In the last presidential campaign, much was made of “the soccer moms,” the suburban opinion-makers in their minivans, tending their children. This time around, almost no one is talking about the women’s vote, except to say this candidate or that has “favorables” with women.

That’s too bad, because when you ask women what’s important to them, it is not the one-dimensional issue of right to life vs. choice (although women are divided on this issue) but a whole range of quality of life issues that affect the way we live.

Mothers today are out there in the trenches, in an increasingly permissive and violent society where guns, road rage, drugs and alcohol threaten their children. We live in a time of great prosperity, but some — mostly women, children and the elderly — still live in poverty, out of the reach of society’s safety nets.

Public education, a good idea, has fallen on hard times. Test scores are down nationally, and the schools need help.

The environment needs to be protected so that the planet survives, and healthcare and social security need to be fixed.

In short, the soccer moms are still here, worried about their children’s future.

All of this calls for politicians with clear, solution-based ideas that, beyond policy and rhetoric, will actually work. It would be wonderful to hear the best of these ideas debated civilly, in prime time, so that all of us could form our considered opinions.

That would be the world I’d imagine. Judging from the political jabber so far, I fear that there will be more male head-butting than discussion, more rhetoric than reason, more bluster than substance. Journalists make it worse, hoping for the “excitement” that comes, in their view, from charge and counter-charge vs. from the free discussion of ideas.

Perhaps we women should make our concerns known, should ask that the level of debate be raised, make sure the politicians are specific in their comments. We need to make them spend more time telling us what they’re for, rather than what they’re against.

We’re used to dealing with bureaucrats at the local level — from teachers to school administrators to town hall — but making a difference in the national arena is still fairly new to the moms in the middle, those living their lives and raising their children.

Perhaps it’s time that the soccer moms raise their voices and beg for more light and a lot less heat.

I hope this election year — the first presidential election of the new millennium — that we can rise above the sound bites and really answer all those questions the soccer moms had in the last race.

The doctor again showed up at 6 in the morning (Sunday, now) and checked me. Still one centimeter, and by the way, my pains were not corresponding to the monitor. Meaning? She suggested I might have a bladder infection, so I was checked for that. I cried openly to the doctor, begging her for a C-section, and she said, “You’re not in labor, there’s nothing I can do.” My parents came at this point, and everyone was concerned and sympathetic and didn’t understand why the hell a C-section wasn’t being done RIGHT THEN. I was just writhing in the bed, miserable beyond description. A bladder infection was ruled out, and I sent my parents away.

Then I received the first real relief in days: the glorious, wonderful, Demerol shot. It put me right out and I actually slept for about an hour and a half. That was heaven. I was also jacuzzi-ing as much as I could. After the Demerol wore off, I sent poor Steve home to get some rest. I figured one of us was going to have to have some strength for the real work ahead. I was then given another shot of Demerol, but it didn’t work as wonderfully as the first. Wearily, I pushed the IV stand back and forth to the bathroom, moaning and clenching and trying to breathe. The nurse came and checked on me and told me that I was now between two and three centimeters. She was very excited. “It’s started!” she said. “I want you to be excited about this.” I tried a weak smile, but at that point, I had no reserve energy for joy. She repeated to me that I was now officially in labor.

I finally understood what she was saying, so I beeped Steve, then lay down again to rest. He showed up, out of breath, and from then on we really worked. He would lie down on his cot in between every contraction, but as soon as he heard me take a deep cleansing breath, he was beside me, holding my hand, cheering me on. I continued to progress, and I was given more Nubane to cope. Then I was given an enema “to speed things up” (considered in the scheme of things, not the worst part of it). The doctor showed up to break my bag of waters and insert a little scalp probe on the baby for closer monitoring. The nurses changed shifts and we continued breathing into the home stretch.

Finally, I was told that I had reached that most sought-after of destinations for the laboring mama: five centimeters and zero station! Epidural time! The anesthesiologist came in and I had to sit with my back rounded, perfectly still throughout the contractions, while he poked at my spine. He didn’t get it right away and poked around some more. It was taking forever and I was getting fed up. I just about told him to forget it, when he announced he was finished. The medicine poured icily into me and, in no time, I was completely numb from chest to thigh. It was absolute heaven. I passed right out and woke up and hour and a half later. I needed a booster and got one. Then I felt this pressure — the urge to push. I told the nurse I had to use the bathroom. She smiled and said, “I think it’s time to push.” So she checked me and sure enough, I was ready. So we started pushing.

