tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14267626756953346342024-03-05T20:09:58.788+11:00Earthy MotherhoodA blog dedicated to natural pregnancy, birth and labour choices; lactivism, attachment parenting, vaccination, intactivism, alternative choices, awareness of social issues and questioning the beliefs we have been indoctrinated with from birth.Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-28930749757398826502011-01-06T22:42:00.000+11:002011-01-06T22:42:42.498+11:00Pay It ForwardA Facebook friend of mine posted a Pay It Forward blog post, so I replied and I am posting the same.<br />
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Hers is here: http://milkymumma.wordpress.com/<br />
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I promise something handmade to the FIRST 5 people who leave a comment here. However, to be eligible, you must repost this message, offering something handmade to 5 other people. The rules are that it must be handmade by you, and it must be sent to your 5 giftees sometime in 2011. Ready, set, GO!<br />
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I dye wool, knit, make felt food, and have some other talents up my sleeve, so comment here and repost this on your blog. First 5 comments get something handmade from me- although this may take a few months to organise everyone!<br />
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Please note- these are not the items being given away, but mere examples of what you might receive.Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-38616047067005365772010-12-31T12:38:00.000+11:002010-12-31T12:38:26.874+11:00The problem with plastics in children's toys...When I was pregnant with my son, I voraciously collected toys for him. After all, children need toys (and plenty, right?) and pregnancy seemed to stir in me some sort of insane hoarding creature. I scoured eBay, I went to garage sales, I searched the sale bin of every shop I walked past, I raided Op Shops (church or charity stores in Australia are called Op Shops- short for Opportunity Shops). By the time my son was born, I had amassed a wonderful collection of brightly coloured toys- tables to stand at that had things to flip, shakers and rattles, cars and jittery creatures. I never considered anything could be an issue with these plastic toys- I played with similar ones when I was a child, and they must be safe. Plastic is plastic, and plastic is fine. Everything is plastic, anyway! You can't avoid it, right? And my son loved his pile of amazing toys.<br />
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Then, I had the fortune to discover the truth about Bisphenol A when I was looking into getting him a sippy cup to go with the introduction of solids. I read everything I could, and it started to make me concerned. Some of these plastics were toxic, and had been considered toxic for over 50 years? Affecting the endocrine system? No thanks! I was so cautious about making sure all the food-related plastics in our home were stable and BPA free- and then I turned my attention to the pile of toys lurking in our lounge room.<br />
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The first cull, I removed all older toys and anything which appeared to contain PVC. (<span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0">The European Union has banned the use of PVC in children’s toys due</span> to health concerns.) The reason I removed the older toys was because I started to become aware of lead in plastics and the release of toxins as older toys degrade. Everything I read had me thinking further and further about what my son was being exposed to. I had to consider how this fit into my choices so far... I didn't vaccinate my son, I was careful about what we ate, we chose organic foods, we had a chemical-free home, I didn't put plastic nappies on him, we didn't eat artificial sweeteners- and yet my son was rolling about amidst a mass of plastic joy. Plastic joy which was probably affecting his nervous and endocrine system while he giggled and mouthed everything in sight. Why hadn't I questioned this yet?<br />
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So I set about shifting my habits. I collected wooden toys everywhere I went and I asked for them as gifts for his 1st birthday. People were wonderful about it, actually- many people bought us some really lovely handmade gifts which were as simple as a wooden car or a small set of blocks. I made a simple suggestion on the invitations- 'We would appreciate toys made of natural materials, or books.' I expected people to simply ignore this, but nobody did. Every person found it easy to pick one or the other, and my son received some lovely books and some wonderful natural toys made from wood, bamboo, wool and metal. It wasn't anywhere near as hard as I expected. Our friends and family said they didn't mind it at all, and some started reconsidering plastic toys in their home, too. <br />
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After his birthday, I had the opportunity to remove all plastic toys from our home- we now had a lovely basket of wooden animals, an abacus, some large felt balls, a wooden walker and a wooden Wheely Bug (<a href="http://shop.wildchildnappies.com.au/categories.php?category=Spoil-your-little-one%21&page=2&sort=featured">http://shop.wildchildnappies.com.au/categories.php?category=Spoil-your-little-one%21&page=2&sort=featured</a> this shop has a great selection, and cheaper than anywhere else). I bagged all the plastic toys up and donated them to charity. Our lounge room went from cluttered to clear and my son seemed to enjoy his toys more. He would walk animals across the floor instead of kicking aside toys littering the floor. <br />
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But enough about our journey into a plastic toy free environment...<br />
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Here is some info on the specific problems with some plastics:<br />
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<strong>PVC</strong><br />
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Polyvinyl chloride, also known as vinyl, is the plastic used in products when they need to be flexible. Teething rings and soft, flexible toys are just some products that are manufactured from PVC plastic. PVC is a health hazard and a pollutant- it contains lead, pthalates, cadmium, light stabilizers, barium, heat stabilizers, anti-oxidants and other chemical compounds. PVC production has increased 100-fold during the last 40 years- more and more products are being manufactured from it because is it relatively inexpensive.<br />
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<strong>Dioxin</strong><br />
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The disposal of PVC can also impact human health through our environment. Dioxin is one of the most toxic chemicals known to humans and is a by-product of both the manufacturing and the incineration of certain chlorine based products, including PVC. The Environmental Protection Agency classifies dioxin as a Class I Carcinogen. Exposure to dioxin has been shown to cause immune system damage, reprodutive and developmental problems and hormone interference. Dioxin is in our foods and is fat-soluble, having an accumulative effect as it travels up the food chain, increasing drataically in concentration- much like mercury. We cannot eliminate dioxin easily from our bodies. However, Dioxin does travels through breast milk and crosses the placenta- pregnant and breastfeeding women should avoid Dioxin at all times.<br />
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<strong>Pthalates</strong>Pthalates (pronounced "thalates") are chemical compounds which make PVC soft and stretchy and account for a high percentage of a finished product's weight. Pthalates never chemically bind to the plastic and leach from the plastic at a rate of up to 1% each year. The European Union Scientific Committee reported in April of 1998 that the two most common pthalates, DEHP and DINP, seeped from PVC toys at dangerous levels. DEHP, labeled by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency as a probable human carcinogen, is the most commonly used phthalate in PVC plastics. Bottles of DINP (the phthalate most commonly used in toys) used in the lab must be labeled with a warning, part of which is: "May cause cancer; harmful by inhalation, in contact with skin, and if swallowed; possible risk of irreversible effects..." A teething ring may contain 40% of DINP by weight.<br />
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<strong>Bishenol A (BPA)</strong><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bisphenol_A">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bisphenol_A</a> <-- I can't say what I want about BPA without clogging up this whole blog, so have a click here and read some of the info for yourself. <br />
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There is simply too much mounting evidence against BPA, which is why BPA is banned from many countries now. However, many older toys contain BPA, as well as cheaper toys which contain clear plastics. Less than 5% of BPA used goes into food contact applications such as cups or plastic containers. Anything clear and shatter-proof in your home is likely to contain BPA unless stated otherwise. <br />
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<strong>Lead</strong><br />
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High levels of lead are also found in PVC and some other plastics. Studies show that vinyl windows deteriorate with exposure to heat and sun. This deterioration releases lead dust at dangerous and toxic levels. Vinyl window shades containing lead have been banned in the U.S- but what about toys made from PVC? Aren't they often left in the sun, by a window, or in a car? A study conducted by Greenpeace and the University of North Carolina raised some concern that the same type of deterioration can happen in toys.<br />
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Here's hoping there is some food for thought here to help push you towards eliminating some plastics from your home. The less there is, the less likely it is that you are all breathing in Phthalates. The more plastic toys in one area, the higher the concentration of phthalates which you are all being exposed to.<br />
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<strong>Some great places to buy affordable wooden toys are:</strong><br />
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</strong><a href="http://www.mywoodentoys.com.au/specials.php"><strong>http://www.mywoodentoys.com.au/specials.php</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://shop.wildchildnappies.com.au/categories.php?category=Spoil-your-little-one%21&page=1&sort=featured"><strong>http://shop.wildchildnappies.com.au/categories.php?category=Spoil-your-little-one%21&page=1&sort=featured</strong></a><br />
Etsy and MadeIt have some wonderful hand-felted toys which can be under $5 an item. Many of these stores have sales.<br />
Facebook pages have garage sales, so keep an eye out on specials. <br />
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Ask some people around you where they get cheap ones- these pages are from Australia so if you like elsewhere then there is bound to be some online eco toy shops with sale items. <br />
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The other alternative to purchasing toys is to give your children natural objects to play with, so here are some ideas (which you'll find in many Steiner/Waldorf schools as well):<br />
*Baskets of smooth pebbles and rocks<br />
*Baskets of shells<br />
*Making playsilks from soft materials or silk scarves from second-hand stores<br />
*Make your own knitted toys or hand sew some felt animals, food and fruits- this is easier than you think, simply google some felt food tutorials and get started. You can also make them from plain materials. I was a novice sewer and I managed to make some wonderful felt strawberries on my first go:<br />
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*Make your own wooden blocks by choosing small branches and sawing into small sections, then sand off the edges to make eclectic blocks which can be expanded upon from branches you find in your neighbourhood:<br />
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Your options are only as limited as your imagination, and your children can come up with some wonderful ideas to help as well.Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-24173565284494309682010-12-30T23:06:00.001+11:002010-12-30T23:15:00.655+11:00The Unnecessary Cesarean Birth of Sophie- guest blog by Lauren Ferrari<span style="font-size: large;">The Unnecessary Cesarean Birth of Sophie- </span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">a guest blog by Lauren Ferrari</span></div><br />
<div class="fbChatMessage fsm" data-jsid="message" id="msg_687265242_undefined">I was living in Puerto Rico during the course of my pregnancy and the birth of my daughter. The hospital where I received my care was horrendous- it was small, cramped, overcrowded, understaffed- it was awful. Because my husband is in the military it was our only available option at the time.<br />
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<div class="fbChatMessage fsm" data-jsid="message" id="msg_687265242_undefined">I didn't like the Obstetrician allocated to me at all. He berated me about wanting a natural, drug free birth, saying "you'll be begging for an epidural! "I even asked the Obstetrician about midwives but he told me "There are no midwives in Puerto Rico." (In retrospect, he was probably lying.) I really hated him but could not switch doctors- in Puerto Rico, after 20 weeks you cannot switch care providers. No one will take you; you're considered a liability. I begged, cried, called every doctor around- nobody would help me. I had the choice of flying to California to be with my mom, but I was scared my husand would miss the birth (military leave is hard to organize). There was no other option. I wasn't aware of freebirth and I had no-one around me normalizing birth. The irony is that the day of my 36 week appt, I had just gotten off the phone with my insurance company, telling them I could not take it anymore and wanted to fly to California- but my plans were thwarted that very day.</div></div><div class="fbChatMessage fsm" data-jsid="message"></div>I went to a prenatal appointment at just over 36 weeks, and my doctor told me to go to the hospital for observation overnight. He said my BP was "high," while it was only 130/90 <strong>and</strong> I'd been crying (I had to wait 4 hours to see him every appointment and was beginning to lose it!!). I went, and heard nothing for 24 hours. They wouldn't let my husband stay with me, made me lie in bed with an IV and fetal monitor, made me use a bedpan, wouldn't let me eat or drink, gave me <strong>no</strong> call button, etc. I spent 24 hours sobbing in fear for my unborn child, and wanting my husband! The next day, my OB stormed in, yelling that I should have been "QUIET AND HAPPY TO BE IN THE HOSPITAL!!" What?! It was shocking how mean he was. He went to look at my test results, then came back and said that I had pre-eclampsia and was going to have a C-section. He even said I could be induced, but "it could take a few days." To this day I'm shocked he just went right for surgery, when ALL resources about pre-eclampsia recommend attempting induction first if the pregnancy is nearly full-term!! He just wanted to be over with it faster and get more money from my insurance company. Truly sick. I had NO symptoms (and believe me, I had read about pre-e and was well aware of the symptoms), and he didn't show me my test results. I don't believe I had anything wrong with me at all. During the C-section, my OB never spoke to me or offered any comfort, even though I was scared out of my mind for our daughter's lungs, what with her not even hitting 37 weeks. He also didn't come check on me ONCE during my 3 days recovery in the hospital, only dropping by for 2 minutes on the last day to sign my release forms!! I never saw him again, and refused to have him see me at my post-partum visit.<br />
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After the surgery, they sent me off to recovery, alone. My daughter was put in the nursery and my poor husband kicked out into the waiting room. I didn't see him for 8 hours, and he was only allowed one glimpse of her at 6 hours old. She was perfectly healthy, as was I, and we were kept apart for TWELVE hours!!!!!!! <br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><em>My beautiful daughter, before I had even seen her.</em></span><br />
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I begged to see her over and over, and the nurses ignored me, and every so often just said NO. It was excruciating. They also refused to give me pain medication, even when I was convulsing from the agony. I remember nurses coming up to me and PUNCHING my stomach like a ball of dough, with no warning!! I was screaming and begging them to stop, pushing at their hands. It was horrific.<br />
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When they finally let me see her, I held on to her for dear life and kept her with me. Before they even brought her to me, some nurses showed up claiming she was "starving" and needed to eat. I was alone and in a drug haze, so I freaked out and said okay!! They gave her a BOTTLE before I even got to hold her!! To this day I'm very surprised we nursed easily!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gMKsjEjQq12Yv9Wa8umEErD2stSzx69nFkV-xd1c7dlXj_zlsi9Od0p_sMSNaGiWrWzfd3NyTCwmJ-PLfRb1dmt3C8jnU8mVkI_vtRw0HXVWv77zyB_NighK3xv-njDniZo9uYAi0vQ/s1600/n687265242_416685_6924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gMKsjEjQq12Yv9Wa8umEErD2stSzx69nFkV-xd1c7dlXj_zlsi9Od0p_sMSNaGiWrWzfd3NyTCwmJ-PLfRb1dmt3C8jnU8mVkI_vtRw0HXVWv77zyB_NighK3xv-njDniZo9uYAi0vQ/s400/n687265242_416685_6924.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><em>Once I had hold of Sophie, I wouldn't let her go. I was so happy just to have her in my arms.</em></span><br />
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NO one helped me take care of her, even though I could barely move from the pain. My husband wasn't allowed to stay overnight the 3 days I was in the hospital, since I was in a shared room, and of course no one on staff bothered to tell me my MOM could stay and help me!! She had flown all the way from California to Puerto Rico to be with me the moment she found out about the C-section.<br />
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Needless to say, I suffered from PTSD for several months afterwards, and would sob hysterically if I saw a happy Baby Story on TV, or talked about my experience.<br />
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It's been 4 years now, and I can talk about it without crying. I refused to be a victim again, and studied normal birth for a couple years to prepare myself for a natural VBAC. It did not go exactly as I'd hoped, but it was actually a healing experience nonetheless. My body is not broken, and I had my child the way I was meant to. :)Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-81483969695171639852010-11-28T22:04:00.000+11:002010-11-28T22:04:49.908+11:00The Unassisted Birth of Elliana Abigail- Guest Blog by Lee Beaumont<span style="font-size: large;"><u>The Unassisted Birth of Elliana Abigail </u></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;">~Guest Blog by Lee Beaumont~</span></div>Around the end of August 2008 I started to feel a bit off so I thought I may as well do a test just to rule out pregnancy. I was tandem breastfeeding, using condoms and billings. Pregnancy seemed unlikely. I thought for sure it was just exhaustion making me feel so flat.<br />
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I got a line and a shadow. It was so faint that I had to hold it in the right light on the right angle for it to be visible. I didn’t get the courage to tell my husband till late that afternoon. We had felt that our family was complete already with our 2 children Ciara 2yrs old, Taj 9 months old at the time. Thankfully he was over the moon. The first thing he asked me was “Have you booked T yet?” (Our IM)<br />
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We had our initial appointment with the T, our independent midwife before Mick left for basic training. Just the usual blood pressure, urine tests and a bit of a chat. He was happy with the decision to have T as our midwife.<br />
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I did the 2nd and 3rd trimesters of my pregnancy solo. Mick was away for work and my family lived an hour away. My Mum started to come and visit me daily and helped with the kids from about 35 weeks. I was having lots of Braxton Hicks contractions at five minute intervals and was resting all I could to try to delay labour till DH got home for good. Mick had a few days leave where he got to come home and see us all and we spent quite a bit of time fooling around. It set off some pretty serious prelabour with tightenings 5 mins apart lasting for hours at a time but I refused to call the IM until I had something more exciting to tell her than just that we had been fooling around in the bedroom. Saying goodbye was tough because I doubted that he would be back in time for the birth.<br />
<div style="color: #073763; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"> </span><span style="color: #073763;"><span style="color: #351c75;">37 weeks 2 days: </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrYWVsRgKy3dDEpFc2cEXKhaXZHnk9XWJkjBCy-f2h126CtcTVl215GdSD4_mJ8m5srVeV8H9oDMkkLhTN7xwTRqgUq0GwvBXB1reVawvc6kAhlSNdpY_WqDNY0AONOYnjITfW7xPPTg/s1600/Elliana37w2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrYWVsRgKy3dDEpFc2cEXKhaXZHnk9XWJkjBCy-f2h126CtcTVl215GdSD4_mJ8m5srVeV8H9oDMkkLhTN7xwTRqgUq0GwvBXB1reVawvc6kAhlSNdpY_WqDNY0AONOYnjITfW7xPPTg/s320/Elliana37w2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="color: #073763;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;"> </span>Mick finally arrived home at 39+2 which is the most pregnant I had ever been. We did all we could to try to encourage bub to vacate but she was having none of that. By 41 weeks I was exhausted, emotional, sick of contractions that did nothing and ready to call it quits. I was fantasising about begging for a stretch and sweep, ARM, anything to get things started. Bub had quietened down movement wise and of course my mind went into overdrive thinking that something was wrong with me being post dates. <br />
<div style="color: #351c75; text-align: center;"> 39 weeks 2 days: </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYk__gcToBtX3if5oBsixhPbZmgDnqJWhGGv57dM87xZ5FsMSzDmgNgKkdqjl0fGVmtOU1AUoKtbtgz0laEc2BBcwQZcUq_VIFomv5IsW91iTnb1lDlorEU8qAzHFvi8rbzwVef5XdwnM/s1600/Eliiana39w2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYk__gcToBtX3if5oBsixhPbZmgDnqJWhGGv57dM87xZ5FsMSzDmgNgKkdqjl0fGVmtOU1AUoKtbtgz0laEc2BBcwQZcUq_VIFomv5IsW91iTnb1lDlorEU8qAzHFvi8rbzwVef5XdwnM/s400/Eliiana39w2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
T came out and checked up on me after a teary phone call and reassured me that bub was fine and just sleeping. She suggested that I book acupuncture to try to get things started. I was stressing so much as we were moving house three weeks after my EDD. She gave me a couple of numbers and I managed to score an appointment for the next afternoon. She told us to keep her updated if anything changed.<br />
<br />
That night (Tuesday) at 9:00pm my tightening stretched out to eight minutes apart but got stronger. I couldn’t sleep through them anymore so I spent a couple of hours rocking on the fitball with my laptop on the couch chatting away on Facebook chat and MSN.<br />
<br />
At around 5:00am I tried to crawl back into bed but the tightening didn’t let up. Every eight minutes I was being woken by them and it hurt like hell to lie down so I gave up! The kids were up anyway so I made them breakfast and got on with our day, stopping every 8 minutes to rock through a tightening. I had been burning clary sage like a crazy women by this stage. It helped speed up contractions with DS's birth so I was hoping it would help again. I cancelled my acupuncture appointment. There was no way that I was getting in the car with tightening like this! I sent a text message to T to let her know what was happening. She was pretty casual about it all and told me to sms let her know when I felt like I needed her here. <br />
<br />
All day and all night the tightening continued. I was dozing lightly between them and pretty much ignoring the kids. Thankfully Mick took them into the yard so that I could have some quiet time. He had partly filled the birth pool that morning and I had showed him where everything was that we would need for the birth. I had oils, candles, towels, and plastic sheeting all ready to go.<br />
<br />
At one stage through the day my tightening dropped back to 20 minutes apart. I cried not knowing how much longer I could go on like this. I was getting shooting pains in my hips and thighs. I messaged T to see what she could suggest to relieve the pain and she said to try the bath or walking up the stairs sideways with one foot higher than the other to get bub to shift off the nerve that was causing me grief. It did nothing so I gave up and went back to rocking through tightening. They picked back up to eight minutes apart around 5:00pm.<br />
