Thursday night Elaine and I were supposed to go to dance practice. We were
especially excited because two of our friends and their son were visiting from
Europe, and it would have been fun to see them. Friday night we were going to
go to the movies. We hadn't been able to go for a while, and we wanted some
time together. I even decided to turn down a very cool invitation to play laser
tag with some friends so we could have time together. Saturday we were going
to go out with some friends to catch Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.
It was going to be a great three days.
Turns out, what actually happened was far better than I ever could have imagined.
For those of you who don't want all the gory details, I'll give the short version
now, with the long version starting a few paragraphs below. On Friday, December
20th, 2002, at 9:17 AM, my wife Elaine gave birth to our first child, Marcus
Benjamin, at the University of Michigan Hospital. He's 6 pounds, 3 ounces, 19.75
inches long, with a 13.5 inch head. The final transition phase lasted about
one hour and forty five minutes. So far, all the tests show that Marcus is one
very healthy baby (bottom picture). Mother and child are doing great, as shown
in this picture below to the left, as are Dad and son as shown in the picture
on the right. I am so not ready to be a parent. Thank goodness I'm not going
through it alone.
And now, for the long version.
I need to lay some groundwork here, gentle readers. First, while Elaine is
the most important person in this tale, not to mention my life - she is, after
all, the one who actually gave birth - this story is from my point of view.
While I was there, I honestly have no idea how it felt from her perspective,
so I'm going to write it from mine. At this point in time, Marcus has no opinion
on this matter (his thoughts right now consisting of "Mom's breasts full
of food", "pain", "those lights are odd", "sleep
makes me happy", and "oh, I've just learned how to excrete waste"),
so again, this will be the story from my point of view.
Elaine's due date was January 6th, 2003. Those of you well versed in astronomy
will realize that it is a few weeks before that. In my mind, I excepted our
son to be a couple of weeks late, as did Elaine. I also had planned to not really
look at the birth. I didn't like seeing it during Lamaze class, and I particularly
didn't want to see it now. I also didn't want to cut the umbilical cord. Elaine
planned on having an epidural.
We also had planned what we were going to bring with us to the hospital. Hmmm,
what the heck, here is out list (an * means we haven't shopped for that yet).
For Elaine: comfortable robe, nightgown, nursing bra and nursing pads*, nightgown
for nursing*, warm socks, slippers, comfortable outfit to wear home, sanitary
pads, toiletries (such as shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, moisturizer, lip
balm), hair clips, scrunchies, barrettes, hair brush or comb, toothbrush and
toothpaste, books (including Pride and Prejudice, nursing book), and shower
cap. For me: change of clothes, book, toiletries, at least $20 in cash and change
(for snacks, phone calls, and so forth), snacks, camera, watch with a second
hand for timing contractions (Elaine’s), book bag with computer and pens,
and cell phone. For the baby: car seat and base, newborn hat, 2 receiving blankets,
2 "onesies", 2 pairs of socks, "Going home" outfit--including
bunting for the cold weather. diapers and diaper bag, warm fleece for outside,
pacifier, and urp cloths. Papers, consisting of the birth plan, insurance card,
and Elaine's patient advocate document. Extras: extra pillows (2) for Elaine,
food (strawberry cobbler, candy, one bottle water), massage oil/lotion, favorite
tapes or compact discs (Enya, etc.), CD/tape player, cat picture, and extra
washcloths.
We actually had our stuff packed, for the most part, two days before for our
last Lamaze class, and I had it in my trunk, just in case.
Thursday nights are dance practice at the Barony of Cynnabar. Elaine is the
Dance Mistress, and she darn good at it too. This particular Thursday night
I got home from work at about 6:30 PM. I felt pretty good because I had finished
a proposal. I had enough time to eat something and drive us to practice. However,
Elaine said she had cramps, and looking back they probably started around 5
PM. And now the time line begins...
7:00 PM. Elaine calls the hospital to ask them about her cramps - they will
have a nurse call back soon. Her mother suggest that she write down when she
gets them, and they are around five to six minutes apart.
