I am unexpectedly pregnant after something went slightly awry with the NFP this month. To be honest the timing could not be more inauspicious. Yesterday my husband, who was up until midnight last night, a Rector in the C of E, resigned his benefice in order that he might become a Roman Catholic, a move he has been contemplating for quite some time. Whilst this was undoubtedly the only thing he could do, having spiritually and mentally come home some time ago, what this decision means for us as a family is that we will shortly lose our home and source of income, although he is applying for lay jobs elsewhere. The difficulty is that with career experience consisting of purely ministry and three theological degrees, options seem to be somewhat limited, him being either over-qualified or lacking in experience and due to the current economic climate, there being a glut of applications for every suitable position. Still, as Mr Micawber might say, I have every faith that something might turn up!

What additionally complicates the issue is that I am due to start a full-time undergraduate degree in English Literature, with a view to teaching at the end of the month. Pregnancy did not figure at all in our plans, however, as Catholics, we always need to be open to the possibility of life and not taking on board the contraceptive mentality. Whilst we had not discounted more children in the future, we had taken the decision that it would not be sensible to be adding to our family at this time.

Pregnancy entails for me, morning sickness of the direst nature. Why it’s called morning sickness is beyond me, it’s more like all day constant nausea, vomiting and migranes, although I will spare the grisly detail. This post has taken over a week to compose, in a piecemeal fashion,  because looking at screens and reading books only exacerbates the condition. I have absolutely no idea as to how I am going to be able to complete any preparatory reading and am more than a little concerned.  In addition my work as an at-home researcher for a text answering service has been hindered, meaning another source of income is reduced.There have been times where I have been lying on my bed absolutely desperate to make the sickness stop, prepared to do almost anything, just to gain some respite. Offering it all up has never been my forte, even though I undoubtedly know its the only course of action. I am thankful for this pregnancy in many ways, children are always a blessing and when I read of the agony of infertility suffered by so many couples, I know that I am extremely fortunate to be blessed with hyper-fecundity.

But, all in all, its difficult and I am more than a little daunted at the prospect of 2 young babies, 16 months apart and an uncertain future for our family.

So this week, I went to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy. I was absolutely exhausted following a day of sickness and extreme fatigue, my baby is currently teething and not sleeping through the night, our nights consisting of her crying and my taking the path of least resistence, i.e bringing her into bed with us whereby she spends the rest of the night fitfully breastfeeding. The doctor took one look at my ashen face and instantly offered me access to abortion services. Clearly, we do have a “good case” if such a thing exists for terminating this pregnancy. In addition to which he harangued me about the use of NFP, telling me “it doesn’t work”, “I’m a Catholic and we have to live in the real world” ending up concluding in a hash of new age philosophy “well, any contraception can fail, I guess really its meant to be”!

I was horrified. Although the scenario as I’ve painted it, is not ideal, where is the hope? Things are never hopeless and in fact all that would have sufficed was a spot of sympathy. I wasn’t actually looking for sympathy, it was simply that after an incredibly stressful few months, I had reached my emotional limit. For me it was a stark illustration that in the UK we really do offer abortion on demand, which is what the detractors of the Abortion Act originally feared. The spirit of the abortion act was intended to help women in truly desperate circumstances. Though at times, in the throes of hormones and sickness I have felt utterly wretched, my situation is not a desperate one. To give birth to this baby is not going to cause me considerable mental or physical damage, even though at my most melodramatic moments, it may seem that way. I am married, I have a husband to emotionally support me, who, to give him his enormous dues here, is more than sharing the load at the moment in terms of childcare, he is the one currently doing the majority of changing and feeding the baby, in order to give me some respite. The worst aspect of the sickness is that my own precious baby’s smell is repugnant to me, which is heart-breaking. I find myself holding a baby in one arm whilst heaving into the sink.

My parents live 3 hours away; upon informing my mother, her response was “oh NO, that IS bad news, I just don’t see how you’re going to be able to cope”, which has been repeated quite a few times. I know however she means this with the best of intentions, she is obviously just very concerned.

The thing is, that amongst all this, there IS hope. Although life isn’t going to be easy, by anyone’s standards, the result is going to be a beautiful baby who is going to bring an enormous amount of joy and happiness to all. A new life with all of its possibilities. I am not going to crack up under the mental pressure, I am not going to be physically damaged by the birth, although admittedly conceiving 8 months post c-section goes against medical advice, but again its not that uncommon. I am an educated, intelligent women, my children are certainly not going to be physically or emotionally neglected, there is no reason to suppose that everything is not going to be alright.

