This article touches on my own horrible treatment by a Naval OB when it came to my oldest son’s birth, the current terrible situation a dear friend has been put in by this paternalistic system, the current legal state surrounding these issues, and resources.

Denial of Informed Consent
My Story

In 2010 when my oldest son was born, I was a U.S. Marine on active duty (I am a reservist now).  Initially, I hadn’t considered homebirth.  I had, however, done a significant amount of research on childbirth and the medical interventions that sometimes accompanied it.  A very close relative suffered permanent damage from an epidural and forceps delivery – damage which, more than a decade later, was still evident.

I determined, based on my own research, which included medical journals, mainstream publications, and consultations with medical and non-medical birth professionals – and with several women who had given birth in various ways – that, so long as my pregnancy continued uncomplicated and healthy, I did not want any interventions during labor and delivery.

As an attorney, I was well aware of my right to refuse any unwanted medical intervention.  Or, I thought I was.  Then I informed the obstetricians at Naval Hospital Beaufort (NHB) of my desire to labor and deliver without drugs or intervention.  I was told in no uncertain terms that such a decision was not up to me.  The head of section at the time told me to my face that HE would decide what interventions were performed on me and my son.  When I offered to provide a written Birth Plan detailing my desire for an intervention free birth, complete with medical citations, he told me such a document was all but worthless, as he would be making the decisions based on what he thought was best, not on what I wanted.

When I then informed him that I would not consent to any interventions (outside of an emergency), he told me I didn’t have to consent to them.  He told me, expressly, to my face, that he would not honor my right to refuse unwanted interventions.

And since my body belonged to the U.S. Government at that point in time, there was essentially nothing I could do about it.

When discussing individual interventions (in hopes of making a little headway), I told him I didn’t want pitocin.  He informed me that I would have an IV, and whatever drugs he or any of the other OBs decided were necessary would be fed through it regardless of what I said.  Just so we’re clear, injecting someone with drugs against their will is battery.  So my OB, who was supposed to be helping me through childbirth, threatened me with battery.  And even for all the noise I made about it, the military was totally fine with it.

End result: I chose homebirth.  In my case, I was 100% confident that homebirth with a Certified Professional Midwife and a Certified Nurse Midwife, was the safer option for me.  With the care of these two amazing professionals (and my husband, of course), I gave birth to my happy, healthy baby boy in my own bedroom at home.  There were no complications, and not a single person attempted to force me to undergo unnecessary and unwanted cutting, drugging, immobilization, etc.

My insurance at the time was Tricare Prime – the insurance all active duty servicemembers carry.  I was ascertained from Tricare’s publications that Tricare Prime would cover the cost of a homebirth.  This fact was affirmed by several Tricare representatives.  But, of course, there was one giant catch:  In order for Tricare to pay for the homebirth, my assigned Military Treatment Facility (MTF), NHB, had to approve it.  To be more specific, the very doctor who had frightened me into a homebirth, the one who had threatened me to my face and told me I didn’t have a right to informed consent, got to make the decision about whether my insurance would cover the cost of my birth.

And, of course, NHB denied my request.  This launched many, many months of struggle attempting to obtain a just result.  It took months to even get ANYTHING in writing from NHB, and when I got it, the letter stated that the decision of whether or not to permit me to give birth anywhere other than the hospital my OB chose (which was Beaufort Memorial Hospital since NHB’s birth center had already been shut down amidst some scary rumors) was solely up to my OB.  The OB that threatened me.

To be clear: THE DECISION OF WHERE AND HOW TO GIVE BIRTH WAS HIS, NOT MINE.

Because I was a servicemember, because I was a Marine, I did not have a say in my own birth.  And to punish me for exercising my own right to protect myself and my baby from unnecessary and unwanted bodily harm, I would have to pay for my positive birth experience out of my own pocket.

I appealed it to the hospital, but got no response.  I was granted a congressional inquiry, but all that resulted in was another copy of the original letter from the hospital.  I should point out that the materials I provided them with to request consideration were 16 pages long and included both legal and medical justification and citations.  What I got in return was a one page insult.

I eventually managed to appeal it up to the Navy Bureau of Medicine (BUMED) Inspector General’s (IG’s) Office.  After a time, this resulted in a conference call wherein I was told the behavior of the OB was completely out of line, what happened to me was very unfortunate, and the Navy was not going to do one single thing about it.  I requested the decision in writing.  Guess what?  Denied.  They wouldn’t even provide me with anything in writing in response.

So, after more than a year, I gave up.  And the desire to have another child was part of what drove me off of active duty.  I couldn’t risk having to go through all that again.  (Did I mention how horribly I was treated by the head nurse at all my post-partum appointments?  Or the fact that they were outright mean to my midwife when she dropped off the required cord blood samples – which they then failed to properly store AT THE LAB, and they were destroyed?).

It was worth it in the end, though, because I got this:

That was all a long time ago.  Why bring it up now?  Because the nonsense of targeting any childbirth outside of the medicalized routine continues.

Bullying Providers
Savannah Midwifery

One of the wonderful midwives who attended my homebirth was GeorgAnna Wiley.  She was amazing.  I wish I had more precise words to describe what an incredible caregiver she was for me.  She and Nicole Lavallee knew exactly what I needed at every moment along the way, and guided me brilliantly through the birth.  GeorgAnna in particular talked me through the actual pushing (while Nicole caught the baby) with such skill that I harbor very fond memories of that moment and was quite heartbroken that we lived too far away to use her services when my second son was born.  About a week ago, I saw this story from her organization, Savannah Midwifery (the full text is available here):

[…] I have worked hard to serve hundreds of families over the past 6 years.  I strive to make homebirth a supported, affordable option and worked hard as a change agent facing much opposition to earn respect from the medical community here. I truly try to make the world a better place by safeguarding gentle birth, offering a holistic approach with evidence-based natural methods, facilitating uninterrupted bonding and breastfeeding, empowering women, […]

On October 8th, 2015, I received a letter from Tricare South stating they had made an overpayment to Savannah Midwifery. Upon discussing with Tricare South and Humana representatives, the American College of Nurse Midwives (ACNM), and other homebirth CNMs (licensed Certified Nurse Midwives), it appears that Tricare adjusted their fee schedule (what determines the amount they pay per service provided) for homebirth services in 2015 and ascertained that they overpaid all homebirth CNMs. Tricare identifies “manual processing errors [by] PGBA (the subcontractor who processes claims)” as the reason for the overpayments. There is no statute of limitations for Tricare, so the refund request involves all Tricare families I served in the past 6 years – totaling $22,670.39.

[My billing service] submitted the bills and billed appropriately [for births] as well as itemized fees for other services rendered, such as pap smears, newborn resuscitation, lactation assistance, etc., which Tricare has decided they should not have paid. I submitted an appeal […] and was told the CNMs affected would need to file a class action lawsuit.  ACNM states they do not have the financial resources for a class action lawsuit. If I am unable to refund Tricare the full amount, this debt will be referred to a collection agency, and result in seizure and subsequent sale of my assets (and likely bankruptcy).  The overpayment amount is accruing interest as well.

It is therefore with great remorse that I must bill previous Tricare clients for the difference in what Tricare paid versus my fee, according to their signed contracts.  If I am unable to recoup the funds, I will be forced to close Savannah Midwifery, preventing me from serving other families and helping them have empowering birth options.

I apologize for the inconvenience of this and am truly sorry that this situation doesn’t have a better resolution. Thank you for your continued support of Savannah Midwifery. I welcome open discussion of this matter. Please don’t hesitate to call or email me with questions. I’m so very sorry for all this mess.