It was around 5 in the morning. The nurse was wiped out, Steve was wiped out, and I was beyond wiped out, but the three of us started going. In between each contraction, the nurse would open up a fresh pair of gloves. For some reason, I focused on this little ritual. She said she thought we’d have a baby by 6. I cried. No way could I do this for an hour! She said, “Okay, make a liar out of me, 5:15.” I kept my eye on the clock and on the mirror. Steve had one leg, the nurse had the other, and she commanded me to push the baby out.

Let me just pause to say, “OUCH!!!!” The sensation is indescribable, unlike any other in life, but I can tell you this much: it hurts like crazy. And there’s no going back. You’re really in it until it’s over once you’re pushing. So I grunted and strained, cried, moaned and pushed and pushed and pushed.

The doctor came in at 6:30 with a technician and it was all business. The mirror was removed, and three minutes later, Hannah was born. They placed her, all warm and wet, on my chest. I was just so relieved. I didn’t even cry. I just held her and stared at her.

The placenta came out without much fuss and then I was stitched up (from a tear and an episiotomy); Steve called my parents and then his own. Miss Hannah scored a 9 on her Apgars, then Steve left with her to go do all her other little tests. I just lay there in the bed; nurses poured water over my ravaged perineum.

I was amazed. Even after watching her little head trying to emerge, even after days of agony, and months of pregnancy, it still seemed as though this little being had suddenly dropped from heaven. But I had done it. And now I had my war story. Now I had my angel baby.

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On August 24th, at 6:33 a.m., little Hannah Claire, all 8 pounds, 20 1/2 inches of her, slid into the world. And the amazing part of it was that she did it on her own, meaning I didn’t have to have the Pitocin.

Let me tell you why that was a good thing: after I got the first application of gel on Thursday, I was sent home and started to experience some mild cramping, not unlike menstrual cramps. By the next morning, these sensations were getting stronger, and we returned to the hospital for more gel. The doc checked me and told me I was still barely one centimeter dilated. I was disappointed, naturally.

By the time I left, a few hours later, I was no longer just experiencing “discomfort.” I was in actual PAIN. I asked the doctor, somewhat apologetically, if I could have anything for the pain. She said I could certainly take Tylenol (extra strength, of course) and apply heating pads. Once she left the room, the nurse (one of a series of incredibly kind and competent people who cared for me and Hannah) told me to go home, relax and take a bath.

The pains grew and grew during the day and the Tylenol did nothing whatsoever. I took a bath, which helped somewhat. The so-called breathing exercises were of no use. I was tensing up with each contraction. I was weary, but I couldn’t sleep because of the pain. Finally, we noticed that the pains were coming regularly, about five minutes apart. A phone call to my physician brother-in-law confirmed our decision to return to the hospital. I was convinced this was it. So was Steve.

Recognized as regulars by now, we went up to the third floor, where I went through the familiar “pee in a cup, get undressed, put on a gown and get in bed” ritual. I was once again hooked up to monitors. The nurse checked me, told me I was still barely one centimeter and therefore definitely not in labor. Then she said that there was no way to release me without having the doctor check the monitor printout, but since it was Friday night, we were stuck in the hospital for the night, unless the doctor had a fax machine at home. Luckily, we were in one of the new luxury suites, quite comfy, complete with a bed for Steve. So we sweated it out. I didn’t sleep a wink, despite two Seconal. Then I got a shot of Nubane, which did dull things enough to get some rest in between the pains.

At around six in the morning on Saturday, the doctor showed up, checked me out, declared me still barely one centimeter, and sent me home. I asked her rather jokingly if she would consider just doing a C-section then and there for twenty bucks, since the pain I was having was not allowing me to sleep AT ALL and we were still days away from the Pitocin. She regarded me with the sympathy one reserves for a mental patient and replied that they don’t do C-sections for that reason. So we left the hospital without a baby once again.

Saturday was the worst yet. The agony was unrelenting and I was beginning to believe I would never have the baby, that I would never again know sleep and that I would have to endure three days of Pitocin, painful labor and still end up a C-section due to sheer exhaustion. I was feeling very sorry for myself, and poor Steve was beside himself. He called his brother again who told him that there was a medicine they could give me to stop the contractions, and therefore allow me to rest, which, in his opinion, was crucial. Armed with that info, Steve called the doctor and really put it to her to do something, ANYTHING, to get his wife out of agony.

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Blood pressure is measured with a device that records two numbers. The lower the numbers, the better. When your blood pressure remains constantly high, it can force your heart to work too hard, which can threaten your health.