<br />
I was so glad when Mick put the kids to bed for the night. They were making me lose my focus which made the tightening hurt more. If I breathed through them I was fine and they weren't really that bad.<br />
<br />
I wandered between our bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, backyard. I went upstairs and downstairs just trying to increase the regularity of the tightening. They stubbornly stayed at eight minutes apart the whole time. Mick wanted to call T but I promised DH we would call her when there were three contractions in 10 minutes. Honestly I refused to get excited till my waters broke or I felt a head. I had been labouring for so long that I was kind of in denial that it was ever going to end.<br />
<br />
I tried the bathtub upstairs. There was no point filling the pool if I hated being in water. I lasted three contractions before I got really irritated at being confined in the bath. I tried it again in an hour and felt the same. I only lasted three contractions again before I got irate. I didn’t even bother to dress myself after this bath. I just threw on a satin robe and knickers. I had to pee so I went to the toilet in the bathroom and felt a bit of pressure change.<br />
<br />
At this stage I realised that labour was starting to pick up in intensity so I went back downstairs to get some snacks to get me through the rest of my labour. I grabbed a muesli bar and made up a jug of Gatorade. I managed one sip of Gatorade before I felt that I needed to empty my bowels. I had been waiting for the diarrhoea to start to clean out my body as a sign that bub was getting closer. I ran to the downstairs toilet before another tightening hit. It felt so good sitting there through the tightening. It was definitely the most comfortable place I had been my whole labour. Strange since I had dreaded the thought of a bathroom stop for the last 2 days. <br />
<br />
I had another tightening almost instantly. I called out to DH to call T and he asked what I wanted to tell her. He was still on the computer letting me do my thing. He had no idea what was happening! The robe felt wrong all of a sudden so I ripped it off and threw it out the door. I told him to let her know I felt pressure. First time he called it rang out, 2nd time he got through. By then the head was already out.<br />
<br />
<br />
He panicked and said to T, “Lee’s pushing!!” He asked her what she wanted him to do and she told him to go and catch his baby and call back when he could and she was on her way.<br />
<br />
With the next surge my beautiful gooey baby slipped straight into the toilet bowl. I grabbed her by one arm as she hit the bowl and broke the waters. She was born in the caul.<br />
<br />
The feeling of bring my baby who I birthed by myself to my chest was amazing. I instinctively flipped her over so that all the fluid could drain from her mouth and nose. She was a tiny bit gurgly so I left her laying over my arm and rubbing her back while talking to her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLpIBST6Q8KZGYVrPFrivNDwoHTMvvFWMb9liNPxTRB68DP4_be131KHYz4gtoDJW0yytjX7C-D_hQzx4Tad1OsPTuDJlrqZ0ee9NweIWyPyCCsayegh_ENvDhG074l9qjw7jJk9VrhDY/s1600/EllianaBorn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLpIBST6Q8KZGYVrPFrivNDwoHTMvvFWMb9liNPxTRB68DP4_be131KHYz4gtoDJW0yytjX7C-D_hQzx4Tad1OsPTuDJlrqZ0ee9NweIWyPyCCsayegh_ENvDhG074l9qjw7jJk9VrhDY/s400/EllianaBorn.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOCNhulTW3qtsmQ3RGfMlPqaopZyxG5zkybbCOibSj2_SerOvPzYxPRpOjfHdpuQCNDwGg3qpKI-BGUt1k_TK2iMD0bY-ESpE0tLUHgh8Shb0n4i5wg0ezggZlu1b67OsG_OIHebW4so/s1600/Elliana1min.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOCNhulTW3qtsmQ3RGfMlPqaopZyxG5zkybbCOibSj2_SerOvPzYxPRpOjfHdpuQCNDwGg3qpKI-BGUt1k_TK2iMD0bY-ESpE0tLUHgh8Shb0n4i5wg0ezggZlu1b67OsG_OIHebW4so/s400/Elliana1min.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Hubby called T back and she asked if bub was OK and what we have. We hadn’t even thought to check. My heart had been telling me “girl” since conception and I was right. She was breathing fine, I wasn’t bleeding much and everyone was happy so I told her not to rush. Mick grabbed some towels to keep us warm and we all moved to the lounge room.<br />
<br />
While T was on her way we did the ring around and let people know that our baby was earthside. When I spoke to my mum she asked if we needed an ambulance? Was she breathing? Was I bleeding too much? Did I need her to rush down to help? I reassured her that everything was perfect and we would let her know when we had more details. I made her promise not to come over that night. All I wanted was to go and crawl into my bed with just the three of us for a little while before the other two children woke for the day.<br />
<br />
About 25 minutes after Elliana was born I started to feel contractions again and OMG!! These ones hurt more than my entire labour ones had. Mick had put the colander and bowl on the floor for me while we waited for the placenta to be birthed. After a few more tightenings I felt it drop to my cervix and went and squatted over the bowl and gently pushed and it came out in seconds. It was perfectly whole. <br />
<br />
It took T 45 minutes to get to our house thanks to road works and closures. By the time she got there the placenta was in the bowl infront of me, Elliana was happily dozing while feeding and I was desperate for a cup of tea but Mick made me wait till T got there. Big meanie. lol<br />
<br />
She did the usual checks on bub and confirmed that she was perfect, checked for tears and helped me have a shower while DH got to know his daughter. Thankfully I had only a tiny graze. She tucked me into bed and said she would be back to check us the next morning. I think she was at our house for less than two hours that night.<br />
<br />
We dozed and fed all night. At 5:00am Ciara woke up and came into our bed as she normally does. The kids had no idea what had happened the night before! DD1 was dozing in DH arms and heard Elliana grunt and snuffle.<br />
<br />
The look on her face when she realised there was a baby in our bed was magical. “Look Mumma! Baby! She has hands and legs too, Just like me.” ♥ ♥ ♥<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">49hrs 13 minutes of labour<br />
9lb 4oz (4200g)<br />
35.5cm H/C </div><div style="text-align: center;"> ~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;">Breastfeeding Elliana, 10 weeks old.</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGJkSvHG53c0Ihv32rKJO4s3To72o6uTuIqTjNGx6_AZzxYGXj4G4fGfjFJI2W7351jo52kZUFyqWpuKwy0jDk_-rmBFcGp1kwPwNNO7LfBxdJeNA_14UyGQLSvxocYEAkgRNqd7kk4s/s1600/Elliana10w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGJkSvHG53c0Ihv32rKJO4s3To72o6uTuIqTjNGx6_AZzxYGXj4G4fGfjFJI2W7351jo52kZUFyqWpuKwy0jDk_-rmBFcGp1kwPwNNO7LfBxdJeNA_14UyGQLSvxocYEAkgRNqd7kk4s/s640/Elliana10w.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">♥ Lee is currently pregnant with baby number 4, and is planning a Freebirth in April 2011 ♥</span>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-81111414963689334422010-11-06T19:20:00.000+11:002010-11-06T19:20:15.849+11:00The Homebirth of Piper Grace- a guest blog by Patricia Shoesmith.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Homebirth of Piper Grace</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">~a guest blog by Patricia Shoesmith.</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Sunday 18th July I woke up to DH's alarm he had set as he was going fishing and I was very upset that I was STILL pregnant. I went absolutely berserk yelling at him that how dare he go fishing when I was so heavily pregnant. I told him in the end to just go and I went back to bed in tears. I was then woken by the kids at 9am ish and I decided it actually might be a nice day to go out near the waters edge and get some fresh air, I was right, it was gorgeous.We had a lazy afternoon and by the end of the night I was ready to go to bed still not expecting anything to happen. I had a few tightenings which I just put down as braxton hicks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Monday morning I woke at 6am to a very nauseous feeling and period pain cramps in my lower tummy, back pain and a slight leaky feeling but upon looking when going to the loo saw nothing. Told Alex (hubby) he wasn't going to work today as I think baby is coming today but to go back to sleep as things were still only mildly happening. Kids woke at 7:15am and at 7:30am I had to run to the loo with a huge urge to poo, Not fun while still getting pains (at this stage the pains were around 10-12minutes apart but I wasn't timing anything)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">We were supposed to be having a midwife appointment at 1pm but I rang her and asked her to come out early as I thought things were starting to happen. Diane arrived at 10:30am and upon checking discovered bub was already 3/5engaged which had happened quick as bub was still floating a few days before hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The pains I was having were getting stronger the more I walked around so I was ordered to get some rest and eat as much energy food as possibly and drink lots of fluid as we were possibly in for a long day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Kids down for a sleep at 12:30 and I sent Alex off to the shop to get some last minute supplies while I went to rest too. I tried lying down on my left side, my right side, Propped up but it was all uncomfortable. I then decided to shove as many pillows under my boobs as possible and lay with my bum in the air. Ahhh, Bliss. Pains subsided and I was able to rest for a while. Not timing again but I knew my contractions were still not regular.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Around 2ish we started to get the birthing pool ready and we had to get Emelia organised to go up to Alex's grandparents house as she was getting upset with each contraction. The pains started getting more painful and at 3:30pm ish I decided I really needed to get in the shower to have some relief, it was nice but not what I needed so got out at 4pm ish and just did what I could until there was enough water in the pool. Alex was making calls to Diane while I was doing my thing and she said to keep letting her know what was going on and she would come to us as soon as contractions were 2-3minutes apart as she was backup to a VBAC (I knew the lady that was labouring too and now our daughters share birthdays!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">At around 5pm ish I got into the pool, There was only enough water to just touch my butt when on my knees so I sank in as much as possible and ordered Alex to pour water on my back during a contraction in between him running around like a mad chook getting things ready. He was stressing but bless him, He did so well lol</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I'm not sure when the pool was half filled but we ran out of water in the heat pump and Alex said we'd have to wait 20minutes for more hot water. No worries I said. That was all well and good until my contractions really picked up pace and I said don't worry about the fogging water just pour water down my back and get me a hot freaking towel to sit on it! Alex kept trying to ring Diane but couldn't get through and I heard him say "Oh no". I replied with what's wrong and he told me he couldn't reach her, I said "Do you see me panicking?" Haha. Diane rang back straight away and said she was getting ready to leave to come to us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">At about 10minutes to 6pm (5minutes ish after him ringing Diane) Alex noticed I was already starting to groan and grunt with each contraction, He said to me are you pushing? I said don't be stupid, It's too early to push now! (I was not knowingly fighting my bodies urge to push at this stage) He then got on the phone and called Diane and said I think she's pushing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I didn't realise I was having the urge to push and was fighting it; It felt soooo different to Dom and Emelia's births that the feelings I was having confused me in a way. Diane walked through the door at about 6:13pm (from looking back at notes) and sat down next to the pool with me getting ready to time my contractions with the iphone app. We didn't get to use it lol. I asked Diane if it was too early to push and she asked what I was feeling, I said it felt good to push and grunt through them so she said to go with my body so going with it I went. I pushed and felt my waters break, what an awesome relief that was (the feeling of them breaking was amazing, I felt the "pop" inside me and instantly felt so much relief).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I think it was about another 3 pushes and a few hard core grunts that I felt her crown and felt the burn start to come, I reached down and felt her head and almost cried, I could not believe how amazing it felt to feel my babies head, I'd never felt that before so was amazed. Another push and half her head was born then another and her whole head was out, It felt amazing! I had never felt something so smooth and amazing before.</span><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncu6u-CYZlZv-1Mxj1T6SLM23PuaN07EWze7A9VVbHum6JxTy3FF0p9lVQwf_z4bdfDugF1kIcRa9pp3EaBuEp-ga-1IyHv75y4K_qECSKtA3kf8I30G6flzqX1JlPBNOl34SWjPSA9g/s1600/SDC10821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncu6u-CYZlZv-1Mxj1T6SLM23PuaN07EWze7A9VVbHum6JxTy3FF0p9lVQwf_z4bdfDugF1kIcRa9pp3EaBuEp-ga-1IyHv75y4K_qECSKtA3kf8I30G6flzqX1JlPBNOl34SWjPSA9g/s320/SDC10821.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Once her head was out I got a small break from the contractions; it was nice to regain some breath haha, with the next contraction her body was born and Diane said to reach down and get my baby. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhi4drbLKshzlCoa3s6JRXE-N2rKPXsYvnFrzl3xrDJa5Oels2TE8ITfdj3Nv310scfBbvImrSvQ27dYlvUrp6AEEfurAfS9nNGT1C8ZA5IUyHbWps_AUthlkDIp98Xbn33Oq_xHSyNI/s1600/SDC10823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhi4drbLKshzlCoa3s6JRXE-N2rKPXsYvnFrzl3xrDJa5Oels2TE8ITfdj3Nv310scfBbvImrSvQ27dYlvUrp6AEEfurAfS9nNGT1C8ZA5IUyHbWps_AUthlkDIp98Xbn33Oq_xHSyNI/s320/SDC10823.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Her cord was wrapped around her neck once so we untangled that and I held her close to me... Totally in love and so emotional that I had actually done it! I had birthed my baby my way in my home and I was the first one to touch her. I did it!!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqNxLIDZUl5XUqcGFU70Ts4I3LkPSbJNmU7A86vBuacEPtM2i33on_Pfv1YmtWRUtCqU-6SkqGuEbpLtUH8Kte0mBiM_hqnJ-Tq-fo8NpI8w1WsKF7srKlrYt-bvieSIkeuGBeY-0H1k/s1600/SDC10825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqNxLIDZUl5XUqcGFU70Ts4I3LkPSbJNmU7A86vBuacEPtM2i33on_Pfv1YmtWRUtCqU-6SkqGuEbpLtUH8Kte0mBiM_hqnJ-Tq-fo8NpI8w1WsKF7srKlrYt-bvieSIkeuGBeY-0H1k/s320/SDC10825.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Her cord was really short so I decided to stay in the pool until her cord finished pulsating so it could be cut and I get out of the pool (I felt uneasy getting out holding her and navigating around her small cord) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">While in the pool I passed a few quite large clots and had a bit of bleeding and borderline a PPH so felt very woozy for a while.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimzwvAfOXUmu8_msiXKi-Rgq4AGR2hX2pYv0hfZ5UN4qiRtFtvBbaH6yS6L2Q-UDUzl9OvB54lj9mMoYI_ITeLqtiWhGPI8Gmsyt2LZy4xMLnGEYJrLiVYFI9KueSIHsfOSMe6u4j70q8/s1600/SDC10832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimzwvAfOXUmu8_msiXKi-Rgq4AGR2hX2pYv0hfZ5UN4qiRtFtvBbaH6yS6L2Q-UDUzl9OvB54lj9mMoYI_ITeLqtiWhGPI8Gmsyt2LZy4xMLnGEYJrLiVYFI9KueSIHsfOSMe6u4j70q8/s320/SDC10832.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgHBELoONgVv6prKZAtP-AY3tD7ZG3tD57rJHcyODNAPavQhi-7ooOAeoLWlCi-bvWZI2n0ycZ68HcF421RTYAa2wx5rM9a2EYR33sHrweIJYd6EYfRwD8AIG3K9tV_wn5e7ip5DqhR0/s1600/SDC10828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgHBELoONgVv6prKZAtP-AY3tD7ZG3tD57rJHcyODNAPavQhi-7ooOAeoLWlCi-bvWZI2n0ycZ68HcF421RTYAa2wx5rM9a2EYR33sHrweIJYd6EYfRwD8AIG3K9tV_wn5e7ip5DqhR0/s320/SDC10828.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Once out of the pool I went straight to the bedroom got propped up with pillows and let Piper breast crawl to begin feeding. She had a few licks and sucks but wasn't interested in feeding just yet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I then felt another contraction start and pushed with it and birthed my placenta (this was about 20ish minutes after Piper was born) my placenta was almost as big as Piper was! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">We weighed her after a while and we were all shocked at how big she was, we were thinking she'd be another 7pounder (like my other 2) but we were so wrong but boy did I love and appreciate my body! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">We then got Emelia brought back down and all sat snuggled on the bed getting to know our gorgeous new 9pound 15ounce bundle of joy <3</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwfVzioi6gyJTMaWj4GqQBEvxwsa2NXVRdiY3OhwRb0mIcWHsNMvxNw9eUluFK5olqVBN5vTaWdKCEU4RaM4YC_adF0AlmemwkRJ1X2ottZKxyVgfjcM0598PDHu32yhqqJ8dscOOM2W8/s1600/piper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwfVzioi6gyJTMaWj4GqQBEvxwsa2NXVRdiY3OhwRb0mIcWHsNMvxNw9eUluFK5olqVBN5vTaWdKCEU4RaM4YC_adF0AlmemwkRJ1X2ottZKxyVgfjcM0598PDHu32yhqqJ8dscOOM2W8/s320/piper.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-72433713158677358842010-11-01T00:07:00.001+11:002010-11-01T00:22:09.243+11:00The Birth of Zeke Connor Jasper- Born Still. Guest post by Pia Legge<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Birth of Zeke Connor Jasper- Born Still. </b></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Guest post by Pia Legge</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccn5YX3XpAm8h3zXsjzsr2FWEVovYW9aQFyMLAKxkO4BTtUlWoxEuB61HhEY5WsQbcI4hk6eoscLWZpDANzSJEMxi8K2ITTtmrCgie60vXJgmXUfh2XB9zK1YxqXf3Ttgf0nyYBqNa2U/s1600/Happy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccn5YX3XpAm8h3zXsjzsr2FWEVovYW9aQFyMLAKxkO4BTtUlWoxEuB61HhEY5WsQbcI4hk6eoscLWZpDANzSJEMxi8K2ITTtmrCgie60vXJgmXUfh2XB9zK1YxqXf3Ttgf0nyYBqNa2U/s320/Happy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In January of 2009, I had a dream that I would be birthing a babe at home in our bath, that’s where my idea for a homebirth came into my head. I had no idea how close to the mark I really was.<br />
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This pregnancy felt different from the beginning. It took us longer to conceive you. At the mind, body and spirit expo, I asked a psychic about you and she said that you were having trouble connecting body and soul and maybe the spirit guides had not talked to you yet. This worried me too. I was also worried about miscarrying from the beginning and thought it was because I knew more about it and how sadly common it was. I was sicker for longer and was bedridden for weeks at a time. I was also finding it hard to get a solid connection with you. That happened at our 12w scan where you were wiggling and waving to us. I now have that DVD to cherish forever. I believed you were a boy in the beginning but kept getting mixed messages about your gender and then felt you were more a girl....well mummy was wrong I am sorry to say.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I struggled with hyperemesis for 12w and was starting to feel great improvements around 16w. I spent from 10w to 13w in bed and only got up if I really needed. This was a huge struggle for us all. I felt quite down and started to wonder if I was happy about having another baby.....this feeling I regret and will continue to for the rest of my life. I could feel movements from around 11w if I was really still in bed. That feeling is truly the most wonderful thing a mother can have. I would lie in bed stroking my belly and talking to you. I will miss that feeling.<br />
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We were all ready to go at our 12w scan and I was excited about seeing you. Did you look like your brother, were you as busy as he was, would you behave for the sonographer....lol. Yes you did behave but you didn’t really have the same activity as your brother but you had a fantastic strong heart rate of 164bpm. I felt really reassured that things would be great. I started planning your home birth with much excitement as I had dreamed about. I would sometimes feel more excited at the prospect of birthing you at home instead of having a baby. I couldn’t get my head around the prospect of having you.....for this I didn’t know why.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was booked into the BC at Monash in the beginning as I didn’t know if DH would agree to a HB. We talked about it after I had been getting some pains in my groin at 9 + 3w and we were in the hospital overnight in emergency. I decided that a hospital was for sick people and giving birth is not a sickness so I found a wonderful IM and set up a meeting and we connected straight away. I made DH ask her questions and raise the fears he had. After she left, we agreed that it would be for us. I asked questions and read info and watched Youtube homebirths and hoped mine would be as amazing and beautiful as some of those women. There were also some terrible losses but is it wrong to think that it would never happen to me? <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I felt everyday was getting better and better. The hyperemesis became ‘morning sickness’. It was easier to tolerate and I was becoming more excited about your presence. I started looking at nappies and baby clothes and even ventured out of the house to the shopping centre at 16w to look for some things for you. We were not finding out whether you were a boy or girl as the surprise after all mummy’s hard would be far more rewarding and your daddy wanted to tell me what had surprised us. I was looking forward to that.<br />
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The weeks seemed to be flying by. I loved sharing my progress with my Due In February Group and reading birth stories and couldn’t wait to share mine, if it was half as good as my dream then I was going to love it and you would come into the world with ease and joy. I had it all planned out but as far as planning a birth...well nothing is predictable. My birth plan was written that I was not to be touched and wanted to birth pretty much without any intervention.Our IM was happy to be in another room till I was ready to have her present. We could wait till after the birth if we felt ok. Being my 4th babe, I could see no reason why I would need any help, but again every pregnancy and labour is different. <br />
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We were borrowing a pool from a lovely friend and I was so excited and had envisioned my birthing space. I was looking forward to shopping for my candles to burn during labour and have the smell remind me for a long time afterwards. I would be having a blessingway in Dec when I would be meeting a lovely new friend whom I had been chatting to online for over a year. She was over in WA and was coming to my side of town. How wonderful to be sharing this journey with some amazing people. The hype and excitement everyone felt was rubbing off on me. I was getting excited. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"> I went shopping with my MIL on Monday 24th August. I was excited to be getting out and bought DS2 a new car seat so we could put you in his car seat. We had a coffee and a chat about things and I said that I had been getting some cramping type pain so things must be growing in there. I was worried I was not as big as I thought I should be at 16 + 4w. I barely had a pot. I had taken pictures of my growing belly from 7w as I didn’t document with any other pregnancies. I had a Dr’s app on the Wednesday so would ask her then. I was feeling movements so was at ease with the whole thing. <br />
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I went to my app and forgot to ask her about the pains I was getting. My BP was good, fundal height measuring normal and we tried to listen for a heartbeat but I knew that it was too early to hear anything. Before 20w is quite hard on a Doppler so wasn’t worried at all. Neither was she. My MS was getting better so we both thought that things were looking up in the second trimester. I said that I was getting movements and was reassured by those. I was sent on my way. I posted a thread on Births and asked whether anyone else had the same AF type feeling.....yes was the consensus. Ok nothing to worry about.<br />
I went to see a girlfriend who was due to have her little one the next day and was hoping to go into labour asap. This was the most I had driven in months and was happy to get home after lunch. I was feeling quite tired. My appetite had picked up too so was thinking I on the home straight with morning sickness. <br />