So, essentially, Tricare cut what they were willing to pay for Midwife care, then failed to appropriately adjust their accounting, and now Tricare is using their own mistake to force midwives out of practice.

If you would like to contribute to Savannah Midwifery, you can do so here:

Legal State of Birth Choices for Servicewomen

In a word – iffy.  (I can think of more colorful words, too – after all, I am a Marine).

Let me start by pointing out the difference between being a pregnant servicemember and being the pregnant dependent of a servicemember:  A pregnant dependent (ie, the wife of a Marine) has the option of switching from Tricare Prime to Tricare Standard.  Under Tricare Standard, no “approval” from an MTF provider is required to allow the pregnant woman to choose her birth location (within certain perimeters).  Pregnant dependents have a CHOICE.  Yes, if they run into a paternalistic OB like mine who refuses to approve their decision of a birth center or midwife assisted homebirth, they will have to change insurances and pay a bit of a deductible, BUT THEY HAVE A CHOICE.  If a servicemember’s wife is threatened by her OB, she can go elsewhere.

Servicemembers cannot switch to Tricare Standard.  A pregnant servicemember who wanted to have a say in her own birth (when faced with an OB who feels his ego is more important than, say, the right to refuse unnecessary and unwanted bodily intrusions), would have to purchase an entire new health insurance policy or simply pay for the birth out of pocket (like I and many others did).

If this pings your constitutionality meter, there might just be a reason:

UNCONSTITUTIONAL SEX DISCRIMINATION AGAINST THE CHILDREN OF ACTIVE DUTY MILITARY MOTHERS

In a heartbreaking case (though sadly not the only one of its kind), Air Force Captain Heather Oritz gave birth in an MTF.  Due entirely to malpractice by the medical staff, her child was born with severe brain damage.  When she attempted to sue to cover the lifelong medical expenses her severely disabled child would face due to the actions of the military medical staff, a California court found that because the original injury perpetrated by the military medical staff was to Capt Oritz’s body, even though it directly caused the brain damage to her child, the government could not be held liable because the injury was “service connected.”

Bet you didn’t know that severe disability of your newborn (your nonservicemember newborn) during childbirth was a service connected injury, did you?

In November of last year, Harvard Law’s Bill of Health bloggers Alex Stein and Dov Fox filed an amicus brief urging the Supreme Court to hear the case of Capt Ortiz and her baby. The case is No. 15-488 Ortiz v. U.S. ex rel. Evans Army Community Hospital.  “Professors Fox and Stein urge the Court to overturn the Tenth Circuit’s holding that the federal government’s immunity against liability for intramilitary torts extends to wrongful injuries like those sustained by Major Ortiz’s baby. They argue that this holding misinterprets the immunity, misapplies the Federal Tort Claims Act (FTCA), and constitutes no less than unconstitutional sex discrimination.” (citation)

Their amicus brief presents these questions:

1. When government negligence injures the child of an active-duty mother, does the Federal  Tort Claims Act allow that child to bring birth-injury claims against the federal government,  as the Fourth, Eighth, and Eleventh Circuits have held, or should the Feres doctrine be  expanded to bar a child’s birth-injury claim, as the Tenth Circuit has held?

2. Does treating birth-injury claims of the children of active-duty military mothers differently than the children of active-duty military fathers constitute unconstitutional gender  discrimination?

BIRTH INJURIES ARE MORE LIKELY IN MILITARY TREATMENT FACILITIES

The post Military Homebirth: An Attack on Informed Consent appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

Rad and I attended Harvard Law School’s Just Food? Forum.  It was so interesting and fun and left me with a whole new list of prospective projects – all of which need to fall behind the project I’m working on with a professor friend of mine.

In addition to my full time job, the university fellowship I’m in, and my Marine Corps reserve duties, I have also been an adjunct law professor since the beginning of the year.  April was the last month of classes for the semester.  With 4 jobs for the last 4 months, I’ve been spending every spare second with the family.

Flintstone got hit in the face with a ball and lost three teeth in the front (the straggler in the picture as since come out).  He has an adorable gappy new smile.

I spoke about urban livestock at the Detroit Food Policy Council Summit.  I also did 6 million other things that I have no inclination to list out here.

This guy decided he really, really wants to eat food even though he’s not six months yet.  Enter Baby-Led Weaning (BLW).  Don’t be mislead by the title, Rad is not actually weaning in any way.  Until around 6 months, he’s still getting 100% of his nutrition from breastmilk, but he sure as heck likes this new teether!  (Don’t worry, he is watched VERY closely when he has something like this, and he doesn’t have any teeth yet, so it’s very unlikely that he will get any pieces off).

Punky is very much like I was at her age – buried in books all the time.  She also remains a dedicated Whovian.  And a dedicated pre-teen.

Aaaaaaaaaannnd then – even though I was too busy to think straight, I decided to spend a whole day in bed.  Of course, that was because I could not stand up without terrible results.

But even though I haven’t been writing about it, I am still the Urban Earthworm.  I’ve developed several new recipes.  We’ve been out foraging.  I have a major food justice project in the works, but if it comes to fruition, it won’t be for another year or two.

My next project (maybe I’ll get a post up about it?  Ha! We’ll see):

There is a HUGE crop of garlic mustard along our back fence.  I’m thinking pesto!

The post And April Whooshes Past appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

NOTE: These chickens were not gifts for the kids.  We rescued them as fully grown hens.

The reasons to avoid Easter pets in favor of some of the alternatives listed below are numerous, but first, indulge me in a moment of 90’s nostalgia:

Joey Tribbiani sits in his living room watching TV.  A newscaster appears, stating (accurately) that “some people insist on giving live chicks as presents. Unfortunately, the sad fact remains that most of these guys won’t live to see the 4^th of July due to improper care.”  Joey immediately dials up a pet store, asking whether they carry baby chicks because “I was watching this commercial on TV, and man, those things are cute!”

After presenting the chick to Chandler, the burdens of chick care become a clear strain on their friendship, inciting bickering about who has gotten up at night with the chick and who has stayed home from work to care for her.  Ultimately, the two decide to surrender the baby to a shelter, only to discover that this puts little Yasmine at a very real risk of euthanasia.  Chandler returns home from the shelter with not only their baby chick, but a duck someone else surrendered as well.

While all this is presented in a humorous and campy manner, the issues it highlights are very real, right down to the fact that ultimately they are forced to surrender the animals when little Yasmine grows up to be a rooster.

Consider This:

Before adopting a live animal to hide among the synthetic grass in your child’s Easter basket this year, give some serious thoughts to the following considerations.

WHAT LESSON WILL YOU TEACH?

Presenting a child with a pet they are not capable of caring for and you are not willing to care for in the long term sends very negative messages about responsibility, consequences, and the value of life.

How will it affect your child should your new pet die from improper care?  What does it say about love, caring, and responsibility if you abandon your new pet to a shelter within a year?

Living creatures are not disposable.

If you are not accustomed to keeping pets, have not done extensive research on the care necessary, and are not ready to commit up to 20 years to the care of a new companion animal, then bunnies, chicks, and ducks are not for you.  Check out the great alternatives below!

CARE REQUIREMENTS

Speaking of the level of care necessary, did you know that domesticated rabbits, ducks, and chickens cannot survive in the wild?  Pet rabbits should not even be kept outdoors.  They should live in the house with the family, just like a cat or dog.  Rabbits are social creatures, and an outdoor hutch is now considered cruel treatment.  They can be litter trained, but it is a process, just like with other pets.  And if you already have a cat or dog, how will they take to a new addition?  A responsible pet owner will easily spend over $500 per year to care for a rabbit.  More information on rabbit care can be found here.

