Being able to hop between two countries always gives the fascinating space of comparison. This time it was between antenatal services.

To be fair, no local authority in the UK is the same as far as any medical services are concerned and I've probably had an atypical experience. First antenatal appointment scheduled for week 16, one ultrasound scan, saw one of the team midwives for the first time in week 27, so far no discussion of birth choices, parentcraft classes very close to delivery date. On the good side was the low tech and reassuring atmosphere, the normality of pregnancy, the encouragement to find out for myself what I needed to know.

On my short trip to Germany I visited the practice where my pregnancy had been originally confirmed. As is the norm, if you are pregnant, in Germany you see a specialist, an obstetrician. Part of any appointment are numerous tests and the most unpleasant parts of obstetricianity, such as sitting on a chair that cannot but resemble a torturing device, and which facilitates internal check up (which to me are a mild form of torture). I was put onto a foetal heart monitor for 20 minutes, which also monitored contractions I don't actually have. While I truly appreciated all the thorough testing to make sure all is going well (I am a very worried mum-to-be) and cried for joy when seeing cubling again and finding out its gender, I also experienced the downside of it all. While on the monitor, I almost fainted for discomfort. I didn't like lying on my back for 20 minutes, unable to move, subject to electricity being sent to my baby, and to the unhappy kicks right into the device from the inside. I almost fainted, which is a silly and unnecessary thing to do, but my usual reaction to medical instruments and invasive technology (not that the monitor would be considered invasive by any of the staff). What worried me most that at no point was I asked if I was happy for any of these "routine" tests to be carried out - much in contrast to the practice at least at my maternity hospital and GP in the UK.

I've done it, all is very well, cubling is growing well and I'm just a pregnant woman in spite of my slightly higher age. For the rest of my pregnancy, I'm awfully glad to be in the UK, cared for by midwives, NCT volunteers, hypnobirthing practitioners, and to simply get on with having a baby.

Air travel is evil. I am sure of it. We're all being told how heavy a toll it takes on the environment and travel anyhow. Because it's cheap, because we want or need to travel. Living in the northern part of a long and thin and actually very long and thin island (aka the UK) while my family and friends live far enough to make other forms but air travel a real pain in the buttocks, I feel I have at least some sort of a right to occasional trips up high.

That doesn't mean I like it.

I've mentioned this before so won't bore you, but the usual double take of the water of life that gets me through panic attacks at take off and landing are out presently for obvious reasons, so things aren't easy. I was pleasantly surprised though at the lovely sunny day for take off at Prestwick and looking forward to a nice and soft hop across the channel.

Until the pilot attempted to land and failed.

Suddenly all the horror stories of Ryanair are in my mind. Lack of security, untrained pilots, pilots who may not be pilots at all, drunk pilots, rubbish planes, no fuel. And more. At the end of the day, to be fair, it was more the tail of the tornado that ripped through London and was having an away day at Weeze airport just as the plane I happened to be on attempted to land. At that moment, the plane was quite clearly not under anything that would deserve the term of "control" and whoosh, almost touching the tarmac with one wing, up we went again. My heart racing, visions of the day of judgement, I have to admit I even prayed. About two litres of sweat later and half an hour of testing hypnobirthing techniques for relaxations (if they take that long during labour they are rubbish), visions of starting panic induced early labour etc, I was ready to face the unpleasant truth that we would have to try landing again.

We did. Cartside and cubling are still alive. However, I need to fly back on Wednesday. Not a happy camper.

off to Tschörmeni for a short trip. To scrounge a scan and find out if we're having boy or girl. No, of course that is neither the reason for scan or for the trip, but a bit of nosiness (nosyness, noseyness?????) can't be bad. Either I'll have plenty of time to blog while away and catch up on a few posts, or none at all, in which case ... Tschuldigung!

You can watch the news as much as you like, and still be late in finding out what's going on right at your doorstep.

When Liam Byrne visited Glasgow on 26 October this year, he promised a protocol for the removal of refused asylum seeking families, and cooperation with education and health services, in an attempt to calm the outrage caused by large groups of immigration officers breaking into people's homes at the crack of dawn to remove them without prior notice.