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<ul><li><b>Thursday 27th August 2009, I will never forget.</b></li>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbURcQj8pbx3BBNcIOdmfKc7w61H-EpVmIEpcyvKhVoTJM75HCdbxNELL8e6q8ctiMpz2OZeu8JO7lA5Vq570FQJZqpZoKHcfKn7e4p-blsLP01BgODDn4tccBQiFLkTFxIe0v-8wsBY/s1600/17w3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbURcQj8pbx3BBNcIOdmfKc7w61H-EpVmIEpcyvKhVoTJM75HCdbxNELL8e6q8ctiMpz2OZeu8JO7lA5Vq570FQJZqpZoKHcfKn7e4p-blsLP01BgODDn4tccBQiFLkTFxIe0v-8wsBY/s320/17w3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I was playing with DS2 and needed to go to the toilet. Nothing abnormal there.....typical pg symptom right??? I went and when I wiped there was blood....not bright red but as I had never had spotting before I was a bit worried. I rang my Dr and spoke to the nurse there. She was not worried till I mentioned the cramping. It was suggested that I visit the hospital to get an idea of what was happening via US. I rang my mum to take me and look after DS2 and then DH to see if he could come home from work and off we went. Talking to my mum on the way, we were trying to think of why I would have some bleeding. I think at that point every woman is looking for reasons why she is having problems.<br />
Once at emergency, I was told I would get through a bit faster than others. I sent a txt to a few friends asking them to keep us in their thoughts and send sticky vibes. I was shit scared at this point. <br />
True to their word we were brought into the examination room about half an hour later. The lovely nurse there had a feel of my belly and asked the usual q’s. She then repeated that an US would be the only way to determine the cause of the bleeding. They would try and get us in as soon as they could. As DH and myself were sitting there I could feel the ‘pains’ coming more frequently and then moving around into my back. I know in my heart of hearts that this was the beginning of the end. I was in denial. This wasn’t happening. I had just exerted myself the day before and pulled something away to cause the bleeding...I was not losing my much loved and now anticipated babe...surely not. As I was lying there waiting for the US, I was sure the babe was moving around. I even kidded myself that there was kicks and bumps.<br />
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We were taken into the US room and I couldn’t see the screen. DH was sitting across the room and had full view. The sonographer asked how far along I thought I was and I replied 17w today. I was hoping to get a glimpse of our babe wiggling around in there. She seemed quite agitated when moving the scanner around. I thought maybe she is grumpy as she had to fit us in on a busy day. I wish that was the reason. She said that she would have to take some pics then she would tell us what she found. Sounds reasonable to me. She typed things in, moved the scanner, and pressed hard on my belly. I was starting to feel nervous and uncomfortable. She was taking too long. She checked my kidneys. I just wanted to see my babe. I couldn’t see DH’s face at all throughout this and had no idea what he could see. <br />
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Finally she turned to me and as she did I already knew. I didn’t want to hear her words. I wanted to get up and leave and not hear what I have read so many times and cried before. “I am so sorry, but there is no heartbeat” Your babe is smaller than your dates. Approx 14ish w. How could this happen.....No this was not happening. She had made a mistake. I have felt movements....WTF. She asked whether I wanted to see pics....Of course I did but had no idea what I was looking at. There just seemed to be a blob on the screen. There was no flickering of a heart beat. The screen was silent. Not the babe we saw moving at our 12w scan. NO NO NO. I am numb. She went to get someone to confirm what she said. He came in and asked the same crap and said I am sorry it doesn’t look good. OMG no way....this is not happening. I read about this but no this is not happening to us. How can I cry for women who have been told the same thing but when I am told the same, I feel numb? I start crying then, sobbing really and keep asking the same thing.....why, why, why. Did I do something wrong? This is not right, this is not how it’s meant to be. DH is hugging me and telling me it’s ok. We will be ok. How can we be ok...our baby is gone. I am really struggling for words and can’t get my breath. I am numb.....I can’t comprehend what I am to feel. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><ul><li><b>The realisation.</b></li>
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How can my body be so cruel? I am still vomiting in the morning and feel nausea on and off. Why am I still ‘feeling movements’? I am sobbing in the emergency section and don’t care who hears. I have lost something that I can never get back. My body has failed me. There are no signs apart from the cramps that something is wrong. There is no more blood. People come and go. Nurses come and talk to us. I don’t understand what this means. What happens next? Tissues are everywhere on the bed and my nose is raw and my eyes are burning. This is not right. DH is trying to be strong for me. I feel for him. He has lost his baby too today. I tell him I am so sorry, and he tells me there is no need, I am not to blame. More nurses come in and check obs. I am numb. Autopilot kicks in. I am so tired. I want this to be a dream. I tell DH to wake me when it’s all over. To tell me it’s not happening and I am dreaming. I am lying there rubbing my belly and it feels hard. The pains are coming more frequently. I am offered pain relief which I refuse. I have not taken anything before and won’t start now. The pain makes it easier to ‘cope’ with. I am told that if I want something then just ask. They can ease my pain.....not even close I think. The pain hasn’t even started. I have no idea what is to come. <br />
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The head GynOb comes down from the ward. She is lovely and by this stage I ‘pretend’ its not happening to me. I ask questions, she answers, DH asks questions, she replies. It is suggested that tomorrow I go to another hospital for a D&C. Something happens within me. I agree, ask more questions. I ask how it’s performed and what the process is. She explains it as delicately as she can. I know what’s involved and can’t imagine my babe fitting through a tube no bigger than a pen tube. I know my babe won’t be born this way. I won’t allow it. I take the envelope with the tablets I am to insert at 10am to soften my cervix. I know I won’t be using them. How I know this, I have no idea.<br />
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We leave and make our way to my parents place. We still have to tell my 2 older children who are aged 15 and 13. They know I had to go to hospital but have no idea why. DH picks them up and brings them over. We sit and tell them that there will be no baby. Something has happened that we have no control over and our babe is no longer with us. I am to have ‘surgery’ tomorrow to remove ‘it’. The responses are as I expect shock then tears. Is it something we have done or said? No of course not....this is not anyone’s fault. It just is. We will light a candle for our special babe and remember ‘her’. We called ‘her’ Grace just so we have a name and not just ‘it’. Dinner is served but I am not hungry. I eat because I have to and try to ignore the pains coming every 20mins. Denial again. I tell DH we need to go home. <br />
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At home I ask for my wheat bag for my back. The pain is getting intense and I pretend it’s not happening and search the internet to take my mind off things. I then decide to have a shower and rub my belly and tell my babe that it’s ok to go now. We know that the time has come and understand. I am sobbing in the shower. I give DS2 booby and he is asleep in no time. This encourages more pains. Everyone goes to bed around 11.00pm. I know I should be sleeping but the pains are now 11 mins apart.</div><ul><li><b> The Birth </b></li>
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I go to bed around midnight and know our babe will be here by morning and I am still timing the contractions. They are still 11 mins apart but are getting more intense. I can’t sleep but don’t want to walk. I am holding on as long as possible. I am scared. Do I want to have my babe at home? Should we head to the hospital? There is no more blood so there is no need to panic. I was told to head back in if there is heavy bleeding. I put a towel down on the bed. I try and snooze but at 3am DS2 wakes. This is not what he normally does. The chemistry has changed in our house. I can feel it. My uterus is hard as a rock and is the size of an orange sitting in the pit of my stomach. I touch it and marvel at how the body works. This is really happening now. There is no backing out. Instinct kicks in. I trust my body. This is what we are made to do. I breathe through the contractions that are coming on top of one another. This is really labour, but how can this be? The pain is intense and I can feel myself heading towards transition. It’s been less than an hour since the contractions ramped up a level. DH holds my hand, kisses me and tells me he loves me. He is here with me. I apologise after each contraction and again he tells me there is no need. Our babe is ready to leave us.<br />
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I feel a pop and know I have to get up. I grab the towel and rush to the bath. I place the towel on the bottom of the bath and DH helps me take my undies off. There is blood and I have left some on the tiles. I say I hope there is none in the bed or on the carpet. He tells me he doesn’t care. I am crying, breathing, panting, and shaking. I can’t help myself. I know the end is near. We will be meeting our angel before too long. I instinctively get on all fours and DH gets me a warm washer and places it on my back. DS2 is calling out and crying. DH is torn between us. He asks whether I want him to call for an ambulance. I don’t. I tell him to go to DS. He trusts me and my body and shuts the door and I know that I am ready. I am at peace with this and the first push a clot come away. It’s not big. I wait a minute. There is barely the urge to push but away comes our Zeke Connor Jasper L.egge. He is lying on his side. I have no idea what to do. I am still on all 4’s but need to sit. I am shaking from shock. I want to sit and hold him but don’t want to squash him. We are still attached and I see the cord. I know he is lifeless but still hope even though I know there is none. I sob, our baby, our baby. I am so sorry this has happened. <br />
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I call for DH to come and get me a cloth to put him in so he doesn’t get cold. His body is perfect. 10 fingers, 10 toes, and everything as it should be. His eyes are open and so is his mouth. His eyes are dark like his dad’s and brothers. He looks similar to his brother. His fingernails are perfect. He is tiny and perfect. Between 3-4 inches long and he fitted perfectly in the palm of my hand. We are crying, DH has called the ambo’s and my mum. DH is telling I am amazing to have done this and holds his tiny baby and together we check what the gender is because I am moving the legs. We see that it is indeed a boy and I kick myself that I didn’t trust my intuition. We sob and cry together and hold our son. We both lost him. He was born at 3.58am 28th August 2009. <br />
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The ambos get there just after my mum. Mum comes in to the bathroom to see me and can’t believe what she is seeing. It was quite confronting. I was contracting still but the pain was not as bad as before. I think the pain is numbed by shock. When the ambos arrive, they come in to see me holding Zeke and sobbing. I thank them for coming. <br />
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Out come the scissors and I ask whether dad can cut the cord. He does and I feel so glad that we are making this as ‘normal’ as possible. DH takes Zeke and places him in a container as we will have to take him to the hospital with us. I am helped out of the bath. I don’t have much blood loss as yet. For this I am thankful. Mum gets me out of the bath and we get me dressed. I am shaking so hard that my teeth are rattling. I can’t stop. This is shock. I am feeling so proud that my son was born and not removed from my body by strangers. We saw him, held him and touched him. I have faith in my body to birth but feel such loss that I didn’t carry him to term. <br />
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We arrive at the hospital and we are given a private room. I am sobbing and touching Zeke. He is so perfect. I spread his fingers and hand across my thumb nail and they still don’t fit across. They are so small. There is a blur of dr’s, nurses, more nurses, gyno’s and a social worker. DH keeps looking at me with tears in my eyes and saying I am amazing and he loves me so much. We talk about what happens next regarding Zeke. He can come home with us and we can organise our own funeral or they can organise part of it and we can do the rest from home. He is less than 20w so it’s still classified as a miscarriage. We know he is so much more than that. We decided to cremate so we can scatter his ashes as a family. The kids didn’t wake through the night so have no idea what has happened. I did warn them that if something does happen through the night we will be leaving for the hospital. We ask them to think of a name each so we can all take part in naming him. <br />
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We will bring him home at the end of next week. We will have a small service with family and friends and say our goodbyes then.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbotI7YAa0NzY-XRa0mfYZdl_U2LWI-x3v9vk8OX184GPHI7pDwJUj5JCnhJuzenGlWlOAMXhUcE40tlGdIwfVfcN084kBOAwlGwboO8BTmbP_Polsz2WHejMdpEW9xHCS6k7jy1rMYs/s1600/Zekes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbotI7YAa0NzY-XRa0mfYZdl_U2LWI-x3v9vk8OX184GPHI7pDwJUj5JCnhJuzenGlWlOAMXhUcE40tlGdIwfVfcN084kBOAwlGwboO8BTmbP_Polsz2WHejMdpEW9xHCS6k7jy1rMYs/s320/Zekes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Well if you made it this far you’re doing well. Thanks for sharing this journey with me. I am sorry it was not longer but I got my homebirth, even if it was just too early.<br />
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<img alt="" border="0" class="inlineimg" src="http://forum.birth.com.au/images/Smilies-MSN/043.gif" title="043" /> Zeke, you will never hold your mummy’s or daddy’s hands but we held you in ours. We love and miss you and will meet you again some day. Thanks for being a part of our lives even if it was for such a short time. <img alt="" border="0" class="inlineimg" src="http://forum.birth.com.au/images/Smilies-MSN/043.gif" title="043" /><br />
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Love always Mumma, Daddy, J, B, J. <img alt="" border="0" class="inlineimg" src="http://forum.birth.com.au/images/Smilies-MSN/043.gif" title="043" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-78951778379047457782010-09-14T09:39:00.000+10:002010-09-14T09:39:22.355+10:00Blog instalment #2- photos Facebook is likely to remove<b><span style="font-size: small;">Here are some beautiful photographs from Earthy Motherhood members which are guaranteed to invoke censorship- and which are likely to make you smile ♥</span></b><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Mel Wright breastfeeds her son Phoenix- hello beautiful!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRO8HlZsWxnINBQ47d8IMDbj9XBAkaRIxJfC9TQwvyt0ouWIEODKd1coedzC3fIn4mpop_4UxGLyoHYla2WenDtwxafSXigqjuD630E7NPLPlMh_KhxW4j5_ApAbpFekU4aohUAO4CHGw/s1600/melwright.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRO8HlZsWxnINBQ47d8IMDbj9XBAkaRIxJfC9TQwvyt0ouWIEODKd1coedzC3fIn4mpop_4UxGLyoHYla2WenDtwxafSXigqjuD630E7NPLPlMh_KhxW4j5_ApAbpFekU4aohUAO4CHGw/s400/melwright.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3tPhFGmPYbt2MvEFVy6bPpmhLVxL5RHHUleZLn2yPsQxVUxIkMkc6lHxRiSVLZmwS1WFwfJ67pEDlSUjk7dyg0w8yDFmcQze9LEbZO9DzAVuly-UbryVEhpJJ-F3ukT4lbRGjt1QGeU/s1600/blog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3tPhFGmPYbt2MvEFVy6bPpmhLVxL5RHHUleZLn2yPsQxVUxIkMkc6lHxRiSVLZmwS1WFwfJ67pEDlSUjk7dyg0w8yDFmcQze9LEbZO9DzAVuly-UbryVEhpJJ-F3ukT4lbRGjt1QGeU/s400/blog2.jpg" width="225" /></a><b> </b><b>Karah Jackson breastfeeds her delicious cherub on the beach- Fiona is 14 months old here!</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>And below, see what happens when a breastfeeding mama and toddler are hit by a wave- of course you don't unlatch! </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKFjWcNAJh_s25OmLCMk2a2tZsOyUYR5uOAPhaiCNkglHgMDdJdPF8sO1z1wdIi8bxDa7C-JL_yVEaEMgNmE4td1IoBv3AnRameJSx56T9QEUnazQbgXw8xR3rll7SL7r_Kn5iEb8Ee4/s640/blog3.jpg" width="640" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDziuQHDyDjYlo4uDcxVWjJOk7qxcdc8SmKcuwUSBRZ230ltjnO3iBb_jqLlMOtpPYGS657F3AHoyXRDN7rwdoWaqAet1ZQuEG42R_k9c-zUIyLRe1pY0-gQruq-a5faEd2BHYltnAczs/s1600/JessicaHall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDziuQHDyDjYlo4uDcxVWjJOk7qxcdc8SmKcuwUSBRZ230ltjnO3iBb_jqLlMOtpPYGS657F3AHoyXRDN7rwdoWaqAet1ZQuEG42R_k9c-zUIyLRe1pY0-gQruq-a5faEd2BHYltnAczs/s320/JessicaHall.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Jessica Hall rests with her son Ethan after his birth at home- what a content little babe.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJN6wXYcpmMvp4XsZg6unS-iayvR-hnSrBEgL3XSkLSZDUSlx_CwlLWt9GuOMr5wH-qqP5XbM5LXk5fYDnclh_h60RRKuXifvTmTzRp3PZ5nvqttcpZLdxH2NrqtkrYdgvhutGNW42jJY/s1600/blog5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJN6wXYcpmMvp4XsZg6unS-iayvR-hnSrBEgL3XSkLSZDUSlx_CwlLWt9GuOMr5wH-qqP5XbM5LXk5fYDnclh_h60RRKuXifvTmTzRp3PZ5nvqttcpZLdxH2NrqtkrYdgvhutGNW42jJY/s320/blog5.jpg" /></a><b>Krystal Meeker breastfeeds one of her beautiful twin boys</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzsiio-lCuCCirAgkyQcS29UcS2fIwmJvsFqjnjVk92KvAD5y8DrJjx3pJ8iaBTc0j2xQKtLCfrK2jIwFB9GE1eLghf2ATs2UqrggSH7aUaNxVM-s0aQWTIPT6Me1F7GjtdFjcOTn8jk/s1600/blog4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzsiio-lCuCCirAgkyQcS29UcS2fIwmJvsFqjnjVk92KvAD5y8DrJjx3pJ8iaBTc0j2xQKtLCfrK2jIwFB9GE1eLghf2ATs2UqrggSH7aUaNxVM-s0aQWTIPT6Me1F7GjtdFjcOTn8jk/s320/blog4.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Krystal feeds one son while his twin brother pops off for a grin at his Papa</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b><b>~~~</b> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW87KWqx5PYl_WVxNFlWH5JNft_pqozNGdgmPJ9rTP3gyAyhWvmVhWpxUYB_kKlWK6u00qD-fvhLOgWQ1zkYvb8rrTpv0GI3Lo7I7hALXIjFY2JqmGvAepa7PITTkTlT0zt1yWCKDn_Q4/s1600/blogg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW87KWqx5PYl_WVxNFlWH5JNft_pqozNGdgmPJ9rTP3gyAyhWvmVhWpxUYB_kKlWK6u00qD-fvhLOgWQ1zkYvb8rrTpv0GI3Lo7I7hALXIjFY2JqmGvAepa7PITTkTlT0zt1yWCKDn_Q4/s320/blogg.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Christina Matthewson breastfeeds her youngest to sleep in his favourite place to be ♥</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
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</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcj-j_Fm8-ZPKV2Is8xR1TEyknIYo66xZFeCTHETszu9syOI3XpuqwsAphvwSZZFZvEASOFBg6CvsosYbnURUZFi_JXvOS35FKr8a5t4tRcx9mc1ogGJfGBDqMsvX6Hy_R1krb7Eevqyo/s1600/blogg1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcj-j_Fm8-ZPKV2Is8xR1TEyknIYo66xZFeCTHETszu9syOI3XpuqwsAphvwSZZFZvEASOFBg6CvsosYbnURUZFi_JXvOS35FKr8a5t4tRcx9mc1ogGJfGBDqMsvX6Hy_R1krb7Eevqyo/s320/blogg1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>And here is Christina tandem feeding her two beautiful boys- I love the younger one looking to his brother.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
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<b style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If you'd like to have your photos included in next week's blog (or any week) feel free to email me at motheringearth@peacemail.com with your photos, videos and descriptions. </span></span></b> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b></b></div>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-57560455603566819222010-09-02T20:19:00.002+10:002010-09-02T22:52:09.351+10:002nd September- Censored Photographs Republished, Blog #1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Facebook regularly removes beautiful birth, belly and breastfeeding photographs from the profiles and pages who seek to share the beauty inherent in the beginnings of life. I will be publishing these photographs every week on this blog so we can marvel at birth and breastfeeding without wondering how long it will be displayed. Welcome to the first installment of Censored Photographs Republished- Blog #1. </span></span></span><br />
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<b>Melissa Moran shares the beautiful progression from pregnancy to the homebirth of her twins. Simply divine.</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCNklLPW_ZC_vtdKMy47YLJReC7j_XHXjthgzbtfFFpChExngQNKfqkOLZJY3PD4smpc5EQADZ6Xu51eNIm35WNqITe7JZvdz9SlwNKG1OM1kpFAzFprsEH1cIWpPQr0bIo5KBy9eCcp4/s1600/twins1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCNklLPW_ZC_vtdKMy47YLJReC7j_XHXjthgzbtfFFpChExngQNKfqkOLZJY3PD4smpc5EQADZ6Xu51eNIm35WNqITe7JZvdz9SlwNKG1OM1kpFAzFprsEH1cIWpPQr0bIo5KBy9eCcp4/s320/twins1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Here is her lovely son admiring her beautiful belly:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP6FxYvO2Vqpu8xxUAECQ499PT2SOgi5qGvKE5D3wZ_ptAtH-E9kUNWkTe0d9tNX5Nbt94qBwCJpvnehHHkgWLVwmecgQxthl-MtEXoCcU3QJ3qKGUN7ua7vSHkSJgItFDd4aMLvrzCKY/s1600/birth1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP6FxYvO2Vqpu8xxUAECQ499PT2SOgi5qGvKE5D3wZ_ptAtH-E9kUNWkTe0d9tNX5Nbt94qBwCJpvnehHHkgWLVwmecgQxthl-MtEXoCcU3QJ3qKGUN7ua7vSHkSJgItFDd4aMLvrzCKY/s320/birth1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Her first baby is born!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhoie9jhyphenhypheno41EbpaxtWY7uuqaQu_By1dLcEvx2TeBlRpOvEE7cwdCYTwxR9kFG4VIIseyK7X65QiUF-fYqP499s5hxQE5MGyvmMpwQH18ZHodcQGP9hNyoPq3BKmGunqk11GMKpaR7eI/s1600/birth2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhoie9jhyphenhypheno41EbpaxtWY7uuqaQu_By1dLcEvx2TeBlRpOvEE7cwdCYTwxR9kFG4VIIseyK7X65QiUF-fYqP499s5hxQE5MGyvmMpwQH18ZHodcQGP9hNyoPq3BKmGunqk11GMKpaR7eI/s320/birth2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Her second baby is born, she is holding her first baby in her arms wrapped in a blue blanket<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JivBk9ICBPKZwnfnNlHhyJ_owFfeqyksvZ7qhK7Uf3tuelsPnEldl8gs0qw-c-Nnqbm7KT2ZBeI3izPH0QzL1v_WbkTPwffEIDW9j52O_QlURJqIjdfNVTqc9lN88XuVPoM4gA-wBJ8/s1600/birth3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JivBk9ICBPKZwnfnNlHhyJ_owFfeqyksvZ7qhK7Uf3tuelsPnEldl8gs0qw-c-Nnqbm7KT2ZBeI3izPH0QzL1v_WbkTPwffEIDW9j52O_QlURJqIjdfNVTqc9lN88XuVPoM4gA-wBJ8/s320/birth3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Two babes in arms, happy mama<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqxWSmYQl2vrgFQdJIF9abBI4-7maRMQM_3MfgoJ4lo8MroaMmWZEAB3BLDGl2oGosszaB6ccPWemMhH2lqOftkhcxsVN8KGsnOS3C3MJgXWGMy3q0u93iwlo00QTvX1It18-sqiL_Lk/s1600/birth4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqxWSmYQl2vrgFQdJIF9abBI4-7maRMQM_3MfgoJ4lo8MroaMmWZEAB3BLDGl2oGosszaB6ccPWemMhH2lqOftkhcxsVN8KGsnOS3C3MJgXWGMy3q0u93iwlo00QTvX1It18-sqiL_Lk/s320/birth4.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Babygazing <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjZWYKQOjOEQIFOahdm_XsumHRlFK_9S6-5mHKr5yHwGtMBn3IUUjrMyCoMwfy-9WdUtq7QQ13yWUBwjKyLgLVU3ACOSc4Rgz4viwJz2IrPIX-f3iTEzP3pntusvd4-l1rCa-8z0Vldg/s1600/birth8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjZWYKQOjOEQIFOahdm_XsumHRlFK_9S6-5mHKr5yHwGtMBn3IUUjrMyCoMwfy-9WdUtq7QQ13yWUBwjKyLgLVU3ACOSc4Rgz4viwJz2IrPIX-f3iTEzP3pntusvd4-l1rCa-8z0Vldg/s320/birth8.jpg" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmYGAUTdHMB42o8VYkqFR3aAufSTi5vK8Xh81lfV7uI2E28yTtTOC1x8eKcJlT00Gqhc2fLCIvtUz8H4O_6kLppxVfq2ldAV3H9HrYCnHFCKjQM8fq_IholJmpGegizW0jRJRXLeHYew/s1600/birth9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmYGAUTdHMB42o8VYkqFR3aAufSTi5vK8Xh81lfV7uI2E28yTtTOC1x8eKcJlT00Gqhc2fLCIvtUz8H4O_6kLppxVfq2ldAV3H9HrYCnHFCKjQM8fq_IholJmpGegizW0jRJRXLeHYew/s320/birth9.jpg" /></a><br />
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Two little boys asleep together ♥<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Molly Bennett- </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvb7NfnVKUDkScy8WlPjGpSX82FOAO7SmTHuh0uOI-J9tXq25U6-E-MtkmNRrxWOyevU83t8_0ZD2HwFlo8oeVWSBmwiSBR1K9GgxR0V3i5rESDNbFXmWHUR24_nnxDFUFPw4LMmiueoQ/s1600/DSC00886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvb7NfnVKUDkScy8WlPjGpSX82FOAO7SmTHuh0uOI-J9tXq25U6-E-MtkmNRrxWOyevU83t8_0ZD2HwFlo8oeVWSBmwiSBR1K9GgxR0V3i5rESDNbFXmWHUR24_nnxDFUFPw4LMmiueoQ/s320/DSC00886.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: small;">UBAC at home- would of had a midwife but in AK midwives are not allowed to assist with VBACS :( so i midwifed myself after 6 hours of real labor 24 hours including prelabor gave birth to a healthy baby boy (our scale was broken at home so 4 days later weighed in at 8 4oz. 18 1/2 inches long)</span></blockquote><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><b> Rebecca Krywenko -</b><br />