Baby chicks require round the clock attention and care, needing to be kept at precisely the right temperature and fed every few hours.  Once making it past that hurdle, adult chickens require an appropriate environment, a temperature controlled coop, and possibly an enclosure, which you will have to build or buy.  They require daily care, including when the family is on vacation.  Further, sexing baby chicks is difficult, so – like Joey and Chandler – you may end up with a rooster on your hands.  Many young roosters are surrendered or killed every year due to incorrect sexing.  More information on chicken care is here.

And don’t forget that many municipalities don’t allow chickens or ducks at all!

Ducks require the same care requirements as chickens, and then some.  In addition to care, feeding, and housing needs, ducks must also be provided with a bare minimum of 1 liter of clean water per duck per day.  More details on caring for ducks, here.

And remember, all of these animals are social.  Rabbits should be kept with the family, and chickens and ducks need to be kept with their own kind.  One should never keep just a single chicken or duck.

HEALTH CONSIDERATIONS

The Centers for Disease Control warns that each year, several children in the US are infected with salmonella carried by baby chicks, ducks, goslings, or turkeys.  Salmonella can be transmitted to children from the animals themselves, or from contact with their houses or bedding (or an Easter basket the little critters were nestled into!).

This fact alone demonstrates that these animals are not appropriate gifts for small children.  Find out more here.

Also consider the health of the animals themselves.  Bunnies, chicks, and ducks are all incredibly fragile creatures and can easily be injured by enthusiastically loving children.

Better Baskets!

Why take on the expense, risks, and commitment of a live animal, when you could use one of these fun Easter ideas:

PLANTS AND SEEDS AND FLOWERS, OH MY!

Stuff that basket with seeds, seedlings, bulbs, or a sprout jar to give kids the joy and pride of caring for something and watching it grow with a much more manageable level of care (unless it’s orchids; don’t give them orchids, ha).  This is also a great opportunity to wedge a little science lesson into the fun!

Kids love eating vegetables they’ve grown themselves, so consider some tomato seedlings or radish seeds.  Plant some carrots in a clear container (like an old juice bottle with the top cut off and holes in the bottom for drainage), and kids can watch their food grow.  Sprouts in a jar provide a lot of interaction and a very fast turnaround, being ready to eat in under a week.  Check out this article for information on growing sprouts with kids.

Wish seeds are another perfect Spring activity.  At the equinox (or Easter), each member of the family plants three seeds representing their wishes for growth in the coming year (sort of like a new year’s resolution).  As they care for the plants and watch them grow, they are reminded of their wishes.

SPRINGTIME TOYS

Easter comes right at the start of Spring.  Why not celebrate the new season with outdoor activity related basket stuffers like jump ropes, yard games, and sidewalk chalk?  I’m pretty sure I got my first bike as an Easter gift (we winter babies don’t have a lot of warm-weather gift opportunities).

And if you decide to go with chocolate, aim for slavery-free!

VISIT A SANCTUARY

Enjoy the animal experience and support a local sanctuary or rescue at the same time.  Many farm or wildlife sanctuaries include picnic areas and tours.

RENT-A-CHICK

While this practice my still be somewhat ethically questionable, it is at least superior to adopting then killing or abandoning a pet.  Many small farmers around the country offer a “rent-a-chick” opportunity at this time of year.  Families can take home a chick or two, complete with feed and instructions for care, and then return it to the farmer after Eastern.

If you’re in Detroit, visit J&M Farms at Eastern Market to learn more.

If You Must Adopt:

Finally, if you are sure that a new bunny or some chicks or ducks are right for your family; if you’re sure you’re ready to commit to caring for these creatures for so long as they may live, please consider waiting until after Easter and adopting from a local rescue.  There are always a large number of these creatures needing good homes at this time of year.

Adopting from a rescue organization saves an animal in need of a loving home, supports the mission of the rescue, and reduces the demand for large corporations to overbreed “throw away pets.”

For more information, visit:

Inhabitots

Life and Science

ASPCA

The Friends episode referenced above is called The one with a chick. And a duck.  It is episode 21 of season 3 and is available on Netflix and Amazon.

All images published with permission from either UrbanEarthworm.org or Eastern Market.

The post Better than Bunnies for Easter appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

At the same time, I was honored to participate in the Detroit Revitalization Fellows Program out of Wayne State University, increasing cooperation between organizations seeking to do good in Detroit.  It is an amazing program, and I’m thrilled to be a part of it.

And on top of those, I continued my role as a Marine Corps judge advocate in a reserve capacity.

Oh, and I had a baby while I was doing all that.

And MacGyver and I were asked to be in the “Michigan’s Sexiest Vegetarians” Calendar.  MacGyver was on the news this morning for their Meatless Monday feature.  Alas, I had to work…

(I’d like to note that I was 7 months pregnant when we did this shoot)

So, yeah, busy year.

It is my hope that in the coming year, I will be able to devote a decent amount of time and energy to this little blog.

Of course, I still have all those jobs listed above…

And a newborn…

Oh, and did I mention I’m also an adjunct law professor now?

So lots of time to devote to this blog…

We’ll see.  If you see a post from me in January, that will be a good sign!

Happy Holidays, All!

The post Looking Back on 2014 appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

According to Stanford University:

“Americans throw away 25% more trash during the Thanksgiving to New Year’s holiday period than any other time of year. The extra waste amounts to 25 million tons of garbage, or about 1 million extra tons per week!

If every family reused just two feet of holiday ribbon, the 38,000 miles of ribbon saved could tie a bow around the entire planet. If every American family wrapped just 3 presents in re-used materials, it would save enough paper to cover 45,000 football fields. The 2.65 billion Christmas cards sold each year in the U.S. could fill a football field 10 stories high. If we each sent one card less, we’d save 50,000 cubic yards of paper.”

The pointlessness of such waste is nearly incomprehensible.  There are so many wonderful, creative, and beautiful alternatives to wrapping paper and holiday cards, and so many ways to recycle, reuse, and repurpose those that are already in production.  Save some trees (not to mention reducing some of the other pollution caused by the production and dying of mass produced holiday paper products), and save some money with these beautiful, fun, and more sustainable holiday card and gift wrap alternatives:

GIVING:
Green Holiday Card Alternatives

1.  Make your own from recycled materials – There are tons of tutorials out there on using newspaper and other forms of waste paper as gift wrap (see below), but precious few on how to use waste paper to make gift cards, which surprises me.  Look for a tutorial on just that right here on Urban Earthworm very, very soon.

On of my all-time very favorite ways to make my own cards/paper/greetings, is by making home-made seed paper.  This is way easier than it sounds, recycled waste paper, and results in a greeting that can be planted instead of thrown away!  There are many ways to make seed paper, most just involving paper, water, a blender, seeds (the seeds do NOT go in the blender), and a drying method.  Check here for one example.  Once you’ve made your seed paper, use it to write a nice holiday note, print a holiday newsletter on it, or make it into a card by attaching a holiday image cut from an old magazine to it.  Voila!  My hands-down favorite idea.

2.  Purchase cards made of recycled materials – in very much the same vein as discussed in the Gift Giving Guide, if you decide you want to purchase cards to send, there are easy ways to ensure the cards you buy have the smallest negative footprint and the money you spend goes somewhere worthwhile.

Look for cards made from 100% recycled materials – 100% post-consumer recycled is best.

Look for cards whose proceeds benefit a charity.  Last year, we gave cards that benefitted Amnesty International and were printed on recycled paper. (This year my goal is to make the cards).