8:10 PM. I drive to dance alone to drop off the CD player so people can have
a practice. Elaine is feeling worse and there is no way she's going to dance
that night. I see our friends from Europe. I say that maybe Elaine is in labor,
but we don't really know.
8:30 PM. I get back home. Elaine is still having the cramps, around four to
five minutes apart, last 55 to 60 seconds. We call the hospital again. They
are incredibly busy with people having babies, and will have a nurse or doctor
call back soon. We are on the list.
8:40 PM. I panic a little. She probably isn't in labor, but what if she is?
I throw some snacks in my book bag, and an extra book. I tried to figure out
what else we needed, and packed that too.
8:55 PM. Wait, the car seat. Elaine's car had the ones friends loaned us, so
I got the new one and put that in my car.
9:10 PM. I look over at Elaine and she is really in a ton of pain. "That's
it," I decide, "We are going to the hospital." I'm thinking it
is false labor. I mean, we aren't due for over two weeks yet, right?
9:35 PM. We get to the hospital. They really are busy, and have us wait in
the lounge. Elaine's cramps are about four minutes apart, lasting 55 to 65 seconds.
11:05 PM. They bring us to and examination room. Elaine changes into a hospital
gown so they can check her out.
11:10 PM. Elaine is hooked up to a monitor that is measuring her contractions.
A picture of this is shown below. I could tell exactly how much pain she was
in by the level on the graph. I'm such a geek. I could also tell by her reaction,
but I had to look at the graph. Note the 'threshold of pain' line at 20%. Below
that she was okay. Above that she wasn't doing good at all. It helped to rub
her lower back during those times, but not much.
11:15 PM. A doctor shows up and they talk about what she is feeling and all
that. Basically, the doctor says she needs to check her cervix. If it is 4 cm
apart, she gets a free night at the hospital because she's giving birth. If
it is 2 cm or so, they'll have us walk around and see what happens. The doctor
puts her hand down there and measures...then measures again, "Five centimeters!"
What? Five?? Holy crap, we are going to have a baby!
11:22 PM. This is about when I freaked out. We aren't ready to have a child
now. I guess it isn't false labor. Did we pack everything? We aren't ready!
At least soon Elaine won't be in pain anymore. I'm going to be a father. We
aren't ready yet! I guess I'm not going to be at work tomorrow. The baby room
isn't done, and we haven't finished shopping yet! Epidural. Got to get Elaine
the epidural.
11:25 PM. A room opens up and we are moved to a birthing room. These rooms
are great. A nice bed, television, full bathroom with shower. A fridge and freezer.
And, of course, more monitors, some for Elaine, and some for the baby. From
that point on, we could hear the baby's heartbeat. That sound was very comforting.
This is when we found out we had forgotten to pack the patient advocate forms.
11:27 PM. I run out to move the car. It had been parked in the drop off area.
We were given a tag to put on the dashboard so it wouldn't be towed. But now
I had to put in the main lot. While I was doing this I made some phone calls.
I called Patrick and let him know that it was happening and asked him to take
care of something for me at work. I called Marilee and asked her to get
Arbeau to the vet for his 2 PM appointment so his neck tube could be removed.
And, of course, I called Elaine's parents and my parents to let them know what
was happening. Elaine's parents were excited and were going to come out for
a bit. My parents were exited too, and wished they could be here. I parked the
car, grabbed the suitcase and bag of pillows, and went back to our room.
11:45 PM. I got back, almost running. They needed me to hold Elaine when they
put the epidural in, so if I weren't there when they were ready, they'd wait.
That wouldn't be good.
Midnight. It is now Friday. Elaine's contractions are two minutes apart. The
pain is getting much worse. They put an IV in her, at the top of her hand (ick).
It was tough, and hurt quite a bit, but nothing compared to the contractions.
12:20 AM. The epidural is in. Yay drugs!!! It was quite the procedure. They
had about four other people in the room, and had to put the needle in her back
and move it all around until it was in just the right stop. Elaine said it hurt,
but it was a focused pain, unlike the contractions, and in an odd way preferable.