This is what gets me, the consumerism and instant gratification of our easily disposable culture. Many people might argue that there would be a sound case for an abortion, it is my body, my rights and I should have an abortion and not feel a shred of guilt. I am shocked that a doctor can glibly offer an abortion as a solution. How was he to know that my physical and/or mental health would be adversely affected? He just offered it as being a way out, an answer, without giving it much thought. My experience is that abortion causes many more problems than it solves.

Many people would undoubtedly feel that I am being reckless, but surely this reckless attitude to life, as being disposable, dispensable with, is what is at the heart of many of society’s problems. My baby has the same right to life as everyone else, despite the physical difficulties it might be causing me. Besides, these are only temporary. Sickness and exhaustion are debilitating and add to the woes of women in a crisis pregnancy, making it difficult for her to be able to think rationally, particularly in the throes of all the extra hormones. I know, I have felt utterly wretched and desperate at times.

What has kept me going, is the fervent congratulations from people, reminding me that this is actually an occasion of happiness, a new life with all its possibilities, not some great disaster or tragedy. Clearly my faith has also been the contributing factor, but I think the point I am trying to make here, is that being pro-life requires no religious, but rather a moral conviction as to what is right. I am strong, I will cope, I have no excuse for killing my unborn child, other than it’s somewhat inconvenient timing. It is horrifying that society passively accepts and would validate my decision, should I have taken up the doctor’s offer, thereby destroying 2 lives.

At least now, I can look women facing crisis pregnancies in the face, I can say, look I’ve been there, I know it’s incredibly difficult, but there is hope, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Right now the words of Mother Teresa seem very apt:

“But I feel that the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a war against the child – a direct killing of the innocent child – murder by the mother herself. And if we accept that a mother can kill even her own child, how can we tell other people not to kill one another? How do we persuade a woman not to have an abortion? As always, we must persuade her with love, and we remind ourselves that love means to be willing to give until it hurts. Jesus gave even his life to love us. So the mother who is thinking of abortion, should be helped to love – that is, to give until it hurts her plans, or her free time, to respect the life of her child. The father of that child, whoever he is, must also give until it hurts. By abortion, the mother does not learn to love, but kills even her own child to solve her problems. And by abortion, the father is told that he does not have to take any responsibility at all for the child he has brought into the world. That father is likely to put other women into the same trouble. So abortion just leads to more abortion. Any country that accepts abortion is not teaching the people to love, but to use any violence to get what they want. That is why the greatest destroyer of love and peace is abortion. ”

I have a scan tomorrow to discover whether or not its a multiple pregnancy as there is a more than  a distinct possibility that this could be the case.

Things are going to be just fine.

I made the fatal error of venturing out to work on Friday having completely forgotten that it was Pride weekend in Brighton. Now any event that forces me to sit in standstill traffic for over an hour on the Preston Road, is going to arouse a certain amount of ire, without factoring in the added element of infant experiencing what can only appear to be famine levels of hunger, judging by the screams, but my journey descended further into the realms of dire sitcom territory with the ensuing conversation from my 6 year old.

Mummy what’s Gay?

Another word for happy darling. Why?

It says over there Gay Pride Parade 7 August. Can we go please?

No I don’t think so darling, there’s no way to get into town tomorrow and no buses.

Oh, but there’s going to be a fair – Look!

Why are people proud of the parade. Is it because they are happy?

Yes, that’s right darling *breathes sigh of relief*

Have they achieved something really special, like I did when I got to Level 8 of SuperMario? I didn’t think I could do it and I kept trying and now I’ve rescued Princess Peach, except I haven’t, because it was Luigi superguide, but I kept trying and now I’ve unlocked all the levels, or Luigi has, but I helped him.

You have to keep trying mummy, that’s what I always say. I kept trying at the piano and violin and now I’m really good. Is the parade to celebrate being gay at Grade 8? I’m very gay a lot of the time, so when can I take my Grade 1?

Tell you what darling, special treat as we’re stuck in traffic, why don’t you put on Nanny Mcphee on DVD?

Yay!

A few minutes later.

Mummy, look over there, that man is wearing bin liner knickers.

AAAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA (manic cackling).

Has Imogen woken up?

AAAAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (even more disturbing manic cackling)

Mummy look, that man has got no bottom on his trousers. His BUM is hanging out. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Mummy, mummy, mummy! Look. That lady thinks she’s a dog! She’s wearing a SPIKY DOG COLLAR. AAAAARGH! Look, why is that other woman holding her lead, like Charlie. Are they playing a game of Lady and the Tramp?

Yes darling I think they probably are.

Mummy, who are the ladyboys of Bangkok?

Right, well they are boys who like to dress up as ladies to make people laugh.

Why?

Well because they do. What would you do if you saw a boy in a dress?

I’d laugh. AAAAARGH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

But mummy they are wearing feather boas and sparkly swimming costumes. They look really pretty. Can I be a ladyboy when I grow up?

Well, no, because you are a girl, so you won’t need to dress up like one.

Well I’m still going to wear a sparkly costume and feathers and pretend I’m one.

That’s nice dear.

Can we go and see them please?

*mind tracks back to when I saw Danny LaRue in Paignton aged six and checks for any lasting damage, then realises that Fr. Robin will throw a blue fit if it gets out that his wife has taken his daughter to see the LadyBoys of Bangkok. Not to mention scenarios at school when they ask what the children did over the summer and drawings of ladyboys are produced*

It doesn’t matter, look there’s one over there. I’m going to give her my biggest smile and wave. “Hello Mrs Ladyboy, my name is Isabella and one day I’m going to grow up and be the prettiest ladyboy in the world and get my grade 8 at being gay”.

Oh my sainted trousers!

I have been playing a very naughty game on Twitter, entitled “change love to knob songs”. So far I have come up with such gems as All you need is Knob (The Beatles),  A Million Knobsongs (Take That), You can’t hurry knob (The Supremes), All the knob in the world (Dionne Warwick), and so on and so forth.*

Midway through said jape, I was further amused to discover that there is a group on FaceBook entitled Substitute the word ‘wand’ in Harry Potter for ‘willy’.

Totally inappropriate, unashamedly purile and utterly hilarious. Those who have known me for many years won’t be too surprised. I know I should know much better.

This propensity for bawdy humour probably doesn’t bode too well does it? I often wonder about my propensity to be something of a liability. The quote of the evening goes to DH who commented “I don’t think that the bishop is going to be too impressed if he finds out that my wife likes to say ‘knob’ on the internet”. Sometimes it feels like I’m living in a particularly surreal 21st century version of Terry & June.

Still some of the greatest writers in the English language exhibited a taste for bawdiness and vulgarity. Chaucer and Shakespeare spring to mind. Ben Elton and Richard Curtis aren’t averse to a knob-gag or two, and yet their artistic and moral integrity remain intact.

What I can’t fathom out is whether or not it falls into the category of flippancy, which CS Lewis warns about in his Screwtape Letters? I don’t think so, in that bawdy humour isn’t laughter for the sheer sake of mockery, with no actual humour at work. It doesn’t contain personal derision, although  it isn’t perhaps the most intelligent form of humour. I’d like to think that A Million Knobsongs is what Lewis might term a ‘joke proper’ as it is the play on words, the surreal idea of someone singing about the amount of songs devoted to the male genatalia in an attempt to woo, that delights, amuses and entertains. Besides which, the word ‘knob’ is funny as is the idea that there might be literally a million songs about a knob. The double-entendre which allows silly, smuttily ambigous sentences to be constructed, is a rich seam of comic potential, and for someone who enjoys word-play as much as I do, a natural source of mirth. I do concede however, that substituting one word with a rude one, is the type of thing that a 6 year old child might delight in as opposed to an allegedly intelligent and sophisticated person.

Perhaps this is a purely British phenomenon. For me, Up Pompeii, remains unsurpassed in the annals of British comedy. Still, I console myself with the Wikki thought that the acceptance of saucy and smutty humour is a”historical reaction to the intolerance of Puritanism”. I must admit, I hadn’t ever considered the possibility of a theological connection to our humour, although Monty Python married the two beautifully in ‘The Life of Brian’.

And thus I end the post on a classic note. Titter ye not.

* Since original post, it has been pointed out to me that I omitted How Deep is your Knob – The Beegees. Sincerest apologies.

A long time ago during the process of a job application I was required to take a fatuous psychometric test of very dubious value. One of the questions that stuck in my mind was “which would you rather be, a landscape gardener or a bishop?”. Given that I have a tendency to kill plants as soon as I even look at them, that I can’t bear getting dirt under my fingernails and I hate being stung and scratched, a bishop seemed like the most obvious answer. You get to wear a pointy hat and purple has always been my favourite colour. Twas a no-brainer really!

