Court rules nurses MUST assist in abortions to keep their jobs. Grimmark fined $150k

“As a midwife, I want to exercise a profession which defends life and saves lives at all cost. Are healthcare practitioners in Sweden to be forced to take part in procedures that extinguish life, at its beginning or final stages? Somebody has to take the little children’s side, somebody has to fight for their right to life. A midwife described to me how she had held an aborted baby in her arms, still alive, and cried desperately for an hour while the baby struggled to breathe. These children do not even have a right to pain relief. I cannot take part in this.”

Road Porn

One of the favorite songs I’ve ever written, “So Be Glad” has been featured over at Road Porn. If you’re unfamiliar, and you probably are—there is a whole collection of sped up road trip footage from around the country (world?) that is put to music. The artist, Lucas Papaelias has taste in music that I can vouch for. Perfect for parties or any other occasion you’d like some ambient music and visuals.

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Rather than plugging holes in a sinking ship, let’s learn to float.

As a subscriber to Wendy Kramer’s Donor Sibling Registry blog (which I really like—I think Wendy does great work), I recently came across her most recent post about major discrepancies in egg donor reporting—describing the egregious way in which egg banks and fertility clinics underreport OHSS (Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome) as well as infertility after egg donation and other serious health consequences resulting from egg harvesting. Agencies report about a 1% risk of OHSS, but the real number appears to be closer to 30% (I myself experienced OHSS when I sold my eggs). And it appears at least 9.6% of donors become infertile after the procedure.

People who are invested in keeping third party reproduction legal often tout regulation as the solution to all of the annoying health and psychological risks/consequences that arise from these procedures. For egg donors it might be we need to lower the dosages. For surrogates they say we need to properly screen them. For sperm donors we just need to limit the number of offspring and make sure we do genetic testing to prevent the spread of inheritable diseases. And so on and so forth.

When a generation emerged and complained about being lied to about their status as donor-conceived, the authorities said we just need to be open and honest with our kids and tell them the truth from the beginning. Then those of us (like me) who were told from the very beginning still grew up and complained loudly that anonymity is despicable—we deserve to know the identities of our biological parents. And so now the authorities are saying OK as long as you choose an open ID donor you’ll be fine. And we are starting to see the complications, the custody battles, legal battles, the pure chaos of those “solutions” now too.

Everyone is trying to find an artificial, legalistic, technological solution to the long list of problems that come along with third party reproduction and alternative families in all their forms. But they are plugging holes on a sinking ship. The ship was our understanding of love and sex as God and nature intended. The bomb that blew up the ship was the Sexual Revolution.

The solution to OHSS and premature infertility from egg harvesting is not more regulation. It is the abolishment of the egg trade and third party reproduction in general. The solution is encouraging women to get married and have kids when they’re 25, and get their PhD’s at 40, rather than the other way around. The solution is to financially incentivize actual cures to infertility rather than allowing a marketplace in pre-born children. The solution is for us all to learn how to cooperate with nature again, rather than try to dominate it.

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The House The Hope

We have a house under contract. It is downtown. It is a fixer-upper.

A pious Catholic woman, a regular latin mass attendee, died of old age and now her home needs new occupants. Our realtor informed of us of the property before it even went to market. We walked into the cluttered 3 bedroom 2 bath decadent with both dust and old Catholic artifacts, including over 100 rosaries, statues, and paintings of Jesus and Mary. A baby grand piano welcomes visitors in the front parlor room—although it is devastatingly out of tune.

The property needs a new foundation, new electrical work, new appliances, new kitchen cabinets, a new heating and cooling system, new flooring, new gas pipes, new sinks, and a whole lot of paint.

Banks won’t do conventional loans on crappy houses like the one we’re determined to buy. They only want to lend money for “average or better” properties—whatever that means. So for fixer uppers of a profound nature one must either pay all cash or do what we’re doing: a 203(k) loan.

Our loan is very rare—because its a pain in the bunz.

We have to do two miles of paperwork. Then we have to get bids from a contractor. Then we have to pay a HUD consultant mega bucks to mediate. Then we have to have to wait. Then we have to do more paperwork. Then we have to convince our contractor to finance all his own work. Then he has to bill the government. Then we have to do more paperwork. Then maybe like 10 years from now we’ll have a decent house to live in.

But it’s downtown. The husband can bike to work. We can walk the kids the ONE BLOCK to school. And sit on our huge southern front porch as the fat rain drops and contemplate about life and God and listen to swamp pop on our record player in the parlor.

Closing date is May 20-something. Wish us luck.

Lent 2015

We are midway through Lent—the 40 days after Mardi Gras and before Easter where Jesus was said to have walked through the desert, being tormented by Satan—right before He was humiliated and murdered on the cross.

