too close. They mention the blurring of the lines between parent and child. All very well and good. But they don't talk about how you're supposed to cope with a lonely kid, who has been isolated, and brutalized. They don't have any great suggestions about getting your child to smile....when their school became a hostile, and dangerous place for them.  I admit...I didn't have a plan for that.

        But I had this amazing young girl...who was smart, kind, and clever. She loved to read, and was a quick study on almost anything you could imagine. So, without intending to...I became her best friend.  We went to places together. We read the same books...listened to music. We talked.  And I'm pretty sure no mom ever enjoyed her kid's company quite as much. Somewhere along the way, I did know we were closer than most. For a while, I was all she had...so I had to make sure she could trust me...with anything. I wasn't one of those insane "matching outfit mothers", trying to hold onto my youth, by latching onto my daughter's. I was just her mom...and I was not about to let her have no one...because I was too uncertain of my "role" as her parent.

         Once Desi left the district, she bloomed, and blossomed. The teachers at her first school adored her. She was "high function". They took amazing care of all the kids...but some of the others had serious issues. They would only go so far...but Desi? Once she felt safe, she tore through the schoolwork. When she started at High Road (now known as New Road) she had a three year academic deficit, in almost every subject. She corrected every one of them in about six months. She got through her grade school, and graduated at the top of her class. She was asked to give a graduation speech---which for a child with speech issues was a huge thing. And then she went onto a different school for high school...and graduated as a National Honor Society scholar, with advance credits from Seton Hall University.

           Get the picture? Scary smart...my daughter. In high school, she lost a lot of the shy that had been beaten into her. She had a posse of friends---many of whom she still maintains. She was a gamer, a writer---and eventually a stand up comic. She began writing a novel in high school that she is still fine tuning---but it would not shock me  if it gets published some day. Yes...she had friends, but they were not your "usual" high school kids. Almost none of them lived around here...so Mom's Taxi had to roll, to get them from point A, to Point B. My friends thought it was a huge pain in the ass...all that driving. I didn't.  I got to spend time with my daughter, and to get to know her friends.

            If you've been reading my blog, you may have noticed that I am not a "usual" mom. Desi grew up with Mom, the writer...who might bake cookies---but also would spend hours with poetry, and essays. When my book was published in 2005,  she was in high school.  She'd already done so much...overcoming so many things. It made perfect sense to dedicate my book to her.  When I told her, she was stunned. Very cool I guess...having a book dedicated to you before you can drive. Desi's friends came to like and trust me. I was honored when they talked to me about things...their lives.

            It was never about being a "cool mom". It was never about horning in on the fun. It was just about being what Desi needed me to be,. I wish I could say I planned it all....that I knew she would be OK if i did  a, b and c...but that's not true. I couldn't just do nothing...so...I did everything. When she started going to Anime conventions with her friends, I found out the other parents went shopping---had lunch...hit the movies. But I was interested...and Desi and her friends were speaking a language I didn't understand. Geek talk. Gamer Lingo. So...I went to the cons with them...and went IN. 

             I was awful at video games...so I watched the kids play sometimes. And because I am a smart ass, I would comment on the art---the music...the themes. the kids would SCREAM laughter. I took Desi and two of her friends to Otakon for her graduation present from high school.  Four DAYS of gaming, and co-play at the Baltimore Harbor. Epic...absolutely epic. And then she was in college.  She went to a community college to start---not because of her grades...they were amazing. But because she qualified for the NJ Star's Scholarship...and it went a lot further at a community college.

            She finished her AA in December.  In the mean time we discovered Salem State University...which she fell in love with. I knew she was ready for a 4 year school . I knew she was ready to go away...and more importantly...I knew she needed to BE away...from me.  Not because I loved her too much...but because we learn the final stages of being ourselves, all by ourselves. Desi needed to be on her own...to figure out who she will be someday. And that is something she can only do from a distance.