Of course, being a woman, at the time I took the test, being a bishop was not a career option that was ever open to me, (nor indeed any non-Christians, hence the inanity of the question) but it looks as if that is all due to change over the course of the weekend.

I personally am very sad about developments, and not simply because it seems likely that women are to become bishops. What saddens me is that the Church of England, which previously had a reputation for it’s liberalness, for its open-mindedness, for being a broad Church, is displaying exactly the same kind of intolerance towards opponents of women bishops, which it is professed to fight.

This is not a question of misogyny or intolerance. The opposition to women priests and bishops is not based on fear, intolerance or a sense of male superiority. The Bible is extremely clear on the equality between man and woman,”God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27) Mankind is created in God’s image, both male and female. Those who are opposed to women priests and bishops base their opposition on theological grounds.

Though, personally, I have absolutely no doubts about whether or not a woman could adequately perform the priestly ministerial duties, we need only look at the complete mess that the English Bishops have made of the Papal Visit (couldn’t be trusted to book the parish hall for quiz night) to realise that their priestly orders haven’t exactly imbued them with admin skills. In fact, whilst I’m on the subject, most priests I know seem to be a little *ahem* lacking in this area, although to be fair, I don’t remember Jesus saying anything about paperwork when He was giving out the sacraments! This is not about doubting women’s ability to perform the role, but what needs to be remembered is that no-one, male or female has the “right” to be a priest or bishop. It is not like a job application with all the ensuing and necessary equality legislation. It is a sacrament, and no one has a title to grace. It is an unmerited gift from Christ.

This may strike some as unfair, if this is a gift reserved for men, but  God has given women other gifts that he has not given to men. For example, women bring the body of Christ (souls) into the world one birth at a time. Men do not have this privilege. Priests bring the body of Christ (Eucharist) into the world one Mass at a time—a gift reserved to them, acting in the person of Christ.

The problem comes for the Church of England in that if despite the best of intentions, women do not hold valid orders and are not in fact priests, this then has ramifications for the future of the Church of England, in that there is doubt as to whether those ordained by women bishops, do in fact hold valid, sacramental orders.

I cannot help but believe that it is wrong for traditionalists not to have any compromise afforded to them, and to be forced to accept the jurisdiction of someone whom they do not believe to be in possession of sacramental orders. This is not about female repression or subjugation. This is not about inequality. Actually the inequality comes from the liberals themselves who are refusing to let the traditionalists keep to their position. It seems to me that the Church of England is saying “there is room for everyone’s views, except yours”. The liberals screaming that they have won and that there can be no room for catholics to be able to keep their integrity intact, that they need to be forced to accept women in the episcopate, is highly unedifying. I hope that some compromise may be reached, not least for the sake of Christian Unity. Whatever happens it is a sad and momentous weekend.

Back to the original question, I guess I would have to accept the landscape gardening position. At least I’d get to sit on one of those fun ride-on mowers!

“but now you’re just my delicious ickle snuggle-dumpling”.  Watching the nauseating spectacle of Mr and Mrs Cameron-Clegg pledging their political troths earlier, the  need for some good old-fashioned vicious political satire never seemed more pressing. Spitting Image would have had an absolute field day. The two Davids would have had nothing on this pair. “I wuv ooo”, “no, I wuv ooo more”, “I know I said that you were the devil incarnate, but that was just my teensy weensy ickle joke, my way of showing you how much I wuv oo”, “I love it when you talk tough on those benefit scroungers, it gives me a wibbly feeling in my tummy”…

Spitting Image would have had them mincing up the aisle of the Downing Street Rose Garden (and fancy choosing that as a venue) strewing rose petals and staging a 24-hour love-in and then both emerging hot, sweaty and triumphant at  having thrashed out their differences in a manly yet-loving fashion. *shudders*. The possibilities are endless.

Being a closet aficianado of Meatloaf, Paradise by the Dashboard Light suddenly takes on a whole new political resonance. You can see CallmeDave cast in the role of the wannabe lover, convinced he’s going to score a home-run, Clegg as the lover who won’t succumb until he has exacted firm committed promises, CallmeDave getting increasingly carried away on a sea of passion, his lust blinding him to the realities of the situation, with both parties finally  “praying for the end of time, it’s all that I can do…praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you” following a union of recrimination, regret and bitterness.