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<blockquote><span style="font-size: small;">A beautiful moment in my life when I caught my 3rd baby... The forewaters were clear, & then when the head emerged the waters were greenish, so the meconium was passed recently, which was ok :)</span></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHYVOh_t_4AqXXuCh6ZEEYyVgF9Se8BCd__mPGPW_OSHoGoKY3DWFY_ucQBTJZH6BiKL-ZzkT2EU6nBxtNP0M217e4-7RQj1reGKWs4n8A95h5-nKm4k5mbrEubqgtIoKsvNrUt9Sc7mo/s1600/rebecca+uc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHYVOh_t_4AqXXuCh6ZEEYyVgF9Se8BCd__mPGPW_OSHoGoKY3DWFY_ucQBTJZH6BiKL-ZzkT2EU6nBxtNP0M217e4-7RQj1reGKWs4n8A95h5-nKm4k5mbrEubqgtIoKsvNrUt9Sc7mo/s400/rebecca+uc.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><blockquote><span style="font-size: small;"> # 4 joining our family, being welcomed gently at home with just Mum & Dad ♥</span></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Meg Fraser- HBA2C and a previous stillbirth.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9iJjsFESk_nil8KzesqQ1Jjgghj9tBlZFLjmtEbeq0NWm8WV5gvzeOEI2ze83hBWI8HWublC3NQYiXZ5mV_KqmQ5PqnA1naXjfawm0FK7lmQ0pH94OoB2v13pm72CmnoFq-Q02PaZNQ/s1600/Meg+Fraser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9iJjsFESk_nil8KzesqQ1Jjgghj9tBlZFLjmtEbeq0NWm8WV5gvzeOEI2ze83hBWI8HWublC3NQYiXZ5mV_KqmQ5PqnA1naXjfawm0FK7lmQ0pH94OoB2v13pm72CmnoFq-Q02PaZNQ/s400/Meg+Fraser.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Angus being waterborn at home<b> </b></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfc0pcbBiaEDdF5RjQ9LqMjM_rSfyYfYN4IDbmlfOHHsqWCyqyls9TDXFprEdKCLre_LbzwqOUoqBDAxANMU76I14srAj_DUGWo-Ww5xnqRp1F6ZgO0BkVD1zldj0aGtVkXhfz3GNp18/s1600/meg+fraser1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfc0pcbBiaEDdF5RjQ9LqMjM_rSfyYfYN4IDbmlfOHHsqWCyqyls9TDXFprEdKCLre_LbzwqOUoqBDAxANMU76I14srAj_DUGWo-Ww5xnqRp1F6ZgO0BkVD1zldj0aGtVkXhfz3GNp18/s400/meg+fraser1.jpg" width="400" /></a>Happy mama greets her beautiful son ♥</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b></div><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;">We have a secret in our culture, and it's not that birth is painful. It's that women are strong. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><span style="color: #622d68;"><i>Laura Stavoe Harm </i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></blockquote><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If you'd like to have your photos included in next week's blog (or any week) feel free to email me at motheringearth@peacemail.com with your photos, videos and descriptions. </span></span></b> <br />
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<div></div><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"></span>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-43083208167740278082010-07-18T15:05:00.000+10:002010-07-18T15:05:41.267+10:00Guest Post- The HBAC of Ky (by Bec Gorman)<b>My Pregnancy Journey and HBAC of Ky- guest blog by Bec Gorman</b><br />
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This story begins with the birth of our first baby, Madison in September 2008. Our beautiful baby girl entered the world via ‘emergency’ caesarean after I was induced at 39 weeks for a mild case of pregnancy induced hypertension. Not knowing any better and being very impatient at the time, we happily agreed with the induction. It resulted in a very intense long 21 hour labour and a cascade of intervention (continuous monitoring laying on the bed, two pethidine injections, three epidurals, artificial rupture of membranes, syntocinon and three failed vacuum delivery attempts). After all of this, being stuck flat on my back feeling paralysed any wonder I couldn’t birth my baby girl! My blood pressure and Madison’s heart rate remained stable throughout the labour but she was ‘stuck’ in a right occiput posterior position. Off to theatre we rushed. After such an ordeal Madison’s first cry was music to our ears and we were delighted to finally meet her. She weighed 7lb11oz.<br />
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We planned to have our children from 18 months apart. When Madison was 10 months old we were thrilled to discover a second little darling was on their way. We now lived in a different city. Very early in the pregnancy we booked in with a private obstetrician and hospital because that’s the path we were familiar with from our first pregnancy. It wasn’t until I fell pregnant again that I really started to reflect on my birth experience with Madison – not something I wanted to endure again. I felt I had missed out on the real experience of birth, that the drugs and intervention had robbed me of a necessary experience of being a woman and mother. I became very determined to make this journey different and have a vaginal birth after caesarean (VBAC) but little did I know about the challenges I’d be up against in the private system. I started thinking about all my options to help me achieve a VBAC. Finding a doula was my first step. We will be forever grateful for the wonderful invaluable support, encouragement and friendship that our doula, Kylie gave us from day one.<br />
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At our first appointment with the obstetrician we stated our desire of a VBAC upfront. He seemed quite supportive and told us he had an 80% VBAC success rate. I was a little disbelieving and sure enough the hospital statistics told a much different story of ~11%. Kylie encouraged me to nut out his rules and regulations of a VBAC at my next appointment. So I did and asked him to lay it all out on the table so to speak. This time he told me that HE would decide at 37 weeks what type of birth I could have but it would most likely be a caesarean on Thursday 15th April (10 days before my EDD) and checked his calendar there and then! If he did let me have a ‘trial of labour’ I would be subject to all the ridiculous rules that go with it. As if I was going to wait out the next 20+ weeks for HIS verdict on how I could birth our baby and at his convenience! I left his office knowing I would never return.<br />
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I was no longer interested in obstetric care and wasn’t eligible (because I wanted a VBAC) for one to one midwifery care at the public hospital. I began to do loads of research and read everything I could get my hands on, particularly by authors such as Michel Odent, Ina May Gaskin, Janet Balaskas and Sheila Kitzinger. The things they had to say about birth resonated with me. We started to learn more about private midwifery care and home birth and realised that by taking charge of where and how I birthed, I would be able to increase the likelihood of a good and gentle outcome for both myself and our baby. So home birth was it!<br />
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Around the beginning of my third trimester we found the most fantastic private midwife. From the moment we met Rachele we knew she would be a perfect fit for our pregnancy journey and dream birth. She is incredibly compassionate, supportive, knowledgeable and trusting and respectful of the natural birthing process. Every time Rachele met with us we felt completely relaxed and supported in our decisions. We were very grateful for not only gaining a wonderful midwife but also another great friend.<br />
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I had one booking appointment at the public hospital (in case of transfer) at which the obstetrician had no hesitation in telling me I was making a very foolish decision to have a home birth after caesarean (HBAC) and it would be very irresponsible of me as a mother. He also told me my pelvis was probably too small since I was unable to birth an average size baby the first time. I challenged him to discuss the risks associated with multiple caesareans and the benefits of VBAC but he didn’t want to acknowledge any. I felt a little rattled after this appointment but in the end it actually gave me more determination to achieve my birth the way I wanted it and not be dictated to over a minuscule risk of uterine rupture.<br />
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My pregnancy was perfect, next to no morning sickness, no reflux, no aches and pains, no fatigue, no blood pressure issues and I never got impatient with it. I attribute this to being more physically active (regular daily walking of 2-3km, yoga and aqua aerobics), consuming a high protein and calcium diet, natal hypnotherapy, networking with other home birth mums who especially achieved a HBAC, maintaining a relaxed and positive mind and becoming much more informed and educated about active birth and birth being a natural normal physiological event – a big thanks goes to Peter Jackson and his Calmbirth class for contributing to this. Peter filled us with confidence and empowered me to trust my body and let birth unfold in the natural manner that my body was designed to do.<br />
Throughout my pregnancy I became more and more comfortable with the idea of birth. I felt very prepared and wasn’t afraid. The perfect birth was to follow. From 38 weeks I started experiencing pre-labour symptoms – intermittent mild period-type pain, loose bowel motions and stronger braxton hicks (BH) tightenings. Each day and night we would talk to our baby and let him know how much we already loved him and that we couldn’t wait to meet him whenever he was ready. I would also tell him about the beautiful calm home birth we had prepared for him.<br />
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At around 8:30pm on the evening of my estimated due date, 25th April ’10, the strong BH tightenings returned. At first I didn’t think too much of it and just thought it might be another night like I’d had three of in the previous 10 days. I would get evenings of fairly regular BH that would ramp up before fizzling in the early hours of the morning. John and I stayed up watching TV for a couple of hours before I went to bed and listened to my Calmbirth CDs, relaxed and practising my breathing. The tightenings were coming irregularly, anything from about seven to 20 minutes apart. I dozed in and out of sleep for a couple of hours and woke at 1am for the usual bathroom visit. I couldn’t get back to sleep as it was a bit uncomfortable lying on my hips plus I was excited with anticipation that this might actually turn into labour. I paced around the house a little and sat on my fit ball surfing the net. But by 3am the tightenings were starting to fizzle and I was feeling sleepy so back to bed I went expecting to wake up later in the morning with things unchanged. I fell asleep straight away. At 3:44am I woke with a tightening that made me jump out of bed in a flash! This one felt much different in intensity and length. I had to run to the ensuite (bowels were in motion) and when I went to the toilet I noticed I was starting to lose my mucus plug. Woohoo! I thought...this is for real! I had to spend the next hour in the bathroom. At 5am the tightenings ramped up and were now coming regularly approximately 3-4 minutes apart and lasting around 60 seconds. I considered this the beginning of active labour. I woke John half an hour later telling him “Happy wedding anniversary babe, I think we are going to meet our little boy today!” After he realised what I said he jumped out of bed asking what he could do to help. He went about setting up my music, aromatherapy, lighting our birth candles and laying towels around the birth pool. At 6am I asked John to call Rachele, Kylie and my parents, who were to look after Madison. I found I had to concentrate through each tightening and focus on my breathing and it was most comfortable to kneel in a squat position on the floor and lean over pillows stacked on the side of our bed. In the breaks I would get up, chat and walk around to remain active.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XdkCUjmrBzcnXPaFtXyWNV0DzKRIv6emVregd7Z6Akv3E6OBmaoOGny0-_XsKN0dzGVwXXGSVaes9Usx4mXOxr3dJajIs-ohanSQTjxY6me66wH0XPCwiEZfRSEuBg9AOZmzXgB95qo/s1600/DSC01200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XdkCUjmrBzcnXPaFtXyWNV0DzKRIv6emVregd7Z6Akv3E6OBmaoOGny0-_XsKN0dzGVwXXGSVaes9Usx4mXOxr3dJajIs-ohanSQTjxY6me66wH0XPCwiEZfRSEuBg9AOZmzXgB95qo/s320/DSC01200.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrc65ewBBPhnnOoYNE5yiRLrlByOG74DEvu_jwiTl6h9WlTfwRi3mkoDXBuiYbp3w_YJPs7UA2j8aXVNC9q_pZvTMmFVwJSWXqA5INuhu1Fl5BBAOmQ3IiRbMWs30iDaJvP3MgiZiMIs/s1600/DSC01201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrc65ewBBPhnnOoYNE5yiRLrlByOG74DEvu_jwiTl6h9WlTfwRi3mkoDXBuiYbp3w_YJPs7UA2j8aXVNC9q_pZvTMmFVwJSWXqA5INuhu1Fl5BBAOmQ3IiRbMWs30iDaJvP3MgiZiMIs/s320/DSC01201.jpg" /></a></div>Everyone had arrived by 7am and entered quietly into our calm, peaceful birthing environment. I hugged and kissed Madison goodbye for the day. Rachele monitored our baby’s heart rate by doppler and my pulse approximately every half an hour during this first stage of labour. They both remained stable throughout the entire labour. I was feeling hungry so attempted to eat some fruit but found it tasted sickly sweet and I soon vomited it back up. Sucking on ice chips and sips of water were much more palatable. I started to add a swaying hip movement to my upright semi-squat position and continued to breathe through each tightening with my birth team massaging and applying heat packs to my lower back and reminding me to slow and deepen my breathing when necessary.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGisu52Qf-uik_FmNi6Zs05qnK33_lczJJY4kVqc-k8OoijjMunIrsIgBozaxUI1u-OZFKrPw6lX4W0H9VA4oni3fmwG4-eu6sUoON4ZD0BRI6uPJiflTZ1S3t2ShxT2kzy90r3_Rhvw/s1600/DSC01206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGisu52Qf-uik_FmNi6Zs05qnK33_lczJJY4kVqc-k8OoijjMunIrsIgBozaxUI1u-OZFKrPw6lX4W0H9VA4oni3fmwG4-eu6sUoON4ZD0BRI6uPJiflTZ1S3t2ShxT2kzy90r3_Rhvw/s320/DSC01206.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Around 9am the birth pool was nearly full and I was starting to feel pressure in my bottom so I hopped in the warm water, submerged my body, stretched out and felt blissful! I even got a few power naps in. My mucus plug continued to come away in bits and pieces and the tightenings were still 3-4 minutes apart. At about 10:30am I was grunting at the peak of each tightening and feeling like I needed to push. I actually had not been watching the clock so had no idea of the time throughout labour and to me it had seemed to go so quickly. I was a bit concerned that maybe it wasn’t really time to push and I should hold off in case I wasn’t fully dilated plus my waters hadn’t broken yet...shouldn’t they have broken by now?, I thought. So I asked my team how far they thought I was (I didn’t want any internal examinations done). I got the reply “Further than you were at 5am! You’re doing great just trust your body and go with it”. I could tell by the smile on their faces and the twinkle in their eyes that my feeling to push was right. Everyone continued to participate in comforting me with massage, hot packs, pouring water over my head and back, aromatherapy and encouragement.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEbK_0mY66SAQ3OOvnRFPgJkKH3oSJeNNtrpyyPKrnG9TE2KF_de1ybynwCjIFmrX8uENgBAam5TG24hCKfKcfkx_SeC-Ggztah7rVCgQQTXM_NmwDEv10siPic_T9xLhdgX0sfMw8kVc/s1600/DSC01221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEbK_0mY66SAQ3OOvnRFPgJkKH3oSJeNNtrpyyPKrnG9TE2KF_de1ybynwCjIFmrX8uENgBAam5TG24hCKfKcfkx_SeC-Ggztah7rVCgQQTXM_NmwDEv10siPic_T9xLhdgX0sfMw8kVc/s320/DSC01221.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Over the next half an hour I started to push with each tightening. A few minutes later Rachele announced she could see something, maybe his head! Turns out it was actually the intact bag of forewaters. It was a very bizarre feeling birthing this ‘water balloon’ and having it dangle between my legs! Rachele was now monitoring baby’s heart rate every 4 minutes in between tightenings. After about 45 minutes of pushing I felt like I was getting nowhere and began to get panicky that maybe I couldn’t do this, maybe I wasn’t built to birth naturally (even though deep down I knew this wasn’t true). I began to doubt my ability but at no point did I ever want medical pain relief. Sure the sensations of these very strong tightenings were uncomfortable at their peak but nothing I felt I couldn’t cope with between the preparation I had done and the support around me. (To be honest the discomfort of my haemorrhoids was worse than the tightenings!). Everyone quickly brought me back in line with words of encouragement and positive affirmations so that I could focus on my breathing and visualisations again. The voice of my wonderful yoga teacher, Deb also popped into my head telling me that I could do it!<br />
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By this stage I was feeling rather wrinkly from being in the pool for a while and was starting to get cramps in my feet. Rachele and Kylie suggested I get out of the pool and use the assistance of gravity and try some new positions. I alternated between sitting on the toilet and standing leaning against John. Rachele suggested I feel for my baby’s head myself, so I did and to my surprise I felt him about 2cm away from crowning. ‘Wow’ I thought, he really is there! This excited me and spurred me on even more. With each push I could feel him move down slightly but then slip back up. I still had the intact bag of waters dangling between my legs, which was starting to annoy me and waiver my concentration from the task at hand. Rachele said I could break it off if it was bothering me. As amazing as I thought it would be to birth our baby in an intact membrane sac, I broke the bag off at 12:30pm and then his head came into view as I pushed. I got the hang of breathing him down and holding him there more so than trying to push really hard and then have him slip back up at the end of each tightening. This method felt much more effective. We were so close now! I needed a new position so John sat on the edge of the bed and I leant on his shoulder facing him in a standing squat position. Those weekly yoga squats and postures during pregnancy certainly paid off, thanks Deb!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3NvTkDMLw9ZDkTN7BJOshUwZthS0NvH_m-FnDzvNAJOPEDTsJ6Um53k6mvB33K7kVb2klduiKp82OpjL_IozX4loQvH_CSr0u49KLMIFYR2DOca2geGFI6Sfr8BYhN1_yRjvH5v16BI/s1600/DSC01251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3NvTkDMLw9ZDkTN7BJOshUwZthS0NvH_m-FnDzvNAJOPEDTsJ6Um53k6mvB33K7kVb2klduiKp82OpjL_IozX4loQvH_CSr0u49KLMIFYR2DOca2geGFI6Sfr8BYhN1_yRjvH5v16BI/s320/DSC01251.jpg" /></a>Just after 1pm I could feel his head starting to crown. That ‘burning ring of fire’ really wasn’t that bad. Kylie placed a mirror on the floor below me so I could watch this amazing birth moment unfold. With the next tightening I birthed his head and nuchal hand (any wonder my stage two took a while!). I reached down and felt his warm wet head and was totally amazed. My only word was “Wowsers!” which I kept repeating. The next tightening came quickly and with one push I birthed the rest of his body which whooshed out followed by a massive gush of waters and membranes. It sounded like a water pipe bursting! Rachele took a classic catch (at 1:13pm after 8 hours of active labour) and immediately passed our beautiful baby boy, Ky Ambrose, up to me on the bed.<br />
The room was filled with exclamations of cheer, joy, love, tears and one very loud newborn cry. It was all a little surreal for me at first and took a few moments to sink in that I actually did it...I birthed my 10lb baby at home after caesarean! I was quickly overjoyed with emotions that our dream had come true and overwhelmed with feelings of love, happiness and accomplishment. I will always cherish those first cuddles and immediate skin to skin contact. Ky breast crawled and fed perfectly within 30 minutes. I had looked forward to these moments for so long as I was unable to experience this with Madison.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSi4Gan8gO67GBsBVLXvFqZ5v3FR9F8uTLCPE6dGApKb5XTBygo6SsP8K2j6Wp6HTj-5DxSyvCzxglIMbfmVU1rOE81Mqft0EzbzHld4gQKTIPBFHBsh3nAtKlitLamd-ZWy5JYTRA7rk/s1600/DSC01252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSi4Gan8gO67GBsBVLXvFqZ5v3FR9F8uTLCPE6dGApKb5XTBygo6SsP8K2j6Wp6HTj-5DxSyvCzxglIMbfmVU1rOE81Mqft0EzbzHld4gQKTIPBFHBsh3nAtKlitLamd-ZWy5JYTRA7rk/s320/DSC01252.jpg" /></a></div><br />
We did not clamp his cord until after it stopped pulsating and then John had the privilege of cutting it. I had a normal physiological 3rd stage and birthed Ky’s placenta after about 45 minutes. Ky’s APGARS were 9 and 9, weight 10lb, length 53cm and HC 37cm. We snuggled in the comfort of our own bed for the rest of the afternoon. Madison excitedly returned home to meet her new little brother and we were an elated family of four.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_pyh2jC1qXjwJ83TBJP6GTMVVuYCjN37PDs3tLYkTde7bGUReZTlSN8KQnDCOkvsGOxnBxdT1-77tKFkBkUN2f_ApPJih_ajRr_0WSEp_ImpDTisGiOEx3TG1UVSHRtiNTY9vixjGUd0/s1600/DSC01258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_pyh2jC1qXjwJ83TBJP6GTMVVuYCjN37PDs3tLYkTde7bGUReZTlSN8KQnDCOkvsGOxnBxdT1-77tKFkBkUN2f_ApPJih_ajRr_0WSEp_ImpDTisGiOEx3TG1UVSHRtiNTY9vixjGUd0/s320/DSC01258.jpg" /></a></div>In a way I am grateful for the birth experience I had with Madison as this allowed me to learn about the best things I could do to work with Ky to bring him earth side in the finest possible way. Ky’s birth was the most empowering moment of my life. This journey has changed me profoundly and I now wouldn’t give birth any other way.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju3aFVme3JZT8BJqQSN_ipd3sgiIQwqumotwgmmf_VsnzNZnObiU7j5SrGiRnYrv-Ui1Ikbk5sPhj0yFrUfg-VNprlnJ0xn54JtxFC5XenESyQTicLvx3_0nkls_pZr5bATD6zG9JxMXk/s1600/DSC01273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju3aFVme3JZT8BJqQSN_ipd3sgiIQwqumotwgmmf_VsnzNZnObiU7j5SrGiRnYrv-Ui1Ikbk5sPhj0yFrUfg-VNprlnJ0xn54JtxFC5XenESyQTicLvx3_0nkls_pZr5bATD6zG9JxMXk/s320/DSC01273.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7UiU3oqMw54PYxxTWsvelJOq94i19MKbhy5wLC0KN_7Y0_2_9qeDR9914_xeeWoIqF10be6kbIGrHaxxJP7iD5imGLRCtkt07hJUQLFC_7QxbWJebdjj6vFRKTwTu4_a4TPxV2CKv-E/s1600/DSC01280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7UiU3oqMw54PYxxTWsvelJOq94i19MKbhy5wLC0KN_7Y0_2_9qeDR9914_xeeWoIqF10be6kbIGrHaxxJP7iD5imGLRCtkt07hJUQLFC_7QxbWJebdjj6vFRKTwTu4_a4TPxV2CKv-E/s320/DSC01280.jpg" /></a></div>My advice to any woman wanting a VBAC and/or a natural birth is to do your homework, trust your instincts, surround yourself with positive support, plan a joyous birth and be in control of your journey. Doing this allowed me to achieve the outcome I got. I don’t consider myself brave or crazy (as I have been told by many) for having a wonderful natural birth at home after caesarean, just simply educated. A woman’s body is designed perfectly for giving birth. I wish for more women to trust their bodies and believe in themselves and not be so scared of giving birth. I hope this story inspires women to do so.Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-71522427324216084532010-07-16T20:04:00.000+10:002010-07-16T20:04:21.731+10:00Spending the day next to a victim of circumcisionYesterday we spent the day at hospital as my son had to have a suspicious lump removed from his shin. We're awaiting the results and he's a tough little person who is coping well- he barely seems to notice the fact that he even had surgery. He is almost 4 years old and is way too active to let something like 15 stitches slow him down!<br />
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We arrived at the hospital at 7am. Just waiting for his surgery was traumatic enough to have to deal with, but our day got worse when I casually asked the parents in the bed next to us what their son was here for.<br />
Dad: "Oh, it's a circumcision thing."<br />
Myself: "Pardon?"<br />
Dad: "He's having surgery on his circumcision."<br />
Myself: "Sorry? He's being circumcised?"<br />
Dad: "Oh, no, they are fixing the first one."<br />
Myself: "Done recently?"<br />
Dad: "No, he had it done as a newborn."<br />
Myself: "Oh, that's horrific...."<br />
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I had to grit my teeth and turn my head and try not to say something which would only inflame what was already a bad situation with a room full of starving children who weren't even allowed water as they were all awaiting surgery.<br />
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Not only had this poor little boy already been mutilated, but they had mutilated him so that he needed surgery to correct the first mutilation. Two unnecessary surgeries and the poor little boy was 18 months old. <br />
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Although I was anxious about my own son's necessary surgery, I found it hard not to think about the poor little boy in the bed next to us. How did he feel when he was first done? How much pain had he been in since then because of the first unnecessary surgery? How much pain would he be in after this one?<br />
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The thought of them cutting into my son's flesh made me feel so awful, but the thought of insisting it is done to your newborn son's genitals makes me feel absolutely revolted.<br />