The press coverage was split. Some saw the promised protocol as a step in the right direction, even though an amnesty for families who've lived here for many years was outruled (I still don't get why the Home Office so fervently outrule such an amnesty but that's another point). The Herald, however, focused on the fact that there are 1500 refused asylum seekers in Scotland subject to removal and that they will be removed, whether children are involved or not. The implication is that these people are about to be removed.
 
Six weeks later, there is still no protocol, but in the last few days, there have been another 4 dawn raids on families. There has been a protest at the Immigration Centre in Glasgow's Brand Street, organised by the Unity Centre, a union for asylum seekers/refugees. Unfortunately, I still hear about these protests after they happen, so I'm sure protests could be even more effective if more people knew about it sooner. It's hard to spread the word though, there is after all no warning of immanent dawn raids or removals.

It is harder still to find any coverage on the internet, so I'm not quite managing to spread the word on this blog. What I was able to find out is contained in the links in this post.
Indymedia reports on the first of the new dawn raids, on 26th November, which failed because, and this is my interpretation of events, the family to be deported took refuge with a neighbour. BBC reports in a few words about the protest following the two dawn raids on 3rd and 4th December, news of which only reached me a few minutes ago. Both families are said to be detained at Dungavel and due to be deported at the weekend. The protest was called for by the Unity Centre, but as they don't manage an email list of supporters, I would assume that the protest was insignificant because not enough people heard about it in time.

In the meantime, Amnesty and the Refugee Council have started a major campaign on the destitution of asylume seekes, which is not entirely unrelated to the issue of dawn raids. It's another policy induced measure to make applying for asylum unattractive and to discourage people in general from applying for asylum in the UK. The government of course maintains that it only tries to discourage those abusing the system, however, the evidence indicates that this is not worth the paper it is written on.

Seid gegruesst ihr schlaflosen Naechte! Ich muss mich nur gemuetlich in die Federn begeben, und schon faengt Cubling mit der allnaechtlichen Routine des werdenden Thaiboxers an. Ist ja eigentlich ganz amuesant, besonders, wenn der Bauch so richtig auf und ab huepft und frau defmitiv weiss, dass cubling noch lebt und seine Freude hat.
Nicht so spannend, wenn man dann doch irgendwann gerne mal schlafen moechte.
Wiederum scheint auch das Schwangerschaftshandbuch vom wirkliche Leben etwas zu driften. Die liebe Diskussion der idealen Schlaflage scheint einwandfrei von allen drei konsultierten Buechern mit "auf der linken Seite" beantwortet zu werden. Auf dem Ruecken fuehre einerseits zu Schmerzen desselbigen, besonders je schwerer cubling wird. Ausserdem fuehre es zu schlechterer Durchblutung, was natuerlich weder fuer Mama noch fuer Cubling gut sein kann.

Cubling sieht das aber anders. Lege ich mich auf die Seite, geht das Getrete erst richtig los, und richtig schoen runter in die empfindlichen Gegenden. Eindeutige Interpretation: Das passt mir nicht, dreh dich sofort um. Sauerstoff und Blutversorgung hin und her, ich will nicht auf dem Bett liegen. Und so geht das Spiel Stunden weiter. Ich auf der Seite, Tritte, wir gebe nach, drehe mich auf den Ruecken bis selbiger weh tut, wieder auf die Seite, Tritte, etc, unterbrochen von Pippipause und warten auf den Morgen.

Eigentlich recht lustig, wenn man sich nicht vorgenommen haette, bis zum letzten Tag zu arbeiten. Weiss noch nicht so ganz, was mein Chef vom staendigen Gaehnen haelt.

Ganz entgeistert war ich am Wochenende vom ploetzlichen Auftreten von Wasseransammlungen, dicken Fussgelenken, und Haenden, die nicht wirklich greifen wollten. Panik. Ich kann aber Entwarnung geben, meine Gelenke haben sich dem Normalzustand wieder angenaehert und ich fuehle mich nicht mehr wie eine Wasserkanone. Das ist das Gute am Arbeiten - man bewegt sich und das Wasser schwindet von selbst. Der Ausgleich machts... Halbtags waere ideal. Oder jeden 2. Tag arbeiten, haette auch was. Wolln aber nicht klagen, dafuer, dass ich ein echtes Baby bruete, geht's mir blendend.