I got to hold her shoulders and remind her not to move and help keep her in
the right position. She was amazing - she didn't move or flinch at all.
12:35 AM. The drugs start working on Elaine. She has contractions and barely
feels them. The graph is way above the line of pain, but she is okay. She is
on her back and can actually rest a bit.
12:40 AM. Elaine's parents come in the room to visit. They were here earlier,
but couldn't come in until things calmed down. We were very glad they were there,
it helped Elaine a lot.
12:55 AM. Since Elaine was feeling little pain, and her parents where here,
I took the time to go hunting. I had eating some dinner, but my mind and body
were quite stressed. Elaine was only allowed to have water, and she had the
IV. I wasn't sure when I'd be allowed to eat next, so, a-hunting I went. I found
some cereal and milk. It took me two minutes to wolf down two bowls, and then
I was back with Elaine. We had tapes we could have played for background music,
but we realized only now that we didn't have the CD player with us! Oh well.
1:05 AM. The baby's heart rate was low. They put Elaine on Oxygen and had her
lay on her side. After a while, the baby was fine.
1:30 AM. Elaine's parents leave to go home. We promise to call them if we know
when the baby will arrive. They may as well sleep at home and get some rest!
1:50 AM. I read a little bit of Pride and Prejudice to Elaine. During the time
we also try to get a little bit of rest, but it is tough.
2:30 AM. Doctors and nurses have been in and out all evening. This doctor checks
her cervix again, and now it is at 6 cm. Slow, but progress. Or maybe not. It
isn't an exact science, since they use their fingers to measure the gap. Since
little progress has been made, they give her some drugs to speed it along -
it is a drug that the brain produces, so it will have no ill effects on her
or the baby.
3:15 AM. It think we both fell asleep. We were woken up to the sound a woman
down the hall screaming the top of her lungs. It was horrid and scary! Later
we found out that she wasn't on any drugs, and it was a painful birth. Fortunately
both her and her child were fine. Elaine and I look at each other. We hope that
the pain isn't nearly as bad for her. We keep hearing the baby's heartbeat,
and that is really all we hear in the night. It was quite soothing. In the dark
with that sound, it was kinda like being a womb, though with a lot less water
and a lot more space.
4:20 AM. I woke up. Elaine's water had just broke. Huzzah! She now has more
tubes in her than Little Arbeau.
4:40 AM. For a while, they couldn't find the baby's heartbeat! They got Elaine
on her side and kept looking. The baby is much lower now, and it is a much louder
sound from the monitor. We try to rest some more. My chair is not comfortable,
mainly because I'm an idiot and don't figure out until tomorrow that it does,
in fact, recline all the way back.
5:30 AM. Her cervix is at 9.5 cm wide!!!! Tons of progress, and the doctor
said, "Woah, there's a baby there!" It shouldn't be long now.
6:35 AM. I continue to be helpful.
Me: Need to push yet?
Elaine: No.
Me: How about now?
Elaine: Someone is pushing...
6:40 AM. Elaine only has a slight urge to push during her contractions. They
don't add to her epidural so that it will start letter her feel them more.
She'll still have something for the pain, but she needs to be able to feel more
during the actual procedure.
7:00 AM. The staff changes, and we get a whole new crew of nurses and doctors.
7:32 AM. Elaine gets the first urge to push, so of course there are no major
contractions. The nurse there is helping her along, though, and she eventually
does get contractions. The nurse there is very helpful, and talks Elaine through
how to push, when to push, and what she is trying to accomplish. Basically,
during the contractions she needs to, um, well, pretend she is having a bowel
movement, and push that way. If she does well, the nurse will start to see the
crown of the baby's head. Just a thin line, and when Elaine stops pushing it
will got back into the womb. Eventually, though, the baby's head will stay there,
and that is when things get exciting. We are official in the transition, or
final phase of the labor.
8:00 AM (or so). I'm trying not to look. I look at Elaine, hold her hand, and
with the nurse urge Elaine to push very hard at certain times. Things are progressing.