            We talk every day...more of less. We Skype. And it's been six weeks since I could hug my daughter. I am so proud of her...for everything she taught herself to do. And I will never be able to tell her how much it meant to me...that she could let anyone be close to her, after the let downs she had known.  I am my daughter's friend, and her mom, and I make no apology for it.  I miss her...but oh...how wonderful it is, what she's been able to accomplish on her own. She will do it her own way...and in her own time.

             And me? I learned the thing a parent MUST. Our only real job is making ourselves obsolete.  When our children get a shot at the life they want, when they are ready to go for it, all by themselves? Well...that was what we were supposed to do. The experts and shrinks will tell you I did it all wrong.  Desi's taking another psychology course this semester. She got in trouble for arguing with her prof about the "correct parameters" for parent and child.  Desi's opinion? "Better a little over loved...then not loved enough.".

              I'll take that.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/07/glenn-grothman-unplanned-pregnancies_n_1327940.html

I had commented on this piece, rather annoyed that the politician in question has never heard of "birth control failure", and received this reply...which was then deleted by HP...for obvious reasons.

firstorion1 you liar! what has that got to do with horing around?? stop these parasites riding the working worlds backs like a harpy hore, and get a life, and stop being a hore, or else. be a hore, be called a hore, dummy! get A REAL MAN who wants to stay with you, or go to hell alone, and starve.

posted Mar 7, 2012 at 21

Now where should I begin?

Dear Asshole,

                      Someone should teach you manners---and possibly  some grammar and spelling.  It is rude to call someone a liar, simply because you disagree with them.  It's worse to call them a "whore", when you can't seem to SPELL the word.

1. I am not a whore.
2. I never have been a whore.
3. I thank God for the internet...because it means I never had the displeasure of meeting you.
4. When I require personal advice on how to live my life, rest assured, you will not be asked.
5. In the future, it would be wise not to post online when you have obviously been drinking.
6. Please print out the post, fold it up till it's all sharp corners and STUFF it up your ass.

                        And do have a nice night!

For some people, the Duggars reality show is their first awareness of an anti-feminist, pro-patriarchal fundamentalist group more widely known as "Quiverful". One of their basic tenants is that birth control is evil, and unnatural, that sex is meant to be for reproduction, and that to do anything but accept "god's will" in the matter is an aberration, and a sin. They emphasize the "submission" of wives to their husband's will in all things...but particularly in the matter of children. Women who accept this life usually do not work outside the home, home school. and produce child after child...even if to do so puts their lives at risk. I've heard people defend it, saying that there is nothing wrong with it. These are just people will a different belief system.

But before the Duggars, there was another family that was featured in the Media, for very different reasons...also from the Quiverful movement. Andrea Yates made headlines in June of 2001, when she drowned her five children, aged between six months (an infant) and seven years in a fit of  postpartum psychosis and depression. Between her marriage to Russell Yates in 1993, and the death of her children, she'd been pregnant 7 times. In the same time period, she had attempted suicide at least twice, suffered a nervous breakdown, been institutionalized, and repeated tried to mutilate herself. She miscarried twice---which added to her obsession that she had "polluted" her children with Satan.

Her husband had been warned repeatedly that pregnancy would only make her fragile mental condition worse...a warning he chose to disregard. Andrea was bullied on a daily basis, for "failing" in her role as a good christian wife and mother. Her husband wanted her to breast feed, so he insisted she stop taking the medications that briefly controlled her psychosis. He had been told repeatedly to not leave her alone with children. Later, both Yate's psychiatrist and husband insisted that they had not known she would harm the children.  Russell accused the doctor of malpractice, but he was LIVING with her, and ignored the obvious.

Russell believed that his wife could fix herself, by simply praying, and accepting Jesus more fully in her heart. I found myself horrified when I read the various accounts of this story. WHAT was he thinking? The man had been a NASA engineer. He was not lacking in intelligence. But Quiverful thinking doesn't allow for mental illness. It doesn't take into account that a woman who was half insane from too much stress, and too many pregnancies is going to breakdown.