If you like the custom printed cards like those with family pictures on them, keep in mind that there are many companies out there from which you can get such cards printed on recycled paper with vegetable based ink, such as Greenfield Paper, BuyGreen,  GreenerPrinter, Conserveatree, and My Good Greetings.  That’s just a beginning list of the possibilities.  I haven’t done a lot of research on these, and I can’t endorse any one in particular, but they are all better than just ordering from environmentally irresponsible card printing companies.  Some of those listed even have seed paper cards!

3.  Go Paperless! – I admit that I love getting cards in the mail, even if I do worry about the waste.  Getting mail is fun and personal, which is why many people (including me) shy away from digital holiday greetings, but there are actually a number of ways to send holiday cards online that ARE personal, fun, and unique in addition to being the best choice for sustainability.

Want to send a family newsletter or photo card?  Make one exactly as you would for mass mailing, but email it instead, and attach a personal message to each individual email.

Use your card addressing time to write personal messages to people you would otherwise send impersonal cards to.

Go through the 1,000’s of digital photos we all hoard on our computers these days, and send pictures targeted at the recipients (for instance when you send your holiday greeting to your cousin, include pictures of her at your wedding or from your summer visit to her house).  If you know anyone who has suffered a loss, find pictures of their lost loved one that they may not have.

A popular new trend involves making YouTube or other internet video holiday greetings – there is a LOT of fun potential with that.

This year, I will probably only send paper invitations to a few people, mostly those who don’t use the computer regularly.

Please send me your creative digital card ideas (or any ideas that would fit in this post) and I’ll include them in the list!

Green Wrapping Paper Alternatives

This sections possibly could have been it’s own post.  There are thousands of ideas out there for alternatives to wrapping paper.  I’ve been on board with it for a while, though not with much skill.  I wrapped most of Flintstone’s birthday presents in sheets and pillowcases, but I can’t say it was pretty.  The ideas below, though, they are very pretty, mostly easy (because that’s how I roll), and would make excellent family crafts – a great way to teach the kids about sustainability and not wasting!  And, inspired by the absolute plethora of ideas out there for not only wrapping paper alternatives, but also for reusing wrapping paper, cards, etc., I’ve started a Pinterest board specifically to link to the ideas I couldn’t fit in this post, but which seemed like great ideas.  Check it out.

1. Old Paper – the classic and beloved method of wrapping gifts in old paper is getting new life.  First, I think black and white newsprint with a red bow is just beautiful.  Second, there is so much more potential and creativity that goes into this kind of wrapping these days, the possibilities are nearly endless.  This bodes well for me, because I have a MOUNTAIN of old magazines just waiting to find some second purpose.  Here are some ideas:

http://howaboutorange.blogspot.com/2009/10/make-gift-bow-from-magazine-page.html

And it doesn’t stop at wrapping:

Most of these ideas feature old newspaper and magazines, but just look around you, there is waste paper everywhere just waiting to be re-purposed.  My huge desk calendar is destined to be covered in my children’s art (on the blank backs), and used as giftwrap.  Old calendars and phone books.  Out of date maps make particularly adorable wrapping.  You can even customize it.  Old dictionary pages for the grammar nerd.  Comics for your resident class clown.  Discarded architecture plans for the engineer in your life.  The potential for creativity is wide open!  Even old plastic bags (from the days before you got your environmentally friendly canvas bags)  have potential:

2.  Wrap it in something useful – I wrapped MacGyver’s birthday present last year in a new tee-shirt for him.  There are tutorials out there specifically on how to fold shirts as giftwrap.  You can also use scarves, pashminas, fabric scraps (if you or your recipient sew), towels – any fabric really. Use re-usable bags instead of disposable gift bags.  The gift bags you buy in the card section are sometimes 4 or 5 dollars a piece when the reusable shopping bags up front with the cute designs are only 99 cents, and are REUSABLE.  Seems a little obvious.  And even if the paper gift bags are cheaper, they haven’t got a single advantage over re-usable bags – paper bags rip, pollute, and even though they can be reused, they crumple. There are so many absolutely adorable re-usable bags out there that can easily double as gift bags, I honestly see no reason to ever buy a “disposable” gift bag. Check out these reusable gift bags made of recycled materials:

3. Don’t Wrap It; Hide It – Finding baskets on Ostara or Easter is a blast, why not have that fun more often?  And who wouldn’t love opening up their sock drawer and finding a new watch?

4.  Give Experience.  Like This.  – Sometimes the best gifts don’t need to be wrapped at all.  Click the link for ideas of gifts of experience.

Tune in Soon for the next installment:  What to do with all the wrapping paper and holiday cards you receive this year.

* Every image on this post, while public domain, was linked to a tutorial and the creator of the image, but for some reason many of those links got wiped out.  If you own any of the images, please let me know so I can give you credit!

The post Sustainable Holidays: Wrapping Paper and Holiday Card Alternatives appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

As a devoted chocolate lover, I was horrified to discover that many of my favorite seasonal treats – treats that bring so much joy to children here in the US – are produced using cruel, abusive child labor.  The bigger the brand, the more likely it is to contain chocolate harvested with the sweat and tears of child slaves / child slavery.

Boycott Hershey’s, Mars, Reese’s, and (in the US) Cadbury this year, and instead choose from one of the many brands devoted to ending this horrifying practice (see the list at the end of this post).

I was disgusted to discover that  according to an investigative report by the BBC, hundreds of thousands of children are being purchased from their parents, or outright stolen, and then shipped to Ivory Coast, where they are enslaved on cocoa farms.  Destitute parents in these poverty-stricken lands sell their children to traffickers believing that they will find honest work once they arrive in Ivory Coast and then send some of their earnings home. But that’s not the reality. The terrible reality is that these children, 11-to-16-years-old but sometimes younger, are forced to do hard manual labor 80 to 100 hours a week. They are paid nothing, receive no education, are barely fed, are beaten regularly, and are often viciously beaten if they try to escape. Most will never see their families again.

Over a decade ago, two Congressmen, U.S. Rep. Eliot Engel, D-New York, and Sen. Tom Harkin, D-Iowa, attempted to remedy this issue.  They introduced legislation mandating a labeling system for chocolate. After the deep pockets of the chocolate corporations protested, a compromise was reached that required chocolate companies to voluntarily certify they had stopped the practice of child labor. The certification process would not involve labeling products “child-labor-free,” as initially proposed.  In my opinion, the movement lost its teeth at that point.

Instead of the “Child Labor Free” label, it called for public reporting by African governments, establishment of an audit system and poverty remediation by 2005. The deadline had to be extended to 2008 (read Fortune Magazine’s report on the state of the protocol in 2008) and again to 2010. Today, many aid groups say some of the provisions have still not been met, and it is the biggest corporations who refuse to comply.

Why should they?  Child slavery allows them to sell cheap chocolate to a clueless US American public.  Heaven knows I was a sucker for Reece’s Pumpkins and Easter Eggs before I found out about this epidemic of slavery – not to mention a cookies and cream bar once in a while (this was also before I quit dairy).  The CEOs of these corporations make millions upon millions of dollars off of children suffering and dying.  And so many people are completely unaware the problem even exists.

So the next time you reach for a candy bar, when you go to buy candy to hand out to trick or treaters or to stock your holiday candy dishes or include in your cookies, consider the price thousands of children are paying to bring you that chocolate.

Am I telling you to swear off chocolate?  Absolutely NOT!  Thank heavens!  All you have to do is be aware that your dollars have a voice, and your support of various brands sends a message.  Make that message a positive one, and buy chocolate from an ethical source.  There is a whole list of chocolate companies who use ethically sourced chocolate below, or you can simply look for Fair Trade or Equal Exchange on the label.