Though the causes of most hypertension are unknown, the risk factors are well known. If high blood pressure runs in your family, your risk is doubled. If you are overweight, under stress, or inactive, you are at risk. And the risk increases with age.

Hypertension should never be taken lightly. If there’s any question in your mind, have your blood pressure checked by your doctor, or at your community’s health center.

If your work environment contains loud noise, be sure to protect your ears with the proper gear.
Don’t use cotton balls. They don’t block enough sound, and they can become lodged deep in the ear canal.

Teach your children about the potential damage caused by exposure to loud music.

Cut down on salt in your diet. It can cause fluid to build up in your middle ear, increasing the risk of tinnitus.

Get adequate rest, avoid stress and practice relaxation techniques.

Once you’ve picked your dog food you still need to decide how much to feed and how often. The amount to feed may be suggested on the dog food package but since each animal is an individual, don’t be surprised if the optiaml amount necessary is significantly different from that on the label. Basically, you want to feed enough to keep your dog in top condition. If it is getting too fat you are feeding too much regardless of what it says of the label. By the same token, if you are feeding the recommended amount and your dog is not maintaining proper weight you may need to be feeding more. Check with your veterinarian first however, since weight loss may be an early sign of a problem that needs to be investigated.

When it comes to feeding schedules, most dogs do best when fed at specific times throughout the day rather than just leaving food down at all times. The intervals will change as pups grow into adulthood. For instance, pups at first should be fed 2-3 meals daily until they are 12-15 months old, then once to twice daily when they are converted to adult food.

Pups do better when maintained on a routine. When puppies are first weaned, they will need to be fed 3 times a day, spread roughly 4 hours apart. Ideally this would mean feedings in the morning, at noon, and at dinnertime. Do not leave food out all day because it is not good for your dog’s digestive system and it makes training more difficult. Pups that are fed on a regular schedule will be housebroken on a regular schedule. Leave food down only for 15-20 minutes at a time. If your pup leaves some food behind, take it away and do not give treats. Give slightly less fresh food at the next meal. Remember that directions that come with the dog foods are only approximations. Dogs are like people; some need to eat a lot and others don’t. Treat your dog like an individual and don’t make it conform to what you think it should need. If it is healthy and gains weight on schedule, it is meeting all its own requirements.

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There are three main types of dog food: dry; semi-moist, and; canned. Dry pet foods have a shelf life of six months to a year; semi-moist foods stay fresh for nine months; a canned pet food will remain fresh for several years. Currently, very few manufacturers provide freshness dating on their products but it is a disclosure that should be encouraged.

Dry dog food (6-10% moisture) is available as kibble, meal, or expanded particles and is convenient to buy, store and feed. Dry foods contain the most preservatives because they need an antioxidant additive to prevent the fat in the diet from going rancid. That is why they have the shortest shelf life.

Semi-moist dog foods (23-40% moisture) are softer and easier to chew than dry foods. They contain propylene glycol which acts as a source of carbohydrate, moisture, and preservative. Semi-moist foods also contain an antioxidant to prevent the fat from turning rancid.

Canned dog foods (68-80% moisture) have varied flavors and textures and contain the least preservatives. They are cooked in the can to a temperature of 120C to achieve sterility and therefore preservatives are not needed.

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Symptoms of inhalant use:

Nausea and fatigue;
Coughing and nosebleeds;
Lack of coordination;
Violent behavior.
Health risks:

Suffocation; With glue or paint thinner, users may suffer permanent damage to the brain and nervous system.

An increased risk of violence.

Legal counsel for the Ephedra Education Council Wes Seiger says that ephedra should be regulated, not banned. The council cites studies that have shown ephedra’s effectiveness for weight-loss, when used properly. “The issue of whether ephedra should be banned, regulated or otherwise dealt with has been the subject of proposed regulations and other forms of debate for five years now,” Siegner says. “The FDA already has a petition from all the trade groups requesting regulation of ephedra, which would include a limit on the serving amount and daily intake of ephedra, require comprehensive warning labels [and] include a warning against the use of the supplement by minors under the age of 18.”

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Public Citizen says that ephedra, which it calls “the most lethal” of all supplements, increases the risk of heart attacks, strokes and seizures because it raises blood pressure. The group has written the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to ask that the substance be banned. Other groups have expressed concern about ephedra as well. At the beginning of this month, the National Football League was the first professional sports league to ban ephedra. And Texas recently became the first state to mandate that manufacturers list a toll-free number on products containing ephedra to allow health problems to be reported.

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