Alternatively I could see Mr and Mrs Cameron-Clegg singing a very convincing version of The Ballad of Tom Jones. “You stopped us from killing each other – PR, PR, PR, PR, you’ll never know but you saved our political lives. I never fagged for Louis Theroux, and I don’t come from Slough”. Or something.

Call me an old cynic but this ‘new politics’ has an eerily familiar ring. I also don’t believe that selling out your core principles re-branded as “compromise” is “grown up” you patronising so and so. It’s called hypocrisy and displays a seamy desire for power on both sides. So long as we’re in government it doesn’t really matter if we ditch most of our manifesto eh boys? Being “grown up” is leading by example, it’s showing courage and perhaps giving the country another opportunity to cast their vote, given the first round of voting was so indecisive. In an AV system isn’t the party that comes last, eliminated?

In the meantime, come back Spitting Image – you’re sorely needed.

Oh and in other news, I had a wonderful snapshot of middle England. The champagne being cracked open as Gordon made his exit and today when the news referred to “the prime minister, David Cameron” my mum clutching herself with joy,stealing a teary-eyed misty glance at my dad and declaring “how WONDERFUL to hear that” in paroxysms of delight, made my week!

The internet is absolutely aflame with claim and counter-claim regarding Philippa Stroud. What disturbs me about this affair, other than Mrs Stroud’s alleged prayer-sessions, is that the mainstream press appear to have been subject to a gagging order and party to veiled threats on behalf of her lawyers, who have apparently been contacting a number of media outlets and reminding them of their duties under Section 106 of the Representation of the Peoples Act. This makes it illegal to publish any false statement of fact in relation to the candidate’s personal character or conduct, unless the publication can show that they had reasonable grounds for believing the statement to be true.

Whilst I can recognise the agenda behind the whole story and still believe that it is being whipped into a frenzy by those who believe that the Conservative Party is full of homophobes and bigots as well as part of an ultra right-wing fundamentalist Christian conspiracy to grab power,  I think nonetheless that there are elements of this story which do stand up to scrutiny and upon which the press should be entitled to report.

Mrs Stroud’s statement is perfectly frank:

“I make no apology for being a committed Christian. However it is categorically untrue that I believe homosexuality to be an illness and I am deeply offended that The Observer has suggested otherwise. I have spent more than 20 years working with disturbed people who society have turned their back on and who are often not helped by state agencies. Drug addicts, alcoholics, the mentally ill and the homeless are just some of the people that I and my friends in the charitable sector have tried to help over the years…The idea that I am prejudiced against gay people is false and insulting”.

I tend to believe her and I stand by my assertion that she is decent, honest and sincere woman, someone full of compassion, motivated by her Christian ideals who wants to help the most needy in our society.

What is telling about her statement, however, is that no mention is made of these reported prayer sessions which have caused widespread revulsion. When it was pointed out that the allegations did not concern her views on whether or not homosexuality was an illness but whether or not it could be “cured” by prayer sessions and casting out demons, her spokesman refused to elaborate.

It seems that there is factual evidence that these sessions did take place as there are at least two separate witness accounts and she has written a book God’s Heart for the Poor in which she explains with how to deal with demonic activity.

Without going into too much depth, ascribing homosexual inclinations to demonic activity is not a view held by mainstream Christianity. Indeed demonic activity is an extremely rare occurrence, in approximately 98% of cases it is deemed that there is no actual possession or demonic presence.There is no harm in praying for and with someone who is troubled by aspects of their sexuality however this is an entirely different prospect to what has been reported.

The Conservatives and Mrs Stroud’s office are clearly now involved in a major damage limitation exercise hence the various letters that have been sent to the media. I don’t believe that CallmeDave is a homophobic, his swift actions in the case of Philip Larnder have certainly displayed the impression that there is no room for anyone perceived of homophobia in his Tory Party and many of the party’s leading lights seem to display enlightened views.  My feeling is that someone in Tory HQ will have a few questions to answer with regards to the selection process and how someone who engages in questionable practices bound to alienate a vast proportion of the majority managed to slip through the net.

Whether or not Mrs Stroud is an honorable person is not in doubt. Whether or not she would be a worthy representative of the constituency of Sutton is up to the electorate who should be allowed to make an informed choice based on all of the facts. It is a sad day for democracy when the party traditionally associated with Libertarianism employs the tactics of the Soviet Union.