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He was the child to go in before my son, and as I watched them carry him into surgery I couldn't help but be angry. I would have done anything to not be in a hospital with my son, and the thought of this little boy being there because his parents chose to remove healthy tissue from his genitals when he was days old made me feel quite ill. <br />
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While their son was in recovery, my son was wheeled into theatre and I held his hand and stroked him while they anaesthetized him. I went back into the ward and waited for my son's surgery to be finished. <br />
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Both of the little boy's parents were waiting there as I waited for my son's surgery to be over. We exchanged polite smiles and leafed through newspapers. I watched the clock and hoped my son's surgery would be over soon. They came to tell me my son was in recovery but wouldn't be awake for a while as he was drowsy from morphine (which I never imagined they would give to a child, actually!). I jiggled my feet and waited for when my son was awake enough so I could go and be with him. <br />
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Then they wheeled the little boy in. He was screaming and sobbing, clawing his way out of the metal crib to cling to his parents. They held him and rocked him and he screamed. They sang him songs and walked him around and he screamed. Nurses came in and pulled the curtain around the bed, talking to the parents and checking his nappy for blood. The little boy continued to scream. They gave him morphine and he went from screaming to sobbing, curled into a little ball as his parents rocked him, shushed him, patted him, rubbed him. For half an hour I sat next to the curtain pulled around his crib and I had to try not to cry for this poor little boy. His heart started to beat too fast and more morphine was administered. They laid him on the crib and he whimpered in his sleep, his body curled into the foetal position. <br />
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My son was rousing so I went to recovery and sat with him for 20 minutes while he drifted in and out of consciousness. The mass in his shin wasn't what they expected and they had to remove much more than they thought. I thought he'd have 6 stitches, he has around 15. When he was ready to be moved back to the ward as we got back I could hear the little boy still whimpering, his mother out in the hall having some space while his father tried to soothe him. <br />
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We had to wait 3 more hours before we could take our son home. The entire time we were there post-surgery, the little boy next to us whimpered and cried in his sleep, his heart rate checked constantly. He would rouse and flail about, crying and raggedly choking on his own sobs. He pulled out the canula in his arm, spilling blood on the floor between our beds. I felt incredibly sick and incredibly sorry for this small person who had to be there because of a mistake.<br />
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When we left, they were still there, waiting for their son to be well enough to take home. Children who had been operated after my son was being discharged and this tiny little boy was still whimpering in his sleep, full of painkillers to numb a pain he never had to experience.<br />
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I've been an intactivist for years. When I discovered my son's sex I researched circumcision and realised just how barbaric it is. What I saw yesterday horrified me, and I was watching a toddler experience it. I can't imagine how awful it must be to see a newborn after male genital mutilation. This small boy was given a pre-operative sedative, general anaesthetic, morphine, codeine, paracetamol and more morphine- and he still whimpered in his sleep. I fail to see how anyone could say that a baby barely notices being circumcised- and with no anaesthetic and paracetamol for pain relief.<br />
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I'd give anything to keep my son away from a surgeon and away from pain.<br />
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I can't begin to grasp why anyone would willingly hand their perfectly whole, well child to a surgeon- and ask them to cut off healthy tissue for aesthetic or religious purposes.Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-29547082011570237272010-06-30T23:35:00.001+10:002012-12-08T19:41:18.925+11:00The HBAC waterbirth of Archer- guest post<div class="" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 14pt;">The HBAC waterbirth of Archer- guest post, Anonymous<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">My son was born into a birthing pool in the middle of the afternoon at the end of March. It was mostly silent; I could hear the sounds of the school kids walking past, the sound of my dogs barking at them as usual. Life was going on around us outside and here I was, about to give birth normally for the first time. My first birth was an emergency caesarean, I hadn’t experienced a normal vaginal birth before. I never wanted to feel a baby taken out of my stomach ever again and now here I was, a total opposite experience for my second birth. No hospitals, no doctors, no interventions, no hospital rules, no limitations. Just myself, my partner, my doula and the midwives.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNgdLNdJCpmSzwkN7Zxup4CzbWryM7R1zCP-w1zO-XurFuaYf8x07qsWBawZtEP8QPVhNyBpHFaEH6DBhKHc0NW7igt17ytHDD6oH0fIkJV4YYWNE4IXqk9MxF_uo4kUlNXZk3W0ip6tk/s1600/IMG_0373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNgdLNdJCpmSzwkN7Zxup4CzbWryM7R1zCP-w1zO-XurFuaYf8x07qsWBawZtEP8QPVhNyBpHFaEH6DBhKHc0NW7igt17ytHDD6oH0fIkJV4YYWNE4IXqk9MxF_uo4kUlNXZk3W0ip6tk/s400/IMG_0373.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">My daughter's first moments after she was born via cesarean. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Here is the story of my labour and birth…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">10.30am, after an unusually decent night sleep (you know how it is when you are in those final days!) I grabbed some breakfast and sat down on the couch and jumped online. I had a funny feeling like a cramp and I went to the toilet. I sent my partner Scott a text message telling him to stay close to the phone, I think something might happen today. After a few minutes I needed to go to the toilet again and I had a bloody show. I rang Scott and told him to come home. I have a contraction. Ouch ouch OUCH. I ring my Midwife Emma to let her know that something’s happening. The pain is so bad I drop the phone mid-conversation. I have this incredible urge to push. Emma tells me she is still on the other end of town but is on her way. I was scared she wouldn’t make it in time! I ring my doula Jodee and tell her what’s happening. I describe my contractions to her and she tells me she will get to me within 30 minutes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">11am-11:45am - While I am waiting for everyone to come to my house, I labour away up in my bedroom. I don’t feel like there is much time between each contraction. Every one that surges through me is hard, intense, with the incredible urge to push. I am worried that I am pushing too early so I squat with my head on the floor and bottom in the air. I call Scott again and almost yell- you have to come home right now!<br />
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11:50am - Scott gets home, quickly comes into our room to check on me and says he is just going to start filling up the pool.<br />
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12pm - Jodee arrives. She puts soothing oils in the oil burner as soon as she arrives. She calms me down and starts helping me cope better with the pain. I feel more focused. I try to breathe through each contraction as they intensify. After 30 mins Jodee suggests I try the shower, so we move to the bathroom and I spend some time in there with the hot water on my back, leaning into Scott during each contraction.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8gQ7T8H9NBHicJwgTHoGZc081ZcQDsSpq1r4th9t7yqk2FuYAsSNmvtBsyP2eQ86TEIheA4M2bov8WQ-Mw-Rsq6vCid8NmlwlneGX4YYgeZ5j9wOVE2KqDvJuRoa60lAVanfhvyfyuM/s1600/IMG_6088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8gQ7T8H9NBHicJwgTHoGZc081ZcQDsSpq1r4th9t7yqk2FuYAsSNmvtBsyP2eQ86TEIheA4M2bov8WQ-Mw-Rsq6vCid8NmlwlneGX4YYgeZ5j9wOVE2KqDvJuRoa60lAVanfhvyfyuM/s400/IMG_6088.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">12:38pm – Emma (Midwife) arrives and starts setting up. Someone suggests that I move back into the bedroom as we need use the hot water to fill up the rest of the pool (the joys of low water pressure). While the shower was helping, the urge to get into the birth pool is greater so we go back to the bedroom and I kneel over the bed for the next hour. Every 10 minutes or so Emma checks fetal heart rate with the Doppler- perfectly normal. <br />
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1340 - After labouring away in my bedroom (and after a mishap where the hose filling the pool flies out and sprays water all over our TV) the pool is announced full! I make my way down there and climb in and it feels wonderful. I decide it’s most comfortable to keep kneeling and to lean over the side of the pool, holding onto Scott or Jodee’s hands. Each contraction seems to be getting more intense and longer. I am getting longer breaks between them where I am able to breathe slowly and recoup. I find the flickering lights of the electrical equipment around the TV as something I can focus on. I ask out loud if this is real labour (I get a few laughs..) The labour seems to be settling down into a groove. I wonder what’s going on. Everyone is telling me I am doing really well. I requested no internals so I had no idea what my body is doing. I had been trying not to push, I asked if I could push now, I get told I can go with it. Looking back through my labour notes I find that I was having a contraction once every 2 to 3 minutes lasting 60 seconds long. It sure felt intense!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWOUHSb1paWZPfGeGWSNBxoxi1iu5moGy0dDAg7ImUXhbBxrSrnQbQLSkNPBd7OZ3CFD_DSsYLer4BPc_VPPHerelugfllTJDcBt0KJbXJt2m7SMMOCXA0V-2qs4-sLmKjHGsxMnccSk/s1600/IMG_6090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWOUHSb1paWZPfGeGWSNBxoxi1iu5moGy0dDAg7ImUXhbBxrSrnQbQLSkNPBd7OZ3CFD_DSsYLer4BPc_VPPHerelugfllTJDcBt0KJbXJt2m7SMMOCXA0V-2qs4-sLmKjHGsxMnccSk/s400/IMG_6090.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSLvCFe8SA46k2i8dThyEU0fmXwuk9kbo9cKGnJFjCZCjAshlaErsWmz6J_M3nJaXaQbBrnpRfJIsXxgi-fCTpYP_jN7BDbUs38rDGYo-9N9xRP2ufOcWDtiGtMD-0gNlrOd1Lw9px9o/s1600/IMG_6092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSLvCFe8SA46k2i8dThyEU0fmXwuk9kbo9cKGnJFjCZCjAshlaErsWmz6J_M3nJaXaQbBrnpRfJIsXxgi-fCTpYP_jN7BDbUs38rDGYo-9N9xRP2ufOcWDtiGtMD-0gNlrOd1Lw9px9o/s400/IMG_6092.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">Top, I am breathing through a contraction. Below, a rest in between</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">14:30pm - I start to feel a little bit of stinging at the end of each contraction. WOW I thought calmly to myself...My baby is going to be arriving soon! So this is where I get back to the start of this story. I remember thinking my hair was all over the place. That I was glad it wasn’t too hot as my air conditioner doesn’t work that well when it’s hot and humid. I even wanted my dogs to stop barking. I never once thought about that scar on my uterus! <br />
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14:56pm - I keep getting longer feelings of stinging. Then I feel a pop and a stretching sensation and his head is out. Wow I remember feeling, that means the rest of him will follow! I can feel his head begin to rotate. It is the most awful feeling. Not painful, but it felt like someone was behind me pulling him around, and I ask if someone was pushing down on him, but no, the midwives tell me, that’s him turning all by himself. I am too scared to move and holding on I wait for the next contraction.</span><br />
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjmz8wvt8a5beyHkHh00ORMHn_9ldIE_YJA7cqbLFzozKtx6g9e_rp5DtNXa7kP5-0cRthfuTtuwPcNK5Bg1HX7qtyb3KiPUHKv3gj3gC0AtCvW2v2PaIOtpo0kNvsqvfLYAVBTxMW7w/s320/Katie.jpg" width="228" /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWk_ChBxDBC8ojcaHHBLHYoBqIgiJlXWW0he9IujOHv3OHP-H7G9bVquVwHjIRCxiYNYluL4UPeDH4kqcnSOFBGIDbpPxOmeNi2GE5o4B8ukPWBUwYk8cB4vE7-MgB-p8Aw5sxhA-LXM/s1600/IMG_6100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWk_ChBxDBC8ojcaHHBLHYoBqIgiJlXWW0he9IujOHv3OHP-H7G9bVquVwHjIRCxiYNYluL4UPeDH4kqcnSOFBGIDbpPxOmeNi2GE5o4B8ukPWBUwYk8cB4vE7-MgB-p8Aw5sxhA-LXM/s320/IMG_6100.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Archer, head out- who is already looking at the world!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;"> 15:03pm - I feel one last push and whoosh he slides out. Emma is behind me and tells me to get my hands down and she pushes him under my legs. I reach down and pull him up and out of the water. Oh my gosh, I stare down into his eyes, he stares up into my face and we gaze at each other. He is covered lightly in vernix, the rest floats around in the pool. He looks a little grey straight away but slowly starts changing colour. I think, yep, just birthed my baby, as you do. I thought straight away that yes, it hurt, but it felt...easy and normal. I sit down finally after 4.5 hours and hold him to my chest. I start to process what I have just done. I chat away with the Emma, Jodee and Scott while we wait for the umbilical cord to stop pulsating and the placenta to come away. I offer the breast to Archer but he’s not really interested! <br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">16:00pm - I am experiencing mild cramps but no contractions. The backup midwife has a quick check and tells me the next time I have a contraction to push through it like I did during labour. When it finally happens I push, and then- whoosh- the placenta comes out intact. By now the cord has stopped pulsating so we clamp the cord and I ask Scott to cut it, which he does. </span><br />
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--><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">The water is getting cold so I hand over Archer to Scott for his first cuddles while I head to the shower. Best shower ever. I remember standing in there thinking, I have just birthed a baby and I am walking around having a shower! I felt pretty invincible right then. I go back to the lounge and get checked for tearing. We find a 2nd degree labial tear as Archer came out with his hand over his face. I didn’t care though, I had an amazing empowering birth experience. <br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">I am cradling my baby on my chest and I start to call my family. I had already decided that I wasn’t going to let anyone know until after the birth, so it was wonderful to be able to call them up and say “Hey mum, dad, I had my baby not long ago!” I move back up to the bedroom and get comfortable in bed. We weigh and measure Archer. 3.3kgs, born at 3:03pm and 54cms long. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">At 18:30 both Emma and Jodee have left. Scott’s parents bring our daughter back home to meet Archer. She sits on the bed next to us and reaches over to tickle his head and laughs. He fits seamlessly into our lives.</span></div>
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Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-33645360023530898062010-06-17T20:30:00.002+10:002010-06-17T22:14:37.573+10:00Living in a world where everything is toxic...Almost every day, it becomes evident our world is toxic. Our water is polluted and has chemicals added to it which harm our organs, bones and gastro-intestinal tract. Our air is filled with chemicals, pesticides, airborne bacteria, viruses, mould spores and more.<br />
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<blockquote><h1 style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">“It's no longer a question of staying healthy. It's a question of finding a sickness you like.”</span></h1><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_564783632"> </a>Jackie Mason</blockquote><br />
The plastic toys made for children are rich with phthalates, known to cause cancer. Many of the sippy cups made for babies are made with plastics which contain Bisphenol A (BPA), another carcinogen. Our mattresses, clothing, carpets, paint and furniture leech toxins into our homes. Even our MDF furniture is releasing formaldehyde into our homes. The little toilet block which smells lovely is horribly toxic and poisoning us every time we use the bathroom. The dishwashing powder is making us ill, the dishwashing liquid is suppressing our immune systems, the pest treatment from 6 months ago is leeching into our organs. Every time we have a shower we are breathing in chloride and fluoride from the steamy water. Our shampoo and conditioner are nothing but lovely smelling chemicals, our soap is the same. <br />
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The fruit and vegetables we buy are sprayed with carbendazim and endosulfan- both known to cause infertility, genetic abnormalities, illness and poisoning. The tinned foods available in supermarkets are in cans lined with BPA rich plastics. The plastics our food are packaged in are also often BPA plastic. The cardboard boxes are treated with chemicals to deter pests. Our meats are gassed so they look pinker, or even flushed with ammonia to kill lethal bacteria which are a result of antibiotic use in animals.<br />
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From the moment our babies are born, they are exposed to toxins everywhere. If your baby is born at a hospital, in the moments after birth they are exposed to huge amounts of toxins. The gloves on the doctor or midwife's hands are exuding phthalates. The blanket or towel used to rub them down has been chemically treated to remove all bacteria, bodily waste and stains. The stethoscope used to check their heartbeat has been doused with antibacterial chemicals to ensure no cross-contamination. The floor has been mopped with chemicals, the air coming through the cooling system has passed through chemical treatment plants to ensure there is no bacteria. The staff are leaving chemical trails everywhere they go from the detergents they use in their washing machines and the fabric softeners which are designed to make us feel more comfortable. The waterproof mattress is giving off phthalates as you hold your baby close to you, waiting for it to latch on and have its first suckle at your breast- where it will receive an amazing dose of antibodies and the best food available- except your breastmilk contains chemicals too!<br />
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More and more people are developing allergies, sensitivities, illnesses. More and more adults are getting repeatedly sick from simple common viruses and developing cancers. More and more children are diagnosed with learning difficulties, Autism Spectrum disorders, suppressed immune systems, the inability to fight off a cold.<br />
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Is it a huge leap to consider that perhaps chemicals are negatively impacting on our health so dramatically? The evidence against chemicals is stacking up, and the companies selling them aren't going to withdraw their products or suggest you buy something less toxic. Our governments aren't doing anything about it. Saving energy is a worth-while goal, but nobody has started to take steps to save lives.<br />
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So how do you combat it? What difference can you make in your own home, and your own community?<br />
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Here are some simple steps to help you change the amount of chemicals in your home:<br />
►Buy organic wherever possible. Some larger chains now sell organic items at prices similar to conventional items, but check they are certified by an organic certification body. Organic food not only means less pesticides going into the bodies in your home, it also reduces the chemicals used to produce your food. Look at farmer's markets and places with large amounts of organic produce so you aren't paying triple for organic items. <br />
►Water filters which remove fluoride and chlorine will help improve your thyroid function and give your body a chance to detox. Fluoride is highly toxic and replaces iodine in the body which has helped create the generation of iodine-deficient people we see now. If you think fluoride is good for your teeth, brush well with a fluoride toothpaste all you like, but spit it out and rinse well. (Looking into the difference between sodium fluoride and calcium fluoride might change your mind on how useful fluoride toothpaste is.) <br />
►buy environmentally friendly, greywater safe, biodegradable detergents for your dishes and clothing. Fabric softeners are highly toxic and release fumes which are carcinogenic. Lavender oil added to the rinse has the same nice smelling effect without the chemicals.<br />
►Don't use soap or body care products on your baby unless it's necessary. Choose organic products with natural ingredients where possible. Baby products are often filled with petrochemicals and phthalates.<br />
<blockquote>Body-care products containing phthalates are a source of exposure for infants. The authors of a 2008 study "observed that reported use of infant lotion, infant powder, and infant shampoo were associated with increased infant urine concentrations of [phthalate metabolites], and this association is strongest in younger infants. These findings suggest that dermal exposures may contribute significantly to phthalate body burden in this population."</blockquote>►choose Sodium Laureth Sulphate free shampoos and conditioners, and look at the ingredients on every soap or wash you buy. If it isn't derived from nature or has a lot of hydroxy-sounding huge names on it, don't buy it. Consider using sodium bicarb to wash your hair and rinse with Apple Cider vinegar<br />
►Save yourself money and use bicarbonate soda and vinegar to clean your home. Add some Lavender and Tea Tree oil on occasion if you like- they are anti-bacterial and anti-fungal and they smell nice too.<br />
►Don't use pesticides or insecticides in your home at all. Fly screens are more effective than fly spray, and those annoying flies that get in are easily dealt with using a rolled up newspaper, or two magazines slapped together.<br />
►Throw out your disinfectants and use tea tree oil instead. Disinfectants kill the tiny germs which we need to help build our immune systems up. <br />
►Air freshers are chemicals which mask odours, are toxic and have been proven to cause respiratory problems in children and adults. Essential oils are a much better option, mixed with water in a spritzer bottle.<br />
►Choose toys made from natural materials for your children where possible. Wooden toys are also wonderful heirloom pieces to pass on to future generations.<br />
►Look for BPA free plastics for cups, plates and bowls for children. Make sure your baby's cups and bottles aren't made from plastic containing Bisphenol A (#3,#6 and #7).<br />
►Check how old the toys in your home are and throw out old toys which are releasing phthalates.<br />
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Even just eliminating <i>some</i> chemicals from your home will not only help your family, but it will have a long-term effect on the environment and the waterways. The chemical run-off from your home will be minimised and by using less chemicals you are decreasing the amount of carbon used to manufacture these chemicals and transport it to point of sale.<br />
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I know many people with multiple chemical sensitivity. I can only see this becoming more prevalent as we add more chemicals to our world and to our homes. What we often fail to see is how huge an impact we can make on our immediate environment, and in the long-term, the world. Every time you use a natural product you are reducing the need for chemicals and reducing the toxicity in our world. Each and every time you leave the supermarket without buying chemicals, you are making a statement to them and helping shape future buying habits. The more organic, natural products we choose, the more supplies stores will ship in for purchase, and the more people who might see them on the shelves and reach for them instead of the chemical cousin.<br />
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Whenever we practice a process which benefits people, we normalise it. When your friends and family see you using organic products, it encourages them to choose differently too. You can make a huge impact- not only on your health, but on the health of your family, your friends, your community, the community where these products are manufactured, and the world in general.<br />