Not a fan of chocolate slavery, child slavery, corporate douche-baggery, and what-have-you?  Here’s what you can do (some of these are excerpted from Is There Child Slavery in Your Chocolate?):

* Purchase chocolate products from companies who only use cocoa that has definitively not been produced with slave labor. These companies include:

Clif Bar
Cloud Nine
Chocolove Dark Chocolate bar
Chocolove Cherries and Almonds Dark Chocolate Bar
Chocolove Crystallized Ginger Dark Chocolate Bar
Chocolove Orange Peel Dark Chocolate Bar
Chocolove Raspberry Dark Chocolate bar
Dagoba Organic Chocolate
Denman Island Chocolate
Divine Chocolate
Equal Exchange
Gardners Candies
Green and Black’s
John & Kira’s
Kailua Candy Company
Koppers Chocolate
L.A. Burdick Chocolates
Montezuma’s Chocolates
NewLeaf Chocolates
Newman’s Own Organics
Omanhene Cocoa Bean Company
Rapunzel Pure Organics
Shaman Chocolates
Sweet Earth Chocolates
Taza Chocolate
The Endangered Species Chocolate Company
Theo Chocolate.

Sure, some of these brands can be a little more expensive than chocolate provided by slaves (not exactly a shocker there), but the extra few cents is worth it every single time.  If I can’t find ethical chocolate, I will just not have chocolate.  It’s not worth the price otherwise.  And if you order in bulk, you can save a lot.  We recently ordered a TON of Equal Exchange chocolate miniatures for Halloween that even come with little cards about the benefits of ethical chocolate, and we’re encouraging everyone we know to hand out cruelty free candy this year.

A few weeks ago when MacGyver gave a lecture about Ethical Eating, during which I also spoke, one of the topics he covered was the chocolate slave trade.  A week later a friend of ours who had been at the lecture walked up to me and said, “I hate you.  I was going to grab a chocolate bar in the checkout line this week, and I remembered those poor kids and I just couldn’t do it.”  I think I’m totally ok with her hating me for that!

* In addition or alternative to ethical chocolate, consider purchasing something from this cruelty free candy list:

Airheads taffy
Brach’s Cinnamon Hard Candy
Brach’s Hi-C Fruit Slices
Brach’s Hi-C Orange Slices
Brach’s Root Beer Barrels
Brach’s Star Brites
Chick-o-Sticks
Cry Babies
Dots
Dum-Dums
Fireballs
Hubba Bubba bubblegum
Jolly Ranchers (lollipops and hard candy)
Jujubees
Jujyfruits
Laffy Taffy (some varieties)
Lemonheads
Mambas
Mary Janes (regular and peanut butter kisses)
Mike and Ike
Panda Licorice
Runts
Smarties (U.S. Brand)
Sour Patch Kids
Super Bubble
Swedish Fish
Sweet Tarts
Twizzlers
Zotz

* Hershey has asked the public to give feedback on their corporate responsibility via an online survey. Let them know what you think. They’re asking for it. Urge them to work toward Fair Trade certification of their chocolate products. Tell them there’s nothing sweet about manufacturing 80 million Hershey Kisses a day, using cocoa is often produced using abusive child labor.

* Get a free DVD copy of the film The Dark Side of Chocolate, along with information about Fair Trade, from the dedicated people at Green America. Watch it, show it to your friends, and spread the word.

* Tweet about this article, pin it, and post it to your facebook page. Tell your friends to read this article and take the Hershey online survey. The more people who do, the greater the chance Hershey will realize that the time has arrived for it to take responsibility for its actions.

* EDUCATE YOURSELF AND OTHERS.  Here are some excellent resources to read and share on the topic of chocolate and child slavery:

Is There Child Slavery in Your Chocolate?
The Bitter Truth About Chocolate
The Human Cost of Chocolate
Equal Exchange Farmers – the way it should be done
Tulane University Assessment of Child Labour in the Cocoa Supply Chain
The Dark Side of Chocolate – Spread the Word, Host a Screening with this Free DVD and Kit!

The post Chocolate and Child Slavery – Say NO This Holiday Season appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

As with any other event we have, we wanted to keep Flintstone’s Second Birthday party as sustainable as possible. And, as with everything else in our lives, this goal had to work around our own crazy busy schedules.

Now, I’m not the kind of mom who goes all out for a birthday my baby is not going to remember. No theme, no custom tee-shirts, no over-the-top decorations.  I don’t live my life for the pictures (though I still take tons of them), and neither do my kids.

I can still hardly believe that my baby is already 2 years old, though just looking at him, it’s obvious.  Especially with his new haircut (not pictured here), he looks more like a little boy than a toddler anymore.  He’s off the charts developmentally, both his doctor and his daycare tested him and found him to be closer to be closer to 3 than 2.  He’s sweet, loving, and funny.  He loves to talk, puts together sentences, wants to help with everything, and is always ready to give a hug.

Coming up to his birthday, we weren’t even sure we were going to have a party. My surgery was originally scheduled for 11 Sep, which was before F’s birthday, and we were just going to do something very small at home, but when my surgery date got pushed back (again), I took advantage of the newly opened weekend to schedule a little party for him.

So how was it sustainable (and how wasn’t it)?

Parties – at least kids’ birthday parties – are about food, decorations, and presents.  And it is in those three categories that I attempted to be a little more sustainable.

–  I made an amazing vegan carrot and zucchini cake which will get it’s own post (ideally on Monday).

–  We also had fruit and veggie trays (a mixture of local, organic, and grocery-grade), and air popped popcorn.  Obviously, that is only partly sustainable, but I also give us points for using real dishes and silverware instead of disposable, and anything that did get thrown away was actually recycled or composted.

– On that note, if we HAD decided to use paper plates and the like, we would have chosen some of the compostable options on the market right now.

– There will be more on party food sustainability (and nutrition) in the Birthday Cake post.

– To make the gifts we gave him more sustainable, we started at a locally owned thrift store that specializes in kids’ stuff. Sure, some of the gifts he got were still major brands that may have questionable practices, but NONE of our purchase dollars went to those companies, the went to local business. Buying things second hand, aside from being a good value, is an excellent way to perpetuate recycling.

– Even though I specifically asked our guests not to bring gifts, they did (because they are wonderful and generous friends). And I was thrilled to find out that all of them, knowing me, made an effort to bring local, sustainable, and recycled gifts. Books from the local small bookstore. Toys from thrift stores and made out of recycled plastics. This was the best part of the party for me – seeing that other people know, understand, and support my efforts to run a more sustainable household.

– I wrapped most of the gifts we gave Flintstone in sheets and pillowcases, and re-used one bag he had previously received a gift in. It wasn’t flashy and pretty, but it didn’t make a difference to him. It could have been prettier, though. Gifts wrapped in old newspapers can be very pretty. Kids can also color on the paper, adding another aspect of fun. Give reusable bags as part of the gift, and put the gift in it! In the past, I’ve wrapped gifts for Punky and MacGyver in shirts or towels I had gotten them as gifts. The bags and tissue paper from the gifts that were brought have been saved and will be recycled. This was a wrapping paper free birthday.

– Decorations were minimal. As I said, I didn’t see any reason for a theme or flashy decorations when Flintstone won’t even remember anyway. The only decoration I used – though admittedly not particularly sustainable – was a huge hit: We just blew up about 50 balloons in various shapes and sizes and threw the, all over. What can I say? F LOVES balloons. I’m not perfect when it comes to sustainability. The amount of laughter, squeals, and fun in our house since I blew up those balloons was worth it. The other kids loved them, too. I wonder if there is a such thing as environmentally friendly balloons?