When I first heard of Andrea, and what she had done, I wanted them to fry her. She had lived in Texas, where they take a dim view on killing...and i was stunned when she was "only" sentenced to a 40 year term in prison. But I was not aware of the details of the case...or the particulars. I had avoided reading about it---ignored the broadcasts after the killings, and during the trial. All I knew was that five children were dead by their own mother's hand. Her oldest son was only three years younger than Desi...and it just angered me deeply. I wondered why she had  so many kids---why she just didn't stop. It never occured to me that her husband was present as she struggled with her insanity...and ignored the dangers, not only to his wife, but to his family.

After Andrea was convicted and sentenced, he was quick to abandon her, divorcing her so he could re-marry. He had claimed he would stand by her always---but also blamed her personally, without any recognition of the role he had played in the family's tragedy.

http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,218445-1,00.html  A detailed piece about the first Yates trial.

But back then, I knew nothing about the Quiverful Movement.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quiverfull

This Wiki link is a good place to start. But Quiverful has other aspects.

http://www.rhrealitycheck.org/article/2011/11/02/corpses-dont-rebel-former-quiverfull-mom-reacts-to-death-of-hana-williams-by-biblical-chastisement

Their adherents also embrace the concept of "Biblical chastisement". which not only allows, but encourages the painful abuse of children whenever the "disobey" their parents. Babies as young as three months are "lovingly disciplined", until they understand what is expected of them by their parents...and God.  Vickie Garrison, a former Quiverful adherent now keeps a blog called No Longer Quivering about not only her experiences, but any that come up in the news. Her piece on the death of Hana Willliams, who was beaten to death by her parents is difficult to read, but compelling. Here is a woman who lived that life, embraced those ideals---and somehow had the strength to walk away from it.  She could have done so in silence...but feels compelled to share her experiences...and has a perspective  you will not see on the Duggars.

The other day I came across a post from a young woman, newly pregnant, and clearly nervous. She was talking about her fears...and the responsibility of being not just a first time mother...but wondering if she had the right stuff to be a Quiverful oriented parent. I found her words heartbreaking. She used the right buzz words...but expressed fear about being able to  do what it took to meet the commitments to her child, her husband, her God...and everything else.  I wondered if they could have been Andrea Yates words, two decades ago.

I wondered if her young husband will keep on eye on his wife...and not be so caught up in pride, that if she needs something beyond their religion,  he will acknowledge it.

I wondered if she had any sort of support group...beyond people telling her that birth control was just the devil trying to cheat God of children.

I wondered if she would be the next mortal, to buckle under unreasonable, and unreasoning expectations. 

All this has a personal note for me. I know a woman who lived this life. Her husband was the one who was mentally ill. She did not learn this til after they married...and even with that knowledge, she was told that it was God's Will that she "obey" her husband. He too, attempted to mutilate himself...and she was told to pray harder...and accept his dominance as a "good wife". It's one thing to read about this sort of thing in the news...quite another to meet or know someone who barely survived it.

I am wary of fundamentalist groups of all stripes.

I get uncomfortable when people try to put "God's Will" on something dark, and inexplicable. Andrea Yates conviction was overturned. She is still in custody...and will probably spend the rest of her life in a facility for the criminally insane. When I knew the details of her story, I stopped hating her for what she had done. She was not a modern day Medea...she was a deeply troubled, mentally unstable woman who desperately needed help...but was denied it because her husband disagreed with it.

He was very defensive of his role in the whole nightmare, and claimed he was simply living his life as he was "meant to". But I can't help but wonder what sort of man has sex with a woman he KNEW should not have more babies, within days of her being released from an involuntary commitment, knowing she was no longer taking the medication that kept her from falling apart. How did he "rise" to that occasion? I guess it doesn't matter much. He did. And his five children died as a result of his criminal selfishness, and depraved disregard for their greater good.

That just doesn't sound very "christian" to me.

Namaste.