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<blockquote><h1 style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Does wisdom perhaps appear on the earth as a raven which is inspired by the smell of carrion?” </span><span style="font-size: small;">~Friedrich Nietzsche</span></h1></blockquote><span class="sqq"></span>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-83935291816975697942010-05-09T12:59:00.002+10:002010-05-09T13:25:38.854+10:00Mothering Yourself On Mother's Day ♥Today is mother's day, and I am honouring my role as a mother. My children are too small to understand the meaning of today, and thankfully too small to buy into the commercial hype about it as well!<br />
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Every Mother's Day I reflect on my own mother and on the way I was mothered. More than ever, since having children this brings up a lot of hurt and sadness.<br />
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As a mother, I am as attached as I can be. My children are at the forefront of my mind all of the time. I research deeply to ensure that the choices I make are based on not only my instinct, but also on what is shown- and known- to be best for my children so they grow into healthy adults. Despite being overwhelmed, frustrated, isolated or snowed under, I do my best to ensure my children know I am present for them every moment that I can be, and I try to enjoy the moments of calm which happen miraculously every once in a blue moon. My children were only cared by myself (and occasionally their father) for the first 3 years of their life- the exception being that my 3.5 year old son recently started kindergarten (and I have to explain that as someone who is planning to homeschool, this might seem at odds with my philosophy, however to support us I have to work a few days a week and one of those days I cannot bring him with me.). I co-sleep, extended breastfeed, babywear and attend to my children's needs instead of leaving them to cry. My children are still small, and they need me right now. Children need us more intensely for the their first 5 years of life than they will ever need us. <br />
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My mother is a stark contrast to myself, which is something I have thought long and hard about. Did I become an attachment parent in response to her detachment? Or am I a maternal person compared to her lack of emotion simply because we are different people? Is she a byproduct of a detached childhood herself, and if so- what is her excuse for not evolving, not resolving to make her children's lives happier than her own childhood?<br />
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I was raised by strangers in childcare centres, palmed off to babysitters, handed over at every possible moment. My mother didn't want to mother us so she hid behind the values of 'Feminism'- which has nothing to do with actual feminism but was a twisted perception to excuse her choices. (I am a feminist myself, so I now know how backward her apporach is!) We were in childcare because real feminists worked fulltime AND had a family. She had to go back to work because women need to show they are equal to men. Every excuse was used. But the truth boils down to this- my mother didn't want to be at home with us as babies. Nor as children. She didn't want to mother us. She found us boring and a waste of her time. Which might have just been a fact for her, but it was a rejection to me, and an invalidation of my needs.<br />
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As an adult, my relationship with my mother is strained and based on nothing more than family. I am not bonded to my mother, nor do I feel a deep attachment to her. I never have. I feel nostalgic and emotional when I smell her perfume- I think this is the closest I ever got to getting a scent imprint of my mother that I could attach to. We discuss my children and I am jealous because my mother is more affectionate, more loving, more caring when it comes to her grandchildren. I understand this, because she isn't as emotionally invested and she doesn't have to live with them full time. But it still hurts to see my children receive love from her and feel a hurt in a far-away place where a wound was created by the absence of her love.<br />
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So today, on Mother's Day, I do not ring my mother- instead, my father rings me to prompt me to ring her. She is hurt that nobody has called her. And usually I do. But today, I don't think I will ring my mother. Every time I ring her for mother's day, I allow her to ignore the hurt she caused by not mothering my sisters and I. Every time I ring her for mother's day, I am allowing her to continue pretending that I think that "You were/are a great mum." Yet she was not. Is not. I do not want to hurt her, but I don't want to hurt myself by ignoring my experiences.<br />
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My mother knows I am a single parent with two small children, yet she is hurt when her adult children don't honour her mother status. She didn't even consider that there was nobody honouring my motherhood, that she could take a step and ring me to wish me a happy mother's day. My father honours my mother for bringing his children into the world- he has since the day she gave birth to my older sister and he has continued to do so- <b>daily</b>- for the 30+ years which have passed since. Yet she needs us to validate this, on a day which is nothing but a commercial opportunity to sell cards and flowers and chocolates. I am supposed to validate someone for being a mother lacking in so many areas simply because Hallmark decided today was a good day for it?<br />
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Today, I am wishing myself mother's day. I made myself a beautiful breakfast and wrapped my hands around a warm cup of licorice tea. My children are with their father today as Sunday is the day he has them, and he has not wished me a happy mother's day, nor has he ever honoured my role as a mother. He was unaware it was mother's day so he did not plan to take the children on a different day. I wouldn't expect consiousness, though, so I am not disappointed!<br />
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So <b>I</b> am honouring my motherhood. I am remembering the beauty inherent in me as a mother. I am looking at photographs of my belly growing ripe with my son, giving respect to the journey that motherhood has taken me on, giving thanks to myself for doing everything within my power to be a wonderful mother. I had an awful role model and yet I have managed to develop into a loving, caring, passionate mother who isn't afraid to hold her children close to her heart.<br />
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I am going to watch a movie, read a book, eat some soup and enjoy my day. I am going to give thanks to my wobbly tummy for helping cradle two small people as they grew strong enough for this world. I am going to watch my birth dvd's and remember the moment when I first touched my children. I am going to pat my own back and sing my own praises, and I am going to continue to be the best mother I can.<br />
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Because sometimes, the best mother we can ever have is our self.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.designsbywillow.com/site/Images/InnerChild.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.designsbywillow.com/site/Images/InnerChild.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-1605491023803980342010-04-26T20:20:00.000+10:002010-04-26T20:20:54.054+10:00Guest Blog: Parenting without vaccines<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs475.ash1/26056_1216206060350_1684827831_417164_3831507_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs475.ash1/26056_1216206060350_1684827831_417164_3831507_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><b>By Sarah Sparkles- mama to a girlie aged 8, a boy aged 2 and one on the way.</b><br />
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Before becoming a parent I trained as a nurse and practised for some time, mainly in the mental health field; I loved my job but the politics were getting to me. It felt very strange administering drugs, then going home and using homeopathy! I have a disease called Perthes in my hip- this means essentially my hip is undeveloped and can cause me a great deal of pain- I've always been medicated in one way or another and I've always felt a resistance to it. When I was in my teens I started to look at other ways of managing health and I was convinced there just HAD to be another way to get through my life without codeine rotting my organs! I found a holistic practioner who was happy to realign my spine and pelvis (as I walk with a very slight limp which gets pronounced when I'm tired). My parents were convinced I was bonkers for a while; they let me try alternative therapies but were soon tired when I wasn't conforming to their idea of treatment, despite the obvious fact I was happy doing better and not half high on vast amounts of painkillers. I was very worried that by the time I was 30 my liver would pack up- never mind the fact that I was already taking massive doses at just 16. <br />
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My consultant was amazingly receptive as Perthes is not a common disease- his sole request was that I go in to be monitored for ways to help others too; he was brilliant and pointing me towards NHS services that are so called unconventional. At nearly 30 it's stabilised and I don't use any drugs and haven't for years.<br />
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When I left home at 17 I started to flower within myself; for so long my personal philosophies were suppressed and as time went on I found it really hard to nurse and be myself.<br />
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At just 19 I found out I was pregnant with my daughter- sadly things didn't work out with her father and we parted. Frightened and very depressed, I found the whole thing very hard to manage; the fear from the midwives that I'd not be able to carry to term because of the hip issue, the agonising pain as I progressed through my pregnancy, soon I was swamped with "help" and once again my notions were dismissed as madness.<br />
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They intially wanted to do a planned cesarean section as they just weren't sure how my pelvis would expand- if at all! I found an advocate to at least let my pregnancy go on and plan closer to the time of birth, I really was so sure I wanted to deliver vaginally. Three weeks before my due date my labour started. I was at home alone and very very frightened of all the tales about how it "had been the worst pain of your life/ the most horrendous day/episiotomies/tears/botched/forceps/placenta left in".... No-one had a good word to say about giving birth, I had planned to just let things roll and take on one pain relief option bit by bit- I had a TENS machine but within a few hours I had rung an ambulance- my contractions were on top of another. My daughter arrived on the sofa with just gas and air and I felt joy! It did hurt, I did tear a tiny bit- but it wasn't what they all said... I felt like a goddess!! We went to hospital and later discharged and I started to re evaluate my thoughts- what else were they wrong about? <br />
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I started to breastfeed but the help was poor; my mum truly finds it sexual and spent a LOT of time telling me not to do that in front of my father... My sister had never even considered there was another way to feed other than a bottle and so I had no support beyond a few weeks- soon my confidence slipped when she ws feeding lots; I thought I wasn't making enough- and then the nagging started that I wasn't being fair and I was being a martyr so the formula came out. I was feeding her in secret at night when no one knew. I didn't even tell the health visitor - I don't know why but I started to believe I was wrong, the saddest part is that if I'd have said something I would have known she was a HUGE advocate for breastfeeding but didn't need me to feel bad for my choice as she could see I was already teetering.<br />
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Then the vaccination schedule started- I didn't feel quite right.<br />
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I allowed oral Polio and then was persuaded to give the diptheria. This was at the time of the MMR debate and I had started back to work so I was privvy to how scared the NHS was; this made me question why they were so frightened if it was so safe. I started to look into it all and decided to hold off,she'd been SO ill with a tummy bug after the last vaccine I didn't want to carry on she has always been a tiny thing and couldn't afford to lose an ounce. Dr was not happy and voiced it to me but was open as well. We agreed to postpone. Indefinitely.<br />
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I never really said much to my parents knowing I'd be ridiculed, by now we were all but strangers.<br />
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Her dad and I had worked it out enough that we were on friendly terms and he still sees her often.<br />
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Time went on and my health visitor retired to be replaced by a lady that was pretty convinced I was a terrible mother and made it very clear. I did start to question myself,but by now my daughter was 3- a happy bright little thing had never been ill - the odd sore throat or a cough & cold type thing. That was enough for me. We moved house some 100 miles when she was 4- a new start, a new life. I'd had a late miscarriage and I needed to be away from everything, have some time out and move on.<br />
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Soon after we moved, my daughter caught chickenpox after going to a baptism. It was mild and a few days later she was right as rain! In 2008 my son was born at home. The midwife was great. He didn't even consider that I'd not breastfeed. As my son latched on for his first feed the midwife smiled at me and said "<b>That</b> is the best gift you can ever give your son." Family life settled in; Mark has always been very supportive of my choices and desires, simply making sure that everything else is done so I can just sit and feed. This time I was proud to shout out YES I'm breastfeeding- I don't speak to my family anymore. I just stopped calling, and so did they. I do often wonder what they'd make of my life! <br />
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I've had a few bad days where I'm knackered - I work as well by choice and necessity but I can look at my boy and know I am doing the VERY best by him. The health visitor popped by when he was 2 weeks old as is standard here; sadly I was hoping for 'wow, well done' and I got lots of 'how I could have more sleep and how selfish it is when dad can't feed' - I asked her to leave and not return.<br />
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Daniel has only been ill once- possible Rotavirus (he just breastfed lots, was sick when he needed to be sick, and I just worked with it- within a week he was back to normal.) I had shingles a little while back I was a bit worried as I was in my first trimester, but all was well. Daniel caught chicken pox from me - so mildly I only saw a spot in the sun! All he needed was some extra breastmilk and he was fine.(In the UK we don't vaccinate for chickenpox nor Rotavirus. ) Both children have been fit & healthy; both children go to groups and activities an awful lot and have never caught anything.<br />
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I don't really have a lot of friends; I find it quite hard to mix with people. I do genuinely enjoy my own company. <br />
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My girlie has 100% attendance record for school which she's very proud of and itching for a certificate!<br />
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I asked the midwife that attended Daniel's birth to be my midwife for this pregnancy as well he's quite happy to let me call the shots. He's never tried to persuade me to do anything and truly believes that we all have the right to informed choices. He was overjoyed when I said I was still feeding Daniel!<br />
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Overall I guess I've been quite lucky- I've met some resistance but not much.Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-2166572158491909812010-04-05T13:39:00.000+10:002010-04-05T13:39:07.861+10:00On being a wetnurse.....<a href="http://www.breastfeedingmomsunite.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/historicalwn1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.breastfeedingmomsunite.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/historicalwn1.jpg" width="187" /></a>I've always been in childcare, from my beginnings as a babysitter in my early teens until now. I have always loved children- loved their innocence, loved their simplicity, loved their exuberance and acceptance and fearlessness.<br />
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I had read about women who breastfed other babies- I always considered it sort of peculiar. It made sense, but surely formula is just as good, right? <u><b>Wrong.</b></u><br />
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When I became a mother, I continued to work privately, looking after children in their own homes. I couldn't tolerate the factory-style care in child care centres, where basic needs were met but there was little time for nurture, love, care or individuality. I loved forming a bond with the children I cared for, and this is difficult to do when you have 4 children under 18 months in your care, which is common in child care.<br />
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After my son was born, I continued to work, but I did not wet nurse. It was never something which entered my consciousness- why would I physically breastfeed someone else's child? I had a huge supply though, and after my daughter was born and I tandem fed my children, I realised I was capable of producing a lot more milk than most women. I sprayed milk everywhere whenever let down happened. I soaked through towels every night. I could hold a cup over my nipple while feeding only one babe, and I could easy catch 250ml pouring out. Forget breastpads, I soaked a hand towel on a regular basis.<br />
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When my freezer filled up with milk, I realised I should donate breastmilk or it would be going to waste (I went and had blood tests and got a clean bill of health first). So I gave it away whenever I could to the people around me who needed it. I donated to a woman interstate who had hypoplastic breasts. I donated when a woman I know was admitted to hospital suddenly and they could not admit her 3 months old baby- she was so dehydrated she was unable to make enough either. I donated to a friend in anticipation of her premature baby being born 8 weeks early so her premmie didn't have to be exposed to formula in NICU. I donated to a woman I didn't know a few suburbs away who has a tiny supply- she has since become my friend. I was in awe of my breasts- these amazing mammaries which could feed more than just my babies.<br />
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The first baby I wetnursed was the child I was donating to a few suburbs away; she came to collect the litres of milk I had stored for her, and he was hungry. She asked if I would feed him instead of using some of the frozen milk- so I did. It wasn't strange- it felt really normal, really natural. It felt right. I was starting to see just how beneficial this would be, and wondering why more women didn't do it. So many women are using formula to complement their baby's breastmilk- why not use donated breastmilk, or have another woman cross-nurse your baby? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSownQuad0ai7GjrrgrzPPl5Jq0uYqjCUOR7fpZwqrgce83FygqvwY8-yKr9f2tsxYuQ2U3rTL1arhhFHKSEzmwBxON8EDVF3HMbY2AQHgOC5utVaMccK6zwvKxsY5uCmvLfqLTH3g5MM/s1600/boobing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSownQuad0ai7GjrrgrzPPl5Jq0uYqjCUOR7fpZwqrgce83FygqvwY8-yKr9f2tsxYuQ2U3rTL1arhhFHKSEzmwBxON8EDVF3HMbY2AQHgOC5utVaMccK6zwvKxsY5uCmvLfqLTH3g5MM/s320/boobing.jpg" /></a>I started work with a new family one day a week, and the mother was the first to broach the subject. I hadn't considered it before this- I had felt the urge, the instinct, to open my top when holding a crying baby, but I had never been asked to breastfeed someone else's baby directly. She was very casual about it, and I agreed. I began offering it to him in the middle of the day before his sleep, but he refused. One day he was upset, so I put him in a Mei Tai and he snuggled up to my chest. After a few minutes, he licked my cleavage. I whipped out my breast and left it there for him to access, and after a few minutes he latched on and drank deeply, falling asleep in minutes. Success! The next few times he smiled at my breast for a while first, as if discerning the friendliness of my nipple, before latching on and heartily drinking. Before long, he was actively asking for a breastfeed, coming up to my shyly and gently pulling on the neckline of my top. Whenever my daughter was breastfeeeding, so was he- soon he was having 3 breastfeeds a day.It felt lovely to be able to give this little person the perfect milk for him. (That is the prince himself, shown at right.)<br />
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I have now started wetnursing with a new family who have a 6 month old baby. I was hired because of my babywearing experience, childcare experience and attachment parenting ideas. The mother had never considered I would wetnurse her baby, but when she spoke to my reference (who is the same woman who encouraged me to wetnurse), she told her about the breastfeeding relationship I have with her child. She was quite shocked- wetnursing is now something alien to our society, whereas 100 years ago it was common practice. When I attended my interview, she discussed it with me. At first, she said she was quite 'weirded out' by the idea of me breastfeeding another person's child. It is a challenging thing to wrap your mind around in our homogenised society. She thought wetnursing was a bit strange. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. If her baby was distressed, I could comfort him in a way that holding and rocking never could. Expressing enough wasn't as much of an issue. If he wanted more milk than she had left, he has a fresh supply. Just because his mother had to return to work doesn't mean he misses out on breastfeeding while she is gone. Her comfort zone was challenged, her preconceived ideas about what was normal were questioned, and she came out the other side with a totally different view.<br />
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<a href="http://www.theflorentine.net/media/issues/Wet%20nurse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.theflorentine.net/media/issues/Wet%20nurse.jpg" /></a>Society used to condone wetnursing- it was used in the case of ill women, mothers who died in childbirth, women without supply, the rich, the poor and everyone in between. Sisters, mothers, aunts, even grandmothers breastfed babies who needed to be fed. In ancient cultures, it was common to breastfeed any child you knew who needed to be fed. In indigenous tribes babies are fed by the village- not only does this help share the burden of childrearing, but it also gives children access to more antibodies than their mothers could ever provide alone. Yet our society has become one of people being afraid of others, of disconnection, of isolation. Our world is becoming more detached- we are encouraged to move our babies away from us, give our babies alternatives to nature, feed our children genetically modified foods and clean our houses with toxic chemicals. Our society is moving further and further away from being human, from connecting with nature and each other.<br />
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All children should be breastfed for a minimum of 2 years. When you look at the suggestions from the World Health organisation, you see that even they recommend wetnurses.<br />
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<blockquote><blockquote>"For those few health situations where infants cannot, or should not, be breastfed, the choice of the best alternative – expressed breast milk from an infant’s own mother, breast milk from a healthy wet-nurse or a human-milk bank, or a breast-milk substitute fed with a cup, which is a safer method than a feeding bottle and teat – depends on individual circumstances." (W.H.O, <a href="http://whqlibdoc.who.int/publications/2003/9241562218.pdf">http://whqlibdoc.who.int/publications/2003/9241562218.pdf</a>)</blockquote></blockquote>Yet we live in a society where women would rather buy modified, sugared, powdered cow's milk to feed their babies because they simply don't consider there might be women out there opening their arms and their nursing bras to babies who need to be away from their mothers or who are born to mothers who cannot breastfeed. Women would rather feed their babies modified inferior milk from an unhappy, antibiotic-tainted cow than put out the call for breastmilk donors or a wet nurse. It isn't even considered an option. Other people's breastmilk is considered strange, gross, a bodily fluid. Our breastmilk is fine, but other people's breastmilk is just too foreign for many women to even consider. Why is this so? If a woman has had testing done, and eats a healthy diet, why wouldn't you choose her milk over that of a cow? With everything we know about how superior breastmilk is to any alternatives, why are so many women still turning to formula?<br />