The party was a blast. Flintstone is now 2. And he will tell me he’s 2, but only me. He’s still a mama’s boy, and I will continue to eat up every minute of it.

The last thing I want to note is just a new tradition I’ve started, that I’m pretty tickled by:

I bought this book at a local bookstore. It is a sweet story by a local author and is related to the history of the area where we currently live. At the party, I asked guests, instead of bringing cards, to write birthday wishes and memories for Flintstone in the book. I’m going to do one every year for his birthday with an age appropriate book somehow related to the year and the party guests. This may be our last year in the Lowcountry with all our wonderful friends here, who F has known since he was born. Which is why we chose this book.

Hope you’re all having a lovely weekend, and if please forgive me if this post is at all disjointed or rife with typos. I’m still on a lot of drugs from my surgery.

The post Sustainable Second Birthday appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

       With this slew of announcements, I’ve also gotten a lot of email, facebook messages, and phone calls asking about our homebirth and natural pregnancy and childbirth in general.  I’ve ended up promising a number of these friends that I would put my h0mebirth story back online for them to read.  Flintstone was born at home in September 2010, and this is how it happened (the birth part; get your mind out of the gutter):

 Disclaimers:
This is long and may be graphic at points.  It was written more for my own memory than as a blog post, so I’m pretty sure at least half of it constitutes the definition of TMI.

You’ve been warned.  Read at your own risk. 

      Just over a week before Flintstone’s arrival, certain activities brought on some very consistent and persistent Braxton Hicks contractions.  Because we really wanted the birth to happen while our friend, Scathing Lawyer (SL), was in town from NYC to watch Punky, we reluctantly decided to forego those activities for the next week until she arrived. 

      I woke up Monday morning and excitedly told MacGyver that as of 7:15 that night, when SL arrived, we could resume activities and try to bring about labor.  Then I was off to work. 

      I spoke to the midwife early in the day to let her know that I was pretty sure I had lost the mucus plug over night and to see if the anticipated “activities” could still take place.  She assured me that they could.

      Over the course of the morning and early afternoon, I became increasingly bothered by what felt exactly like first day menstrual cramps.  If I didn’t know better, I would have been certain I was having a period.  I have a number of friends whose labors had started with this very feeling.  I was a little excited, or, I suppose interested to see where this went, but I didn’t let myself get too excited.  I had no real pain, and not even many BH contractions.  Plus, my mom (and just about everyone else) had assured me that my labor would last at least 14 hours – more than likely 24.

      So I went about my work, focused on finishing two certain opinions in anticipation of going into labor sometime that week.

      In addition to the menstrual feeling, I had no appetite.  I completely forgot to eat my usual breakfast, and didn’t even realize it until almost lunchtime.  Then the thought of eating just did not sound good at all.  For lunch I went out and treated myself to some sushi and a vegetable bowl (a favorite dish of mine) because I knew I needed to eat even though I didn’t want to.

      I only managed to eat the sushi.

      At 14:00, Capt PaperClip (my boss who I did not exactly see eye-to-eye with) came into my office to discuss one of the opinions I was working on.  I told him that I suspected I might be in the very early stages of labor, just so he would be aware, but assured him that I wasn’t sure yet.  I remained seated while I was talking to him.  I knew exactly what I wanted to explain, but I kept loosing my train of thought, then I felt a gush.  And I really lost my train of thought and just stopped talking midsentence for a moment.  But I recovered and finished explaining whatever it was to him, even though there were two more gushes over the course of the conversation.  I was very glad when he left on his own.  I really didn’t want to have to ask him to leave.

      I called the midwife again, who informed me that “activities” were now soundly out of the question.  Suck.  I called MacGyver and told him I thought my water had broken, but that I just wanted to tie up a couple loose ends before I came home.  He wasn’t exactly thrilled with that plan.

      I changed out of my cammies and used napkins and a clean boot sock to catch the continuing leak of water since I didn’t have any “supplies” with me – because I am just that motivated.  And I managed to finish up one of the tasks I had been working on while the contractions started to become apparent.

      I talked to SL, who was about 5 hours away from the train station, which was another two hours from our house.  I was worried we wouldn’t be able to make the 4 hour round trip to go pick her up.  The midwife agreed, and offered to pick up SL for us since the train station was only 20 minutes from her house.  (Now there’s a service you won’t find from any OBGYN)

      The contractions continued to become clearer and MacGyver told me that if I didn’t leave right away, he was going to come get me.  Snarky Paralegal agreed.  So I packed up my office, told my bosses my water had broken, and headed for home.  I forgot to set the automatic out-of-office reply on my email, which has been bothering my ever since.

      My mom was in Ontario for Girls’ Weekend – sort of an all female family reunion we do every year, though I haven’t been able to make it for a few years.  I called to let her know I was in labor, and she was super excited.  She may have even squealed a little, which is not my mom’s style.  She told me to walk through the contractions, and not to let anyone make me lie down.

      At home, things progressed quickly.  I changed clothes a couple times, and even took the 39 week picture, but was quickly distracted from all that.  The contractions felt pretty close together, and I found myself pacing the length of the house, back and forth, at a very quick walk.  The midwife had told me to call when the contractions were an average of 60 seconds long and 6 minutes apart.  They certainly felt closer together than that, but I got very frustrated trying to time them using the stopwatch on my cell phone.  Really, I needed two stopwatches (note to self for next time – and note for any pregnant women, learn how to time contractions before you’re actually having them). 

      MacGyver and I went for a walk around the block, and he tried to help me time them.  We never really managed to time 5 in a row, but the ones we did time were 45 – 90 seconds long and 3 – 4 minutes apart.  I called the midwife again when we got back to the house and told her that I felt like things were progressing quite a bit faster than I would have expected.

      I tried lying down and relaxing through a few.  Turns out, my mom was right about the not lying down thing.  That method didn’t really work for me.  The urge to curl into a ball was just too strong.  So I paced a little more.  MacGyver filled up the birth pool (twice, since the first time the water coming straight out of the hot water heater had sediment in it; don’t worry, we reversed the liner so it was still sanitary).

      The next time I talked to the midwife was probably around 6 pm at the latest, maybe it was 5 . . . – only 4 hours since my water had broken, and, listening to my contractions on the phone, she told me she was going to come then.  Unfortunately, SL was going to have to rent a car to get to our place from the train station.  The midwife was about an hour and 45 minutes away, and the other midwife coming to help her was about an hour away.  She told me not to get into the pool unless I wanted MacGyver to deliver the baby before she got there.

      The contractions were quickly becoming more painful than I had expected, and MacGyver was not enjoying watching me squirm.  He wanted me to get in the tub right away because he knew it would make me feel better, but I was really worried about Flintstone’s safety if he was born without someone there who knew what they were doing.  (Sorry, Honey)

      For some of the contractions, I stood holding MacGyver’s arms or bouncing on the corner of our bed, then he brought in a “birth ball” (Punky’s bouncy ball covered with a clean towel).  I bounced gently on that while MacGyver sat on the bed in front of me.  The wait for the midwife felt soooo long.

      I have a pretty high tolerance for pain.  I’ve put myself through some pretty painful and physically demanding things in my life.  I have pretty good control of my body.  I know the power of relaxing through pain, and hadn’t been too worried about any part of the labor before the pushing stage.  But I had also failed to ever go to the chiropractor and get my back and pelvis fixed like the midwife had told me, and I had assumed, incorrectly, as it turns out, that Flintstone would come out in the same way most babies do.