At times I peek and don't see any baby but I see things moving. Afterwards,
Elaine says that it hurts, maybe worse than the original contractions without
the epidural, but at least she could do something now, she could push through
the pain so to speak, and knew that it would be over. At one point to help with
the baby's heartbeat, Elaine was laying on her side. I held her leg up for a
while until they got a bar in while she pushed. I guess I was holding up my
end.
8:40 AM (or so). I couldn't help it. I glanced all the way over. I saw a sliver
of milky white skin and hair through Elaine's slit. That was the baby. I hate
to admit this, but I felt faint and queasy. I had to steady myself while still
holding onto Elaine and talking to her. I honestly thought I might pass out.
The funny thing is, after that, I was totally fine. I watched the whole thing!
I didn't have to turn away, I could really see Elaine's progress, and at the
end, I watched the baby come out.
8:50 AM (or so). It is a go! The baby is in the right position, and they called
the Doctor in. The breakdown the bottom part of the bed, pull the stirrups out,
and call in a lot of people. The birthward is, in fact, quite busy, and our
doctor gets paged away to check on another patent. Apparently four women are
going into this final stage at the same time. Our Doctor never comes back, but
another takes her place. A second Doctor is the one who is right in front of
Elaine and handling the birthing process. She has laryngitis, so she can't speak
except in whispers. For some reason whenever she speaks, people respond in whispers,
so for the most part we are all mainly gesturing and using whispers to communicate!
We couldn't stop laughing at this. Well, except for Elaine, who was a bit busy.
At one point they had Elaine touch the crown of the baby's head, which really
surprised her and helped her to continue.
They have to perform an Episiotomy on her to expand the space at the outlet.
I see them - yes, I actually watched the whole thing, remember? - place this
huge needle into my wife to numb the area so they can start cutting. I see the
tools they use. I see the blood everywhere. Keep pushing, Elaine. A lot more
of the baby's head is visible.
Then, all of the sudden, the head pops out of Elaine's body, covered in muck
and goo, dripping stuff all over and looking like the Alien from those Segourney
Weaver movies. They have her stop pushing at this point because some fluids
got loose that they need to clean. I have no idea what the fluid was. That was
quickly done and they had her push, and I saw the shoulders appear...
9:17 AM. ...and the baby just slips right out as fast as can be in the doctor's
arms. They cut the cord, and I'm quite happy to have them do so. I watched them
cut it, and about 10 minutes before hand I knew I could have cut it if I wanted
to, but ... honestly ... it wasn't important. Even now I have no regrets. They
don't want the baby to breath yet cause of some other fluid (or maybe the same
one) that they don't want him to inhale. Not a big deal, probably, but they
had two other people to take care of that.
Which they did. And they cleaned the baby off and gave him to Elaine. Definitely
a boy! I don't quite remember all that happened after that. We held Marcus a
lot, and I watched as they sewed up my wife. Did I think he was cute? Sorry,
not now. I very much loved (and love!) my son, but no, to me he wasn't quite.
At least he wasn't covered in white anymore. He also didn't cry all that much.
I hear that will change in a week or so...
The rest if kind of a blur. Elaine did a lot of breast feeding, and the nurses
were a lot of help. They brought her meals and kept removing tubes. I had to
hunt for my own food, and eventually found the Wendy's and had a big meal. I
held Marcus quite a bit. Elaine's parents where there for a couple of hours
after the birth, and we had some visitors here and there. Below is Elaine's
Mom holding Marcus.
Since things were going well, we decided that I should take Little Arbeau to
the vet myself. My friends were more than happy to do so, but he probably would
have run away. If Elaine wasn't fine I wouldn't have gone, but since things
were great, I did. I went home. I grabbed her birthing gift that I hadn't even
wrapped yet (I am glad that it at least arrived). I got Arbeau, who did *not*
want to go to the vet. Petting Pythag, we left.