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When I look at these two options if I can't breastfeed my child, I know which one I would choose.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnjKixB2aMh8RaD9rUMKL_SlNLYGJie2C2Fc52z1X4uy-U0HRYrGir59O_R8s0ul5TePFZVLxXs7ywSOFOntobmUUIgrJ3d6se6ZJayaBNEI-PbylAKQarWDPQCza7AE73K7VKd-S17HX/s1600-r/cattle-dairy-03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnjKixB2aMh8RaD9rUMKL_SlNLYGJie2C2Fc52z1X4uy-U0HRYrGir59O_R8s0ul5TePFZVLxXs7ywSOFOntobmUUIgrJ3d6se6ZJayaBNEI-PbylAKQarWDPQCza7AE73K7VKd-S17HX/s320-r/cattle-dairy-03.jpg" /></a><a href="http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e366/beachcat5156/501531-31med.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e366/beachcat5156/501531-31med.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><br />
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If you have cross-nursed or wetnursed a baby, please feel free to share your story.Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-81435333067471175342010-03-30T11:34:00.000+11:002010-03-30T11:34:01.686+11:00Surviving my childhood I'm a survivor, but I'm not a person from a reality television show. I'm not from Destiny's Child, shaking my booty and watching the money roll in. I'm a woman, a mother, a daughter, a cousin, a niece, a granddaughter, and a survivor of childhood abuse.<br />
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I come from a middle class family. My sisters and I were raised by babysitters, childcare workers and then a nanny while my parents earned enough money to pay for a comfortable life for us all. My parents thought that paying someone else to raise us while they worked for 10 times that amount was worth it for the future of our family. It wasn't.<br />
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I was sexually, physically and emotionally abused. I was abused from when I was 5½ until when I was 10½ years old. I was abused by a woman, her husband and her brother. These people were supposed to care for my sisters and I. They were entrusted with our wellbeing, and instead they crushed our spirits.<br />
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Abuse damages people immensely irrespective of when it happens, how it happens, or how old you were when it happens. It has resounding affect on who you are. It changes you in ways you still won't realise for many years. The lasting effects of abuse are even more painful because there is often no physical scars to show the damage that has occurred; there is no exterior sign to show people you are fragile and need help.<br />
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The people who abused me were sadistic pedophiles with no compassion. They were also Jehovah's Witnesses with a religious exterior and an involvement in their community. She was a childcarer, her husband was a bartender, her brother was a doctor. They presented an immaculate façade. They contorted my life so extremely that I do not remember vast periods of my life right up until my late teens when I sought psychological help.<br />
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I was raped, drugged, held underwater, suffocated, locked in rooms, starved, beaten, made to eat feces and drink urine. I was forced to perform sexual acts on all three of them. I was tied up and I was put in car boots while they shopped or went to (her husband's) bar to get my baby sister drunk. My sisters suffered different abuse; they were abused emotionally and physically. I was at an age when they could groom me and then abuse me horrifically, so they did. When they met me, I was also a child used to being ignored, a child used to being shunted, a child who did not have a strong attachment to anyone. This makes it easier to abuse a child, and I was a prime candidate because my parents were so disconnected.<br />
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I thought this was all normal. I thought everyone had someone who played heavy metal music at maximum volume while they raped you on a towel. I thought everyone had to keep secrets from other adults or else you would be killed.<br />
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I went to friend's houses and it was normal there too; one friend's dad had a tattoo on his penis which he liked to show us and ask us to touch it. Her 5 brothers all did the same. Another friend's grandfather would ask us to sit on his lap and he would fondle us and then digitally rape us as he read to us. This was life. I would have swapped their lives for mine, though- it seemed they had it easier.<br />
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As a teenager I was a self-mutilator, writing dark poetry and smearing it with my own blood. I became bulimic and then vacillated between anorexia and bulimia. I attempted suicide and I tried any drugs I could. I slept with anyone who looked at me, starting when I was 13. I got drunk as often as possible and I was raped at parties when I was too drunk to fight back. I teetered on the edge for so many years that it was normal for me. I felt dead inside and I thought it was normal. I slept with men older than my father with little understanding of the way I was continuing the abuse. In my last year of school, I lived on the couches of other people, in the apartments of men I had just met, and for a few days in the back of a ute when I had nowhere else to go. I was adrift and I did not know how to anchor myself. It seemed I had always been adrift.<br />
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I am still recognising the way the abuse I endured has affected my life in ways I never considered.<br />
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I underwent intensive psychotherapy, using so much of my weekly salary as a waitress that I barely had enough for rent. I would rather go without food than go without my psychologist. She was the one person who helped me understand myself, understand what had happened, process the years of hurt. Without her, I would not have made it to 20. But I did. I struggled through, trying to make sense of it all, trying to find a reason to live. I attempted suicide one more time when I was 22, sick of the suicidal thoughts and the bleakness of my life. I decided that if I managed to live, then I would throw myself into trying to live. My older sister saved me, finding me on the edge of a creek on the edge of unconsciousness and racing me to hospital. I survived. Just as I have been surviving for almost my whole life.<br />
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I don't expect a medal, or pity, or even understanding. I don't make excuses for myself because I was abused, nor do I allow myself to be a victim. I made a choice- I decided that I was going to make a difference. I was abused, but that did not make me who I am today. It is a part of me, and it always will be, but it is no longer how I frame myself.<br />
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I parent my children with love and attachment. I make sure they feel safe and secure so that when they are older, if anyone approaches them or tries to abuse them then they know that it is wrong, know they should scream, know that it is wrong, know they can come to me. I am present in my children's lives. I do not let strangers look after my children, I do not leave my children with anyone I do not know, I am hyper-vigilant. I cannot imagine leaving my children to be raised by others at all- let alone from when they are small. My children know they are loved. My children will not be raised by other people because they have a mother, and no money is worth missing my children's childhoods. I will not make the same mistakes my parents made, trading money for our childhoods.<br />
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Today, everywhere I go I meet other women and men who have been abused. Often, survivors tend to gravitate towards each other. It saddens me to think of the vast number of people I know who have been abused as children. Yet, the majority of survivors I know are strong people who have overcome adversity. They are amazing people who have hurt in their hearts but love in their eyes. They try to help others because they were never helped. I hope I do the same.<br />
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Today, my parents still refuse to acknowledge that abuse we all suffered. I am manifesting these memories, recreating my childhood, fabricating these ideas. They are terrified of facing the harsh reality of their mistakes. So I am the one who has to validate myself, I am the one who has to be strong enough to stand up and say this: I was abused, I was hurt, and it was wrong. No child should have to suffer, no child should be abused. And yet I did, but I survived. It would have been nicer to have experienced my childhood rather than simply survived it, but you cannot undo what is done. All you can hope to do is heal the wounds until they no longer hurt.<br />
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<b>If you suspect someone is being abused, whether they are an adult or a child, please report it. You could be making a world of difference.</b><br />
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Here are some links for those who need some guidance: <br />
http://www.cyh.com/HealthTopics/HealthTopicDetails.aspx?p=243&np=293&id=2358<br />
http://www.nswrapecrisis.com.au/Information%20Sheets/Survivors%20of%20Child%20Sexual%20Assault.htm<br />
http://www.secasa.com.au/index.php/workers/50/133<br />
http://www.secasakids.com.au/<br />
http://www.laurelhouse.org.au/asp/content.asp?articleID=516<br />
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I have a few great books on processing and healing the effects of childhood sexual abuse; for those who would like to borrow them please feel free to email me at motheringearth@peacemail.comEarthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-83227125211554988842010-03-29T12:29:00.000+11:002010-03-29T12:29:23.855+11:00My journey and the stigma of single motherhoodDuring the course of my life, I have known many solo mamas- strong, witty women raising their children while the men-folk they bred with took a different path. I never thought of them as different, I never considered them lacking because a penis-toting man was not there standing beside them. I thought they were brave and stronger than even they knew. But I was not going to be a single mama, no thankyou. My parents have been together for over 30 years. I was going to be in a stable, everlasting, equal relationship.<br />
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When I became a mother, I fell in love with my son so deeply I was afraid I might love him too much. I knew I had to protect this small person from the perils in this world while keeping a balance with exposing him to the beauties of this world. I had a partner who was kind, and charming, and warm. He was a lovely man who I deeply loved. We worked together and there was harmony, music, love, mutual consideration and kindness. I was supported and life was perfect- well, almost. Small things started to make me wonder whether or not I was alone here... I researched choices extensively and when I presented them, they were accepted. We agreed on most subjects. What I felt was right was never questioned. I started to feel like I was the only person who actually cared; I started to wonder if perhaps I was much more invested in this small human than he was. I asked him and he shrugged his shoulders.<br />
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I considered this was just the way things were- as a woman, and a mother, of course I cared more. I loved more. I thought more. I put in more. But why? Was this really how most people lived?<br />
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I loved my son, and I yearned for more children. I wanted another baby, and he agreed. We were very fertile, it only took 2 months before I was pregnant again. My son was 9 months old, and I was ecstatic. Two babies to feed together, two babies to grow up together, two babies to lavish my love on.<br />
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I was incredibly sick for the first 20 weeks of my pregnancy. I could not function, I could barely move, I vomited every time I ate. I lived on ginger beer and apples. I still worked, because I had to- he did not. I still cleaned the house, because I had to. I coped, because I had to.<br />
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I wanted a homebirth, and he did not. I would not budge. I was going to have my baby at home. After a few months, he agreed. He had no choice. This is not a man's choice to make. <br />
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The turning point for me was one day as I was at work, breastfeeding my son over my 36 week belly. I was working 40 hours a week over 4 days. I was exhausted but I continued so I could pay for my homebirth. He was not working, he was studying. He was not helping me. I was not supported, I was not cared for, I was not in a partnership but more of a beneficial scenario for this man. I raised my concerns and he dismissed them, dismissed me. I was pregnant, I must be hormonal, I must not be clear-headed. He invalidated me and I let him.<br />
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After our daughter's birth, things became worse. He did not find work, despite me imploring him. I went back to work when my daughter was 3 weeks old, my 18 month old son also there with me- because I had no choice. If I wanted us to stay afloat, I would have to be the one to tread water. So I did. And when I came home with my two small people on public transport at 7pm at night to find him asleep in bed, the house a mess, and Uni subjects failed, I was livid. I was working myself beyond exhaustion, and he was sleeping.<br />
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When she was 6 weeks old, I decided enough was enough. We had a roaring fight, and I asked him to leave. He did. So we were alone, and I was the one who did everything. I had no help, no family, no close friends who lived in my state. I didn't even tell my family for months. Instead, I just did what I had to. He did not see his children for weeks at a time, he missed almost a month of her life when she was 4 months old.<br />
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I was deeply ashamed, but not that I was a single mother. I was deeply ashamed that I had chosen this person as the father of these two beautiful children. I was deeply ashamed that I had failed them, because I had not chosen better.<br />
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Over the next 18 months, we went through periods of trying to make it work. Well, I should say <b>I </b>went through periods of trying to make it work. We lived together. We lived separately. He refused to see a counsellor. He said we could just make it work. Yet it always came back to the same, lonely, unsupported place.<br />
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The thing that really interested me was the responses from others when they found out. There was deep pity, encouragement to seek couples counseling, teary eyes and pointed questions about "however will you cope?". I would talk about living in an unhappy relationship, supporting a man who didn't support me at all, earning the money and keeping the house clean and the fridge stocked and they would ask me how I would cope!!!<br />
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On the other hand, I had some women who barely knew me nodding their heads and looking at me with an "I told you so" glint in their eyes. I was too strong, too opinionated, too forceful. One of these women actually told me that I would "never find a man unless I toned it down and tried to be a little more demure." !!! What kind of world is this, where a strong woman is obviously single because the man she was with couldn't cope with her overwhelming dominance? (Please note the dripping sarcasm here.) These women always assumed <b>he</b> had left me. I liked to set them straight.<br />
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Suddenly, being a single mother was something I should be ashamed of, apparently. I was a blight on the community, ruining my children's lives, living off taxpayer dollars, using the system. I was reported to Centrelink for fraud, I received abusive text messages, I was hassled online. Women told me I was below them because I was single; as if being in a partnership made them better mothers, better women, better people.<br />
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What it boiled down to was that these women felt that I should feel less of a mother because I did not have a partner- well, more accurately, I did not have a <b>man</b>. Our society still sees women as objects, sub-humans, a gender who should be dictated to. Women continue this misogyny, directing it at other women, because they are so used to labelling themselves as wives, partners, fiances, girlfriends. A mother is not a good mother without a father for her children. Why? Why isn't a woman who stands on her own two feet and supports her children commended for her strength instead of looked down upon?<br />
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At school, the idea that you are a nobody without a boyfriend is still the norm. Girls who don't have boyfriends are somewhat amiss. It is the same for women at all stages of life; to be single and 20, 30, 50, is supposed to be something abhorrent. It is supposed to be an indicator that you have failed. And it was what I felt when my relationship first began to break down- I was ashamed that I had failed my children, that it was my fault.<br />
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What I now realise is that I have nothing to be ashamed of; I have not failed my children, he has. He failed me as well. Above all else, I should be proud. Because my children have the life they have because of my hard work and strength; they have shoes on their feet and organic food in their tummies because of me. They have beautiful wooden handcrafted toys and play silks. They drink pure water and they are not vaccinated. My daughter had the best birth possible because of me, and my son had the best birth he could expect in a hospital because I informed myself. My children have wonderful clothes gleaned from Op shops and bought on sale. They have hats and dresses and vests handknitted by me with wool I dyed. They sleep underneath blankets I made for them. They are happy little people who have everything they need in life, and more. And I am the person who made all of this possible. I am the person who made these choices for them. I am the mother who chose to fly solo because I know it is the best thing for us right now. <br />
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My children have a father, and he is a good father to them when he can be.<br />
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I am just thankful that my children have a great mother who wasn't afraid to stand on her own so she could give them the best life possible.Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-55278176444019247342010-03-12T16:51:00.000+11:002010-03-12T16:51:13.674+11:00Empowered women and the women who despise them.....<blockquote><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" data-ft="{"type":"name"}"> </span><span class="UIStory_Message">I wish women were respected more and objectified less. When we allow those closest to us to dictate our choices, we relinquish control over our own lives. When you defer to others about your beliefs and rights, you are essentially giving away your own power. Your life is your own, your body is your own, nobody gets to <span class="text_exposed_hide"></span><span class="text_exposed_show">make choices for you or force you to bend to their will.</span></span></h3></blockquote>This was my status the other night, after an eyeopener discussion on a woman's status which really made me consider where women stand in today's world.<br />
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I am a strong woman. I stand up for what I believe in; I have to acknowledge that I often come across in a way which rubs others the wrong way. I'm okay with this because I realise you can't always get along with others and that sometimes in order to educate people you have to push them out of their comfort zone and rub them the wrong way so that they start questioning their realities.I want to inform people on issues which are often controversial or difficult to digest, so I have become adept at not letting criticism get to me. (And I sometimes consider buying clothing like this because it nails it. http://rlv.zcache.com/the_truth_will_set_you_free_tshirt-p235714501406448758t5hl_400.jpg)<br />
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This week, women on Facebook made a stand and used pictures of themselves feeding their babies to show that breastfeeding is not obscene. Almost every profile picture was a beautiful statement of breastfeeding love. It was a lovely way to normalise breastfeeding. <br />
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A few hours into the campaign, a woman on my friends list had to remove her picture. We all know Facebook is discriminating against breastfeeding women. However, it wasn't a faceless Facebook employee who forced it to be removed. It was her <b>husband</b>. The same man who fathered the child she was nourishing in her picture- threatening her if she did not remove it.<br />
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I have to admit, I was shocked. Not only shocked that a man would threaten a woman over her breastfeeding picture, but shocked that a woman would remove it because she was forced by her significant other. Shocked because I really considered that women would stand up for what they believe in. Shocked because her husband's justification was simply an objectification of his wife- <i>exactly</i> what the campaign was trying to address. How can women rally against Facebook's backward policies when their own partners are sexualising their breastfeeding relationship?<br />
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However was really surprised me was the vitriol directed at me when I expressed my dismay and disgust at the emotional abuse and manipulation this woman was being subjected to; after her husband justified and objectified and laid the blame at the feet of other men who would objectify her: <br />
<blockquote> <span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">its about MY WIFE doing something that i found way too confronting</span></blockquote><blockquote> <span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">i did ask nicely about 5 times. if she cant get the message .. then fuck why am i married!</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">i kind of regret i said it and forced it upon her. but it comes down to respecting someone elses wishes.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">if you are going to blame anyone for sexualizing the breast<br />
blame the women that get them out in magazines.. blame the marketing companies that ram it down men's throats. blame society for painting the picture that is "sexuality"<br />
there's a fine line and to most men that line is fucking invisible</span> </blockquote>The basic gist was that other men would find her picture sexual. Other men would see it, save it, use it as a sexual tool. This man made his wife remove her picture 'in case' other men would find it sexual. He did not ask her to remove picture of her children which a Paedophile could save and use. This had less to do with someone saving a photo, and more to do with someone saving a photo of <b>his</b> wife, <b>breastfeeding</b> openly. His perception was that other men would be turned on by this photo. This was a little too close to a woman being forced to wear a Burqa because other men might find her attractive. He was uncomfortable with her picture being up, so he asked her 5 times, then threatened to remove her Facebook account- as if she was a child and he was her parent. Where does a man in Australia get such backward ideas about his partnership and respect? Where does a man get the idea that he can force his wife to bend to his will and that it is acceptable to disregard another human being's choices?<br />
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Strong women should stand up against men who dominate women and use their gender to wield power in relationships. Men should not be threatened by strong, empowered women- nor should other women.When a woman talks of her anger at being forced, those around her should support her and encourage her to stay true to her own principles. And yet, in this case of a man forcing his wife, and his wife expressing that she was not happy, other women gathered around to pat his back and congratulate him for being strong, while also applauding her for taking her poor husband's feelings into account. <br />