      The contractions, pressing his head down strongly against my pubic bone, were very painful and came very fast.

      The midwife actually made really good time.  I’m pretty sure I was in the tub by the time she made her way from the front door to the bedroom.  The warm water was a huge relief.  For a while. 

      The baby sounded good, and I started just riding out the contractions, waiting for the urge to push.  But the contractions just continued becoming more painful, and not at all where I had expected them to be.  The pain was all focused directly on my pubic bone.

      This is what I get for conceiving a baby while going through TBS.  If you’ll remember, I sucked at Land Nav – a lot.  Stumbling around in the woods with a compass and largely inaccurate map in freezing cold rain for 8 hours was easily one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life.  I have no sense of direction or navigational skill.  Apparently, neither does Flintstone.  Because he was trying really hard to come out through my pubic bone.

      After a while, the pain turned me into a simpering, whining, at times shouting, big baby.  I did not deal with the pain gracefully.  I spent quite a while leaning over the side of the tub, facing the wall, and throwing up – because throwing up during the contractions seemed to make them hurt less.

      And poor MacGyver.  He was so wonderful.  And so desperate to help me.  But I couldn’t stand anyone touching me during the contractions.  I would get so hot, MacGyver’s hands felt like fire.  And not in a good way

      The urge to push was not as obvious and clear as I thought it would be.  Maybe I was a little anxious to feel the urge to push and get things over with.  I thought I had an urge to push, but it was rather vague – it wasn’t until a couple hours later that I felt the real, no-kidding, unmistakable urge to push.  Next time, I’ll wait for that.

       With each contraction, I would bear down and push as hard as I could, but I swore nothing was happening.  I couldn’t feel anything going on at all.  I would simultaneously want to push and to clamp down and hold back – I’m sure because of the pain.  And I did not enjoy pushing.  Eventually, I started whining that it wasn’t working and that I didn’t want to push anymore.  The second midwife told me it was ok, to just relax through a couple of contractions.  Advice I took gladly, though there was really no hope of relaxing through these contractions.  Relaxing between was a bit of a joke, too, because my contractions were super close together the whole time.  After a couple minutes of this, though, the main midwife took over and demanded that I push more.  And really, as much as I wanted to listen to the other midwife and just rest, what I needed was to be pushed.  I am a Marine, after all.  I’m used to people yelling at me and telling me what to do, especially in painful situations.

      Sometime during all this, SL showed up, safe from the train station in a rented car.  I didn’t see her until after the birth.  When MacGyver went out to greet her, Punky, on hearing one of my very loud protests that I did NOT want to do this anymore, asked MacGyver if she had a choice about whether or not to have kids when she grew up.  He assured her that she did, and she decided that she did not ever want to have children, lol.  To this day, she says she’s going to adopt.  Good for her.

       SL said her favorite part was when she heard me declare, loudly and resolutely, that I was done and would not be doing this anymore.  Ha.

      At a certain point, the tub just felt too hot, and I felt like I wasn’t getting enough leverage to push.  Actually, I felt like I was flailing around like a giant clumsy hippo, so I got out.  I tried a couple different things from there.  Lying over the birth ball, sitting on the birth stool, even sitting on the toilet.  And, finally, the bed.  I leaned against MacGyver and pushed in a semi-reclined position for a while.  The midwife checked me and assured me that she could feel his head, and that she had pushed back the little lip of cervix still remaining on one side. 

      I was pushing so hard and so often, and I was sure nothing was happening.  It felt like straining against a concrete wall.  I complained loudly that nothing was happening.  The midwife assured me, tracking his progress, that he was indeed moving down with every push.  She told me the next day that for at least the first hour that she had been lying through her teeth to keep me pushing.  She could feel that he was in a weird position and not coming out the way he should.  My pushing was, indeed, completely ineffectual.  And there may have been some talk of transferring me to the hospital.

      But his heart rate stayed consistent in the 120’s, except at one point later in the labor, shortly before he crowned, I could hear that it was slower when she listened, down to 110 – still safe, but I did not like that.  I didn’t even need to hear the numbers to know it had gotten slower.

      Then she had me do something you never expect.  She had me lay flat on my back with my legs out straight.  When I had a contraction, she had me push in that position while pulling on two ends of a sheet that the other midwife was pulling back on.

      At first, this sucked just as bad.  But then, suddenly, I could feel things start to move.  It made pushing hurt even more – I felt like my pubic bone was going to explode, but things were moving.  That was a good sign considering I had been pushing for at least three hours (though MacGyver and the midwives kept telling me that it hadn’t been that long because I kept getting very upset that it was taking too long – the frigging books said the average pushing stage should last ½ hour to 2 hours.  Bah!  Fat lot of good averages did me ;-))

       The midwife had had me on my back to get him to move under my pubic bone, and it was a success.  After just a few more pushes in that position, she had me move back onto the birthing stool.  I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of moving, but I did.  And then there was a REAL urge to push.  This was much clearer than the urges had been to this point.  It was strong, I wanted to push – at least my body wanted to – and it took so much less thought than the pushing to this point had.

      I held the midwife’s assistant’s wrists (sadly, I still found MacGyver too hot to touch, but he was right there next to her the whole time), and down he moved.  I remember everyone in the room, both midwives and MacGyver, getting very excited when Flynn started to appear.  I could feel him moving with every push, but didn’t yet feel any stretching, so I was really surprised when they said they could see him.

      The midwife had me reach down and feel his head coming out, and I was surprised by how squishy it was (he had a very large caput , which is what I felt).  But I had to brace myself with both hands for the pushes. 

      The whole time on the birth stool seemed to go very quickly – especially compared to the hours before.  He crowned quickly, and the midwife’s assistant talked me through a series of little pushes to ease his head out and minimize tearing.  (And I have to say, tearing always happens at the perineum, but I was surprised by how sure I was that I was going to tear “in front,” so to speak, though I didn’t).  I’m really glad to have been drug free at this point and in complete control.  The midwife talking me through easing his head out did wonders to minimize any sort of tearing.

      Then his head was out, and it was amazing.  It was almost over.  I kinda wanted to be done right there, and I think my wash of relief stalled the contractions, because he stayed in that position for a minute or two while the midwife poked my tummy and MacGyver tweaked other parts to try to bring the contractions back.  I didn’t really want them back…  But it only took one or two pushes for his body to follow his head, and there he was, all wet and slippery, big, dark eyes wide open.

      I had to hold him on my lap because his cord was very short (another reason the labor had been so difficult), while the midwives dried and rubbed him until he started to cry moments later.  Then we moved carefully up to the bed, where he had to lay down by my hip because of the short cord.

      But he was hungry – and seeming has been ever since.  I thought he was going to give me a hickey on my hip.  The midwife wanted to get the placenta out so he could feed, and, while I agreed completely with the desire to establish breastfeeding, I was not excited about pushing anymore, and I had heard some really unpleasant things from friends about how painful it had been when their Dr’s had wanted the placenta out.

      This wasn’t painful at all, though.  The midwife rubbed my abdomen and maybe pulled a little – I wasn’t really paying attention, then there was a contraction, I pushed, and the placenta was out.  It went into a bowl, and Flintstone was able to come up and have his first meal.  He took to breast feeding like a pro, too, even in the face of my uncontrollable shaking

      And that, while it is just the beginning, is the end of the birth portion of the story.  Flintstone was born at 12:24 am Tuesday, September 14^th after 10 hours of labor including 4 hours of pushing.  He weighed 7lbs, 2 ozs, was 20 inches long, and had a head circumference of 13 inches. 