I should say this now. The Washtenaw Veterinary Hospital is fantastic. The
doctors and staff are great, and I really think are Doctor is the best. They
love Pythag and Arbeau, and she has caught every bad problem with him and made
the right decisions. I made the 2 PM appointment and our Doctor decided that
yes, he really was fine, and she took out the esophagus tube. So now the poor
little guy had a hole in his neck, but that was it, he's done! He's still eating
a lot, very active, and well, back to normal. Woo hoo!
After dropping off Arbeau at home I ran to work to get my computer. It was
nice seeing people there, and I actually did a bit of work (talking to people)
for the ten minutes I was there. Not to shabby!
I think I made it back to the hospital and Elaine before 4 PM. I'm not sure
what else happened that is important or relevant. We did watch Firefly, and
it is a shame that the show is being cancelled.
We both slept quite a bit last night. I think I got more because, well, I didn't
have to feed him. At least I figured out how to recline the chair all the way,
that helped!
At 11 AM today (Saturday)we had a class, and afterwards they did the final
tests. And I have to admit, he was cute at least twice today, very cute! The
first time was when he had his hearing test. I found it adorable to see all
those electrodes sticking out of his head and a probe in his ear while he was
asleep. I guess it is the geek in me. The second time is shown below, when we
had him all bundled up to go home. I couldn't help it, he was cute!
We are home now, and there is so much still to do, and it is too early, and
we are not ready. Doesn't really matter. I love my family. Live never returns
to normal. It never is normal, and it is always exciting.
Arbeau is home!!! He has an Esophagus tube in his neck, but he's all sewn up
and very happy.
To commemorate the occasion (and to celebrate the new camera we got), I've
taken some pictures.
First we have Elaine, with the Poor Little Guy, back from the hospital. Elaine
is looking pretty good!!!
This is a close up of Little Arbeau. Note the tube jutting painfully
out of his neck.
This is Pythagoras, who isn't happy with Arbeau being home.
Pythag is upset because he had me and Elaine all to himself, like
this below. See how content he is?
The holiday season is coming up, and I’m way behind.
Not that I have much to do. I don’t send out holiday cards. I did that for a few years and just didn’t like doing it – it wasn’t me.
I do like getting people gifts, though. Fortunately, Elaine and I don’t hand them out until the traditional Twelfth Night event or so. That means we still have time. However, we haven’t even finish our list yet, let alone checking it twice for terrorist activity.
I still have prep to do for the baby, and no time to do that. I’ll have to make the time, somehow. Along with that I want to fix up the wall edges so the wall paper doesn’t get damaged, and I want to finish putting together the eight bookshelves that are sitting in boxes in our basement.
The Middle Kingdom Exchequer Domesday needs to go out right after the New Year, which means I have to start addressing envelopes as soon as possible. I’m not behind yet, but that is looming over my head. It will probably be my last one, which is nice. I also wanted to figure out if there is anyway people can enter the information electronically. They still need to print it out, but it would make my job at the end much easier.
I always have a ton of work to do every holiday season. We write Small Business Innovative Research grants, and while I can’t say how many I write, I can tell you that last round I won two, which is quite good. Winning just one is a job well done. They are due in the middle of January, which means I have to have them complete by around January 3rd, which means I’m doing a lot of writing at work now.
A lot of writing.
So, I have plenty of things to do over the holiday, when I’m supposed to be on vacation.
Still, I’m quite happy. I’d always rather have too much to do than too little. Having a fun job is great, and I like my SCA office – number crunching, to me, is fun!
Best of all, Elaine and I throw a New Year’s Eve party, so we get to see a lot of our friends, even if they just stop by for an hour or so. I usually get drunk, and quite often there is a blizzard.
So, during my inebriated state, with snow falling down like we are on the verge of Ragnorak, and with all my friends around partying with me in the middle of the night, is the exact time I expect Elaine to go into labor.
Excitement is a wonderful thing.
Scene: Late last night, after both Elaine and Chuck are in bed. Before that, for fifteen minutes, Chuck had been looking for Arbeau with no success. Arbeau was with Elaine earlier, but wasn’t there now, and Chuck had looked all over the house with no luck.
Elaine: Where do you think Arbeau is?
Chuck: I have no idea. Pythag is in his bed [the guest bedroom], though.