Some know Lent as the time when you “give something up” in some kind of arbitrary masochistic deprivation. I’m new to this whole Catholic thing, I have no wise words to share. But I use this blog to document life in preparation for the onset of Alzheimer’s and so readers be warned this post may mimic the torturous nature of the season.

Lundi and Mardi Gras were cold but exciting times this year at the Newman’s. We paid off all of my student loan debt. ALL OF IT. We are debt free and it. is. great. We envisioned a loosening of mind and body as life-without-debt now allowed for more disposable income. We also did our taxes early and discovered we were getting a nice cushy tax refund. Ya! Turns out kids ARE helpful in some regards… Then Ash Wednesday hit.

My husband’s boss—a priest—informed us that the house we live in, graciously provided for by our parish, either needs to be sold or rented out to balance the operations budget. So we probably needed to be gone by July 1st.

Ugh. Great timing, Father. You’re a real poet.

So instead of blowing a paycheck on a kayak or keyboard we decided to stick to our pasta and water rationing and go house hunting.

We found a beauty of a fixer-upper. It was perfectly imperfect. Horrible kitchen with no appliances, hideous paint and lighting fixtures—with a glorious Southern porch, situated a half-block away from one of the most beautiful streets in our town with Gone With The Wind mansions—right across the street, literally 15 feet away from a great school that I am now enrolling our daughter in.

We decided to make an offer. The house was on the market for 4 months so we thought we would go in under asking price. They countered at the midway point of $65k. Then out of nowhere some asshole comes in and makes an all cash offer above our offer price.

There were tears.

More house hunting has occurred. Lots of driving. Nothing has emerged. We’ll give updates later.
But I have discovered St. Joseph is THE go-to Saint when asking for intercessions in home selling/buying.

This housing situation has caused great stress. I am now working and juggling more than I should with added ferocity. My husband and I have been fighting because we’re just tired. Properties I like he doesn’t like. Realtors I want to work with he doesn’t want to work with. Money problems always add stress. When I feel out of control I often buy more like I’m securing the nest before a hurricane. When he feels out of control he saves more. Our different styles lead to disagreement and so we fight.

Our almost-3-year-old has picked up on our stress and for the last 2 nights in a row she has had major night terrors. Our book Healthy Sleep Habits for a Happy Child talks about night terrors typically lasting 5-15 minutes. These ones are lasting two hours. She hits, she throws, she screams herself hoarse. If she were 200 lbs. with better aim I would likely be dead. If were 200 lbs. and didn’t have the self-control and tools to deal with the stress she would likely be dead. First night we thought she might be possessed—like Satan himself was tormenting us through our daughter.


Today I went to Mass and our priest did a homily on how Satan divides communities and side-tracks us from our mission to love.

My mom helped me do some research on the fixer-upper house—turns out the man who owned it and was selling was in prison. He was selling the house as-is and needed a buyer with a lot of cash because the things that were wrong with it wouldn’t qualify for most conventional (and definitely not FHA) loans. He was married and rather than rent it out his wife was selling it for the cash. The reason he was in prison?

Consuming, creating, and distributing child pornography.

Did I mention the house was right across the street from a pre-school and a playground??

People do evil things. And bad things happen that are out of our control. The season of Lent is meant to bring us closer to God and closer to holiness through self-mastery, self-control, and mindfulness through suffering.

I have a baby crying. Apologies but I’ll have to finish this later…

Rotten Root of an Infertile Culture

My latest piece for Ethika Politika:

The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that sin includes any activity that brings death to the body, or death to the soul.

Increased utilization of third party reproductive technologies and our current infertility epidemic are deeply tied to sin. The birth dearth is primarily a result of the marriage decline. The marriage decline is a result of a profound absence in virtues and character development—resulting in a culture in which people can’t trust themselves and can’t trust the opposite sex to meet the basic demands of a marriage: commitment, fidelity, and cooperation. We don’t need more sexual education, we need more virtues education.

I recently was confronted about my Catholic conversion by a teenager whom I’ve known for years. “You’re not going to force your religion on your kids, are you?” he chided. I responded defensively, “I plan on at least giving my children the gift of a moral education—which the Church expertly provides.” From there began a conversation about whether there was an absolute truth or not. My teenage friend announced that there is no such thing: “morality is arbitrary … Good and bad means different things for different people in different circumstances.” Later in the conversation, the topic of children came up. I asked him, “How old do you think you’re going to be when you get married and have kids?” “I’m not sure I want to have kids,” he said.

I’m not sure I want to have kids.

His response shocked me greatly, because I’ve known him for years and I know that he is great with kids and since early childhood he has regularly declared his desire to eventually be a dad. Were his first remarks regarding truth related to this change in desire for children? I think they are.

David Brooks of the New York Times wrote a column in 2011addressing a researched study that found that young Americans lack categories and vocabulary on matters of “right and wrong, moral dilemmas, and the meaning of life”:

Read more…

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