      I felt like a huge pansy afterward, having been so loud and upset the whole time.  I hadn’t expected to deal with the pain so poorly.  But I also hadn’t expected nearly that much pain. 

      A few months after the birth, one of the midwives contacted me to ask if I had ever been a victim of sexual assault/domestic violence (which I have), and said that some of my issues with labor were typical of such a past.  I have yet to research that further, but you can expect a post on it when I do.

      I take a little bit of comfort in the midwife’s insistence that my labor was one of the hardest she’s seen.  That because of his position, my back/pelvic alignment issues, and the short cord, and judging from the size of the caput he had when he was born (we’re talking serious cone head), his was not a “normal” birth.  And that if I had done it in the hospital, there is a strong likelihood it would have ended in cesarean.    She may be saying all this to humor me.  But I think I can deal with that. 

Originally posted Sep 19, 2010 5:57 PM

The post Birth Story appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

      I feel like some strange sort of smuggler when a car pulls up next to the big government pickup truck I’ve been sitting in.  I climb out of the truck and walk toward the back of the car.  As I approach, the rear window rolls down.

      “Mama!” calls the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard, “Mama!”  As I open the door, he reaches for me and squirms against the straps of his carseat.  “Buckle;  Buckle,” he insists.

      As draw him out of the car, his older sister chatters excitedly about all the fun she had tonight and how sorry she is I couldn’t be there.  I carry Flintstone around to the front passenger seat of the car while he happily babbles “Mama, moke.  Moke!” Pointing at my chest.  Before I climb into the car with him, I undo all the buttons on my digital cammies and untuck my olive drab undershirt.

      MacGyver and I talk about the day he’s had with the kids and the things we have to do this week, while Punky occasionally interjects.  Flinstone nurses like a champ – much to my relief – but only for about 2 minutes before the buttons and knobs on the dashboard start to distract him.   I repeatedly redirect his attention back to nursing, worried about having too much milk left over.  I won’t be able to nurse him again for more than 12 hours, and I don’t have my pump with me.

       I’m glad to have him take anything, though.  I’m really glad they could make it out tonight.  I hadn’t asked MacGyver to bring Flintstone out to me this time because I knew he had had a really rough day.  I had been worried I was going to have to manually express some milk to relieve the pressure and keep from sending my body any signals that might slow down my milk production.  Just minutes before MacGyver called to tell me he was on his way, I had been trying to decide what to express the milk into and what to do with it afterward.  I was seriously considering putting it in my coffee.

       I’m sure that sounds less than appetizing to some, but if you’ve ever nursed, or, even more if you’ve ever pumped, you know the pain experienced at the mere thought of letting any of that liquid gold go to waste.

      It’s not long at all, only a matter of minutes, before Flintstone has nursed enough and his attention is completely given over to the dashboard and trying to reach the steering wheel.  If it weren’t so buggy out, I might take the kids out to play on the grass next to the parking lot for a few minutes before they go.  Tonight, I have rounds to make and MacGyver sorely needs to sleep.

      As soon as Flintstone realizes that I’m walking him back around to his carseat, he throws his little arms around me and begs, “Nooo,” he says sadly, “Mama,” And he hugs me again.

      I’d rather he just claw my heart out through my ribcage.

      He nurses a little more before I put him in the car, and with that final comfort, he says, “Home,” and points at the car door.  I buckle him back into his seat.  I swear I can feel the distance between us like two magnets being pulled apart.  “Bye!”  He waves and smiles.  Sometimes I wonder if that makes me feel better or worse than when he cries.

      I kiss MacGyver and Punky goodbye, and watch the taillights disappear into the balmy night, and I am sad.  Even though standing duty only lasts 33 hours, it feels like an eternity.  I have been lucky enough never to have been separated from my babies by a deployment.  I don’t know how I would ever survive it.  I have an amazing amount of respect for those who do.

      A deep breathe eases  the depression.  I climb back up in the GOV (pronounced guvee), and make my rounds.  I take stock of all I have to be thankful for.  I’m glad I am still able to nurse my son after all these months.  I’m glad we worked to make it work.  It certainly hasn’t been easy.

      Months and months of pumping two, even three times a day, hooked up to that blasted, painful machine.  With the cow sign on my door informing everyone that I am “indisposed.”  At least I have my own office.  Having to go to a separate room every time would have made it exponentially harder.

      Remember the complete debacle when I went to the Legal Assistance course at the Army JAG school?  Ridiculous. 

       There are dozens upon dozens of studies by respected institutions, universities, and international health organizations emphasizing and reiterating the importance of breastfeeding for the health of babies and mothers, observing the reduced time lost and costs expended by companies and governments that encourage breastfeeding, and encouraging more widespread acceptance of a natural way of life older than our very species.      

        The World Health Organization, CDC, and the National Institues of Health, for starters, emphasize that breastfeeding is the best and most normal way to provide nutrition for a baby.  They also all recognize that the normal weaning age for a human infant is between 2 and 7 years old.

        I am not going to go into the debate about women who can’t breastfeed or who have to stop before the 2 year mark.  We do what we can to be the best mothers we can.  My point here isn’t to say, “this is what I did so this is what you should do.”  It’s simply to provide part of my story as a full time working mom, an active duty Marine, doing the best I can to breastfeed my son.

       Flintstone is 21 months old now, and the 20 months of that since I went back to work have been sprinkled with breastfeeding struggles and triumphs.  But knowing the benefits to the baby have made them all more than worth it – from protecting against illness (for the entire length of the breastfeeding relationship) to huge benefits to brain and cognitive development, the list of benefits to the baby is almost unending.  Don’t believe me?  There are dozens of examples of evidence here (this is, by the way, one of my very favorite breastfeeding resource sites; the amount of information available here is amazing).

      But there are also often overlooked, but very significant, benefits to mothers:  From physiological benefits like protection from diabetes, osteoporosis, and many cancers to decreasing the occurance, severity, or longevity of postpartum depression.  The hormonal responses of a woman who has recently given birth are designed for breastfeeding, as are her child’s. 

       And there is, of course, the whole weight loss thing…

      Sometimes it’s hard.  I sacrifice part of my lunch break to go nurse Flinstone every day.  At least once a month, I find myself nursing him in a dark parking lot.  But it is well worth it.

The post Mom Enough: The Breastfeeding Working Mom appeared first on Urban Earthworm.

      You raise an interesting point, and I think some of your logic is quite accurate on its face. There are two sides to my response:      On the one side, I agree. I don’t like hormonal birth control as I feel it is introducing unnecessary chemicals into my body and disrupting my natural hormone balance.  I have used hormonal forms of birth control, and I did not like the way they affected me, particularly with respect to my moods.  For a few years now, I have used a non-hormonal (copper) IUD, which I love.  Whether you want to consider copper chemical or otherwise unnatural is a judgment call for the individual.

      That said, I wouldn’t necessarily call someone of my – we’ll say “green” – mindset a hypocrite for using hormonal birth control in the same way I wouldn’t call them a hypocrite for taking an OTC headache painkiller. While the goal is to introduce as few chemicals into your body and the environment as possible, that is a goal, and for many people it can be a nearly unattainable one.  Every little step helps and falling short of perfection is not a failure.

      While this isn’t a religious question, I think religion presents a useful analogy. In the same way that a Christian strives to avoid sin but sometimes fails – sometimes knowingly, sometimes unknowingly – the same goes for those who try to avoid chemicals or abide by similar “green” standards – they sometimes fail. Where a Christian might say that the world and our culture are rife with sin, so a “Green” person might consider the world (and our culture in particular) to be rife with chemicals and other non-green conveniences. To avoid any of these things, one would have to remove themselves from society completely.

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