Time passes.
Pythag: Hiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chuck: Ah, Arbeau is back in the bedroom!
Elaine: Poor little guy.
Arbeau had been home for a week. He came back with a tube leading to his intestines, five medicines to take through the tube (two antibiotics, steroids, anti nausea medicine, and errr, something else we still don’t know), and a perky attitude. We also had food to feed him through his tube, as he still wasn’t eating.
Whenever Pythag sniffs Arbeau, he hisses and runs away. Sigh.
After two days he managed to get the tube party out of his body. Elaine and I did what all parents would do: we panicked. I left a message with the hospital, and we decided to stop giving him stuff through the tube.
An hour later it fell completely out of his side. I’m telling you, it was an odd site seeing Arbeau jet around the ceiling like a balloon whose opening isn’t tied off.
Actually, nothing happened. No leaking or anything, just a much happier guy. Our hospital doctor told us to bring him in to the vet to see how he was doing on Monday. Good news though, on Saturday he started drinking water, and has continued doing that. A lot of water. As much as Pythagoras drinks.
Arbeau has even started to even eat some food (from his nose, or tuna juice). He hasn’t eaten a lot, and even turned up his nose at Kentucky Fried Chicken.
On Monday (sorry that this paragraph didn’t start with the letter ‘A’) we noticed that he had a descended abdomen. Those are the Doctor’s words. My words would have been that his belly is hanging down low on one side and Arbeau doesn’t like it when we touch him.
So on Tuesday when I brought him to our Vet, she said that he really needs to be eating more or his liver could get bad again, and that the little guy might have a hernia. I guess it runs in the family, as I had a hernia operation last year. The good news is that his liver seems to be doing well, and all his other levels, except for the white cell count, were great.
I took him to the hospital today. The Doctor wanted to get a quick ultrasound of his belly where the hernia was. As she carried him off I noticed lots of brown liquid coming from around his belly. The area there had ruptured spewing forth puss, which explains the high white blood cell count. All I could think was, “Thank goodness I’m at the hospital when that happened!”
He has a localized infection and a hernia. Otherwise, though, he really is doing great. He’s in surgery now where they’ll take care of all that. They are also going to put in an esophagus tube (yes, in his neck, ick) so we can give him his medicine for the month he needs, and food until he eats.
Poor little guy.
I’ll update this page if there is anything wrong with the surgery. If things go fine, he should be home tomorrow or Friday.
Generally, I’m a happy go lucky guy. I like to see the best in people; so much so, that I have a difficult time seeing the bad. I expect the best things to happen, and never see the worst coming.
Something happened recently that has started to change how I view things.
I really don’t want to change how I view the world. It is much more pleasant to think people like you and don’t want to hurt you, that you are safe no matter where you go, and that things will always turn out okay.
But my outlook has changed.
Even worse, I’m starting to believe that some of the actions that President Bush is taking are correct.
And that, my friends, scares me to my bones.
You see, earlier this week I was in Florida at the 23rd Army Science Conference. While the conference was just okay for me, the talks were spectacular. Specifically, two of the talks on Monday really made me think.
The Keynote address was by General John M. Keane, the Vice Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army. He talked about September 11th and what he saw that day and the days following. He talked about what the armed forces was doing now. He talked about where the Army (and the rest of the armed services) needed to be in about eight years, and how all of us researchers could help. The whole nature of war seems to have changed. The way the United States invaded Iraq during Desert Storm uses doctrine that really hasn’t changed since war began: more and better troops taking a large amount of territory in standard formations. In the beginning, that is, before WW I, tactics couldn’t change much because our forces couldn’t see what was over the hill. You had to send scouts and the like. After aircraft, you could see more and more over the hill. With satellites and other systems, we can finally see even more, and plan and react accordingly without committing tons of troops in direct assaults. I swear he seemed to be telling us how they were going to handle the war in Iraq. And yes, after that meeting, I’m 98% certain we will be having one. But not because of Saddam or oil or anything like that.
The other speaker I really admired was right after General Keane’s talk. It was the Honorable Claude M. Bolton, Jr., Assistant Secretary of the Army for Acquisition, Logistics, and Technology. He is one of those folks, like Gen. Keane, who is the best of the best of the best, and makes me feel like I’ve done very little in my career. Let’s see. He’s managed foreign military sales programs in over 80 countries totally over $90 billion. He was a pilot in the Air Force, with 2,700 flying hours in more than 30 different aircraft. During Vietnam he had over 232 combat missions, 40 over North Vietnam. He was the test pilot for the F-4, F-111, and the F-16, and was the first program manager for the F-22. Etc., etc., etc.
Mr. Bolton was amazing. Since, in his words, he had a lot of time on his hands, he tried to figure out how our current military spending compares to that of the past. Specifically, he asked when was the last time the U.S. spent 2% of the GNP on defense (that is, all the armed forces). That is what we are doing now, and have been for a few years. The answers are scary: 1913, and 1939. That’s right, the last times in history that we were at 2% (the lowest) spending for the military for about five to ten years, we were immediately followed by a world war.
That is not a pleasant thought.
The spending during WW II reached around 40% of the GNP. After WW II, we had a number of other wars, large and small, but overall we were under the Cold War, and the percentages fluctuated between ten and twenty five percent. After Desert Storm, we inched our way back down to two percent. Based on history, he is really afraid for the future. He is very sure that Iraq isn’t the big war. He implied that something would happen around 2010. You know, 8 years from now.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since hearing these two talks and talking to other people, and putting things together, and these thoughts terrify me. Eight years from now is when most of the baby boomers retire. I’ve had stock analysts tell me that when that happens, the country will be in a recession that will be far worse than the dot.com bust. In other words, the U.S. will be at a very low point economically. The military seems to know this and is trying to prepare.
I think the rest of the world knows it too, and is also preparing.
Here is a scary scenario. I have no idea it is correct. Heck, Tom Clancy is better at predicting this stuff, but here goes. China really wants Taiwan. They are having the Olympics in Beijing in 2008, so nothing will happen until then. But afterwards, say, when the world’s remaining superpower is at its weakest, what if they just took it back? And what if they have a viable space program with missiles that can reach anywhere in the world? We would have to respond, right?
Now, the USSR, I mean, Russia, and China have not really gotten along. However, two years ago they signed a treaty friendship with each other. Guess how long that lasts? Twenty years. The half way point is 2010 again. Russia won’t interfere.
China doesn’t like that we are hanging out in the Far East areas (just like the U.S. doesn’t like other countries interfering in the western hemisphere). The general feeling is that they want to do something about it. One way is to take Taiwan back. Another is to cut off our oil in the Middle East. A third would be to threaten us with long range nuclear missiles. If the world is lucky, none of these things will happen – heck, the Berlin Wall came down, so anything could happen. However, it is best to be prepared.
That is why I’m starting to understand why our current administration is doing what it is doing. If we start now, we can set up oil drilling in the Alaska wildlife preserve and have oil flowing to us in five years (that is, no earlier than 2008). With that oil, we are assured of not being seriously hurt if we loose access to Mid East oil. Yes, I know we could also develop better and different fuel technologies – but none of them are guaranteed to pan out in any reasonable time frame.
I understand why Bush is pushing for his father’s Star Wars missile defense program. The amazing thing is that it is starting to work. The Missile Defense Agency (formerly BMDO, formerly MDO, formerly…um…I have no idea) is shooting down test missiles in controlled experiments. However, every few months the experiments get less controlled and more battle ready. Heck, I read in CNN that they have lasers now that can shoot down artillery. How long before such devices are on board our Navy ships?
We are building up and preparing for events far beyond those of Iraq, and even this war on terrorism.
This is why I am not so happy go lucky now. I have a glimmer of what is over the hill, and I don't like what I see. I now understand why the upcoming Iraqi war is only partly about Iraq and Saddam and oil. I think it is also about training our military, testing our systems, equipment, and intelligence, and getting prepared for 2010.
My son will be seven years old. I hope we are ready.