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<blockquote><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">I find it ABSOLUTELY disgusting that ANYONE is disrespecting ♫♫♫♫'s husband for voicing his concern and how dare anyone try to belittle her respect for her husbands feelings.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">You're an inspiration as a respectful woman and as a dedicated mother.</span></blockquote><br />
I, on the other hand, who questioned his motives and what gave him a right to force his wife to do anything, who supported her in her frustration that her husband would threaten to delete her Facebook account, became the subject of their anger. How dare I question his motives? How dare I ask relevant questions about the inequality in their relationship? These women acted as if he has the right to force her to do anything if he felt uncomfortable with it, that it was totally normal for a woman to have to defer to her husband and accept his insecurities.<br />
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<blockquote><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">Eath Motherhoood, if I were ♫♫♫♫, the only thing I would be deleting is my FB friendship with you for treating my husband like total shit and being a straight up bitch to him. Why on earth you would think it's okay to talk to someone's HUSBAND on THEIR fb status like that is beyond me</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;">its extremist mothers like you that give breast feeding a bad name and manipulate other people and bend them to your will</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: x-small;"> You truly give a bad name to mother's like me who breastfeed and love to be an advocate, Thanks for fucking up the movement!</span><br />
</blockquote>I never really considered the sexism in Australia; my mother is a Feminist and I grew up considering that equality was fairly visible in Australia- except in business and government. I considered that equality was the norm in relationships and families, that women were respected in their own homes for the amazing people they are.... And then my bubble burst.<br />
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I know I am rambling here, but it is difficult to understand why women use phrases such as "my husband wouldn't let me", "I have to use my other account so hubby doesn't know", "my husband doesn't think it is safe", "I just couldn't, he wouldn't agree." Why are women still subjugated? A man works to provide for his family, he's wonderful. A woman works at home to raise her family and she is valueless? It is 2010 and women still don't feel entitled to a part of their husband's paycheck, women still don't feel they can make choices about their bodies without the approval of their partners, women still feel the need to submit when faced with a husband who insists she adopt his choices. <br />
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For every empowered woman, you will find 5 powerless women who promote the patriarchal stance that women should defer to their husbands, support them regardless of the support they receive, 'look after' their husbands when they are being emotionally starved. As 'this is being a good wife.'<br />
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<b>An empowered woman is not a threat, she is a blessing </b><span class="text_exposed_show"><b>and an indicator of how the world should be</b>. It is 2010 and women are still considered inferior, malleable- if they are empowered they must be relentless Feminists or men-eaters.... Why is it that an empowered women is so frightening to the world at large, still?<br />
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For centuries women have been dominated, forced into submission, controlled by men. Why should we as women accept that our beliefs can be negated by what other people wish us to believe in? Where would you ever see a man accept this?</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">I will talk about this more in another blog, I feel disillusioned enough already on this topic. I'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes: </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.changingworld.com/catalog/images/CT-120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="http://www.changingworld.com/catalog/images/CT-120.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-9067917676288952992010-02-28T12:06:00.003+11:002010-03-01T10:34:52.278+11:00Childhood vaccination- fears, hopes and realities.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.whale.to/a/image/mendelsohn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="97" src="http://www.whale.to/a/image/mendelsohn.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>When we realised we were pregnant with our firstborn, one of the first topics to come up about parenting was vaccination. I lauched into all the information I had been collating pre-pregnancy about the risks associated with vaccines, the hours I had spent sourcing vaccine product pamphlets, my concerns about vaccination. As it turned out, my partner had never been vaccinated- his parents had chosen not to vaccinate any of their children. It is a pleasant relief to discover someone with the same views as you! Taking into account vaccines, toxins, disease statistics and our baby's newborn immune system, it was an emphatic <b>no</b>.<br />
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I never realised how provocative this decision would be to almost every person I came across!<br />
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It wasn't until 3 months into mother's group that I let it slip that my son was unvaccinated- they asked about the Rotavirus vaccine, and I said "Oh, we don't do that." <b>Her:</b> "Do what?" <b>Me:</b> "Vaccinate." I've never seen someone look so shocked- or so concerned. I imagined she must be really uninformed! At the next mother's group, the other mothers visibly moved their children back when they rolled near my son, chastised their small babies for trying to play with my son's lovely wooden toys (obviously, they were diseased!). I was sure I was paranoid. But the next time I arrived, there was a posse of 3 standing on the footpath before the hall, waiting for my approach. They made it very clear I wasn't welcome. It was as simple as one of the mothers saying "Oh, we thought you might have noticed, we think it might be best if you don't come to our mother's group- some of the mothers are concerned that their kids might <i>catch something</i>." The other mothers nodded, and I laughed, waiting for the punchline. They all smiled and walked inside, locking the door behind them. No punchline, just a good social ousting.<br />
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I realised then that I had made a choice which was common sense to me, but which was difficult for the uninformed to grasp. It's difficult to inform people when they are essentially misled on the topic of vaccination. <br />
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For starters, here is an example. When you give a child a vaccine, you are vaccinating them. In Australia, our government calls it an <b>Immunisation Schedule</b>. However, vaccines don't necessarily provide immunity. In many cases, they don't provide immunity at levels which will protect a child from the disease. So why is it called Immunisation, when this is misleading? <br />
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My mother was appalled when she discovered that my son wasn't vaccinated (my dad had known all along, and kept it to himself). I've never realised how ignorant most people are until that day- my own mother, an intelligent woman, a CEO, a strong educated powerful woman, turned to me and asked "But how can you put your son and other children at risk like that!!" I tried not to laugh. Where do intelligent, intellectual people get such backward ideas?<br />
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If you believe that vaccination protects babies from diseases, then why would you fear an unvaccinated child- your child 'should' be protected, so what's the difference? <br />
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So I started asking a lot of people about how they felt. "Vaccinating your child is REALLY important!" Why? "Because it protects them from diseases." How? "Because vaccines give your child immunity." Do they? More often than not, people told me they vaccinated their child because "That's what you do." Most people aren't aware of the real risks of vaccines. Most people aren't aware of the real risks of the diseases. Most people don't even know what is in the vaccines they are letting their children have, let alone what diseases they are being vaccinated for. Let's break it down.<br />
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<b>Hepatitis B- most babies receive this vaccine at birth, 2 months, 4 months (+6 months if one dose missed) </b><br />
Hep B is a blood-borne disease which is contracted through the use of intravenous drug needle sharing and sexual intercourse. Around 99.3% of the children in Australia are not at risk at risk of contracting Hepatitis B from a parent. The 0.7% of children who are born with a Hepatitis B positive parent or who have a family member who has Hepatitis B should consider vaccination or infection control procedures to prevent transmission. Worldwide, 5% of people have Hepatitis B. <br />
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*I'd also like to point out that many midwives are opposed to the Hep B birth vaccine as it causes side effects which interfere with bonding and breastfeeding- it can cause lethary, decreased appetite, fever, pain, gastric upset, excessive sleepiness and irritability. These can all dramatically effect a newborn baby and their breastfeeding relationship.<br />
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<b>Diphtheria, Tetanus, Pertussis, Haemophilus influenzae type b</b><b>, Polio- vaccines at 2 months, 4 months, 6 months.</b><br />
<b>(Note these 5 vaccines along with Hepatitis B are combined into one injection- Infanrix. So your child receives 6 vaccines at once. That's quite an assault on an immune system.)</b><br />
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<b>Diphtheria-</b> The last outbreak of Diphtheria was a group of 23 people in an indigenous community in the Northern Territory. This was in 1991. One of the people who contracted it died, the other 22 recovered. <br />
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<b>Tetanus-</b> The last known case of childhood tetanus in Australia was in 1969. Tetanus is a bacterium called <i>Clostridium Tetani</i>. Clothridium Tetani lives virtually everywhere, but the human body doesn't provide the right conditions for the bacterium to grow- infection can only occur when <i>Tetani</i> are introduced to the blood stream deep inside the body- such as a deep cut or puncture wound. Good wound management is more effective in killing Tetani than post-infection vaccination.<br />
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<b>Pertussis (Whooping Cough)-</b> Pertussis poses the highest risk to babies under 6 months old- yet vaccination does not cover them until they are 6 months old. Whooping cough is still prevalent in many parts of the world, but studies have shown that up to 84% of children who contract Whooping cough have been vaccinated for it. <br />
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<b>Haemophilus influenzae type b- </b>Also known as Hib, is incredibly rare in Australia- however some cases are still reported in Indigenous communities. In Africa, <b>0.06% </b>of children contracted Hib <b>before vaccination was introduced</b>. In Australia, the chances are even smaller. The most fatal strain of Hib <b>is not</b> covered by the Hib vaccine.<br />
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<b>Polio-</b> Polio is most prevalent in India, where in 2009, <b>741 </b>people contracted it. The population of India is <span id="main" style="visibility: visible;"></span>1,147,995,904. This means that in the country where Polio is seen as dangerous, the percentage of people who contract it is <b>0.000006%</b>. In Australia, the last case of Polio was seen in 1986.<br />
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<b>Measles, Mumps, Rubella- </b>Which of these pose a real risk to a child today? They can pose a risk to a woman who is pregnant and her unborn child, but so can chickenpox. Why should we vaccinate small children for these diseases which are merely skin rashes? Some people will argue that Mumps can cause sterility in males, but only 15-30% of men who get Mumps will get Orchitis- and sterility is a very rare side effect of Orchitis, occuring in only 2% of men. The Rubella vaccine is grown on <i>Human Fetal Diploid Lung Fibroblasts</i>. (That's a revolting froth of fetal parts.) This vaccine is one of the most dangerous, as it is a live vaccine, not a dead strain. This is why they wait until 12 months to vaccinate a child, as this vaccine is an enormous assault on a child's immune system. Putting aside suspected links to Autism, what is the point of this vaccine? <br />
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Then of course we have new vaccines, like the ones for <b>Rotavirus. </b>Rotavirus is basically Gastroenteritis.<b> </b>Interestingly, exclusive breastfeeding a child protects them against Rota Virus more than any vaccination ever could. <br />
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I don't agree with vaccination for many reasons, but here are a few of my own personal reasons (I will stop after a few, as this blog is becoming very long, and has been typed out twice!):<br />
<b>(1)</b> Vaccination doesn't guarantee immunity. There has never been specific antibody testing to determine how much immunity anyone will develop as a result of a vaccine.<br />
<b>(2)</b> Every time you vaccinate a child, you are also injecting them with vaccine additives- antibiotics, formaldehyde, viruses grown on human foetal cells, animal products, surfactants, preservatives (some vaccines contain thimersol, which is 48% mercury), aluminium, sorbitol, yeast, ammonium sulfate, MSG, sodium peroxide.<br />
<b>(3)</b> Contracting illnesses in childhood is how we develop life-long immunity. Vaccines only provide short-term immunity.<br />
<b>(4)</b> A healthy child has a better chance of fighting any illness. Vaccinating a child damages their immune system, attacking and weakening it before it has developed properly. We are supposed to be exposed to smaller viruses before we are exposed to larger viruses so our immune system can develop and strengthen. Vaccinating a newborn child is an assault on their immune system.<br />
<b>(5)</b> There is no harm in delaying vaccination until a child is older. You can wait until your child is 1, 3, 5, and still vaccinate your child if you feel the need.<br />
<b>(6) </b>I believe that vaccination poses a larger risk to my child than the diseases the vaccines are supposed to prevent. I know children who have had huge vaccine reactions. I know a child with vaccine-induced brain damage. I have seen bright-eyed children become duller, slower, less intelligent after vaccination. <br />
<b>(7)</b> I am not concerned that my children will get incredibly ill from any of the diseases they could be vaccinated for. I would rather take the slim >5% chance my child might get an illness than take the 100% chance of my child being injected with toxins, viruses, chemicals, antibiotics and additives. I would rather support their immune system than attack it.<br />
<b>(8) </b>Many children who have been vaccinated have <b>no</b> immunity to the diseases they have been vaccinated for. Why should I expose my child to a vaccine when it may not provide any immunity?<br />
<b>(9) </b>I live in Australia; where clean water supply, good medical care, infection control and adequate nutrition means that my children are at negligible risk of getting seriously ill from any disease.<br />
<b>(10)</b> The antibiotics used in vaccines aren't recommended for use on children under 6 months old, nor are they recommended for intra-muscular use. Why are they in vaccines?<br />
<b>(11)</b> SIDS has been linked to vaccination. In Japan, they made the decision to raise the vaccination age to 2 years of age, following a link to SIDS.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.whale.to/vaccines/hilary_b4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="90" src="http://www.whale.to/vaccines/hilary_b4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>One of my children has had a needlestick injury at a park, and despite not being vaccinated at all, he did not contract anything from his needlestick injury. Neither of my children have contracted a vaccine-preventable disease. As a matter of fact, none of the unvaccinated children I personally know (who number around 50) have EVER contracted a vaccine-preventable disease. On the other hand, I know many vaccinated children who have contracted pertussis, measles, rubella. <br />
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One thing that always stuck with me was this: you can always delay vaccination until you inform yourself properly about every vaccine. There is no harm in waiting to vaccinate your child. However, once you do vaccinate your child, you can't take back the vaccines that you've injected in your child. You can't undo the damage that vaccination does to a growing child's body and immune system.<br />
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If you want to research more yourself, consider looking up some links like this:<br />
http://www.avn.org.au/<br />
http://www.whale.to/ <br />
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It is also a good idea to look at the manufacturer's pamphlets from companies such as Merck who produce and distribute vaccines. Simply looking at vaccine ingredients and finding out what they all are can be a powerful lesson to us all. <br />
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Government websites can also be a good place to start, as they state many interesting facts without actually backing them up. They discuss the dangers of specific diseases but fail to tell us what the actual risk that the disease or the vaccine poses to our child.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.whale.to/a/image/haley2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="http://www.whale.to/a/image/haley2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1426762675695334634.post-65894041513764461362010-02-18T11:16:00.000+11:002010-02-18T12:45:48.257+11:00Fluoridated water and questioning the lies we are told.........<span style="font-size: small;">As a child, I grew up in areas where fluoridated water is the norm. My parents were convinced- and still are- that fluoridated water is the primary reason that we have such strong teeth. It wasn't until I hit my 20's that I started to wonder why fluoride was added to the water. I started to research it, and it was rather confronting to discover the reality behind fluoridated water. Did you know fluoride is used as a rat and cockroach poison? Fluoridated drinking water doesn't actually help your teeth. This seems really strange when you first consider it, because if fluoride isn't helping your teeth when it's in drinking water, why is it there?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">One of my first questions was simple: where does fluoride come from? Firstly, there is no chemical compound called fluoride- it's called flourine. It's a gas. When it is used in manufacturing processes, this gas captures certain molecules, and it becomes fluoride in different forms. It's added to our drinking water, it's in most toothpastes, dentists use it as a dental treatment.</span><br />
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<blockquote><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>All the fluoride used in water fluoridation is inorganic, artificially derived forms of fluoride.</b></span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The three forms of fluoride used are:</b></span></div><ul><li style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><b></b></span><span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fluorosilicic_acid">Fluorosilicic acid</a> (H<sub>2</sub>SiF<sub>6</sub>)</b></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It is also known as hexafluorosilicic, hexafluosilicic, hydrofluosilicic, and silicofluoric acid. <a class="sdfootnoteanc" href="http://www.voteoutfluoride.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=53&Itemid=61#sdfootnote1sym" name="sdfootnote1anc"><sup>1</sup></a></b></span></div></li>
<li style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><b></b></span><span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sodium_fluoride">Sodium fluorosilicate</a> (Na2SiF6)</b></span> </li>
<li> <span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sodium_fluoride">Sodium fluoride</a> (NaF) </b></span> </li>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Okay, so where do these fluoride come from? It comes from fertilizer manufacturers. It's a byproduct created when they manufacture phosphate fertilizers. It's not manufactured specifically for use on our teeth. It's also a toxin, and it is so toxic than companies trying to dispose of it have only a few choices- sell it or pay to dispose of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Where else is Fluoride or its derivatives used? Sodium flouride is used in different insect and rodent pesticides (here's a list of a few <a href="http://scorecard.org/chemical-profiles/pesticides.tcl?edf_substance_id=7681-49-4">http://scorecard.org/chemical-profiles/pesticides.tcl?edf_substance_id=7681-49-4</a>), it is one of the components in Sarin Nerve Gas ( <i>O</i>-isopropyl methylphosphonofluoridate), it is used in many medications and anaesthetics, Prozac's medical name is fluoxetine hydrochloride and it contains 3 molecules of Flourine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Fluoride might be beneficial to teeth</span><span style="font-size: small;">; some dentists are firm believers in fluoride and use it regularly, others are opposed to fluoride because it has never been scientifically proven to help teeth. Sodium Fluoride may assist in forming Fluorapatite, which is a component of tooth enamel- it stregnthens teeth. (Fluoride treatments might strengthen weak teeth, but prevention is better than the cure. Maintain good oral hygiene, brush your teeth, drink water after a meal to help remove debris from teeth, floss daily.) Dentists tell us to spit out and rinse our mouth at the end of a fluoride treatment. The toothpaste packet also states the same- not to be swallowed. If it is so toxic, why is it in our drinking water?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">How does fluoride in our water help our teeth, when it only comes in contact with our teeth for a few seconds at best? The other interesting thing about fluoride is that it actually causes some yellow and white blotches on teeth. So why is fluoride in whitening toothpaste? Isn't it counter-productive?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Fluoride was first used in Jewish ghettos and in concentration camps in Nazi Germany.</span><br />
<blockquote style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><blockquote><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span id="article">The first occurrence of fluoridated drinking water on Earth was found in Germany's Nazi prison camps. The Gestapo had little concern about fluoride's supposed effect on children's teeth; their alleged reason for mass-medicating water with sodium fluoride was to sterilize humans and force the people in their concentration camps into calm submission. (Ref. book: "The Crime and Punishment of I.G. Farben" by Joseph Borkin.)</span></b></span></blockquote></blockquote><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Sodium Fluoride has been linked to many diseases and illnesses and shortens life span.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Fluoridated water causes a build up of fluoride in the body- it accumulates in the pineal gland, in bones and in brain tissue. Fluoride facilitates aluminum uptake in bone tissue, weakening bones and resulting in increased bone fracture and osteoporosis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Fluoride has been banned from drinking water by countries as Finland, Germany, Sweden, Holland, France and Japan; even Britain has suspended it's use. The Netherlands banned it in 1973. The Czech republic decided against it in 1993. So why is it being introduced into more Australian cities?What choice do we have as consumers?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">You have some options, but not because our government is providing them. You can buy water without added fluoride from any supermarket (I buy Noble's Pureau because it comes in a cask bladder and I'd rather not buy water in plastic because of leeching of chemicals and the environmental cost of plastics). You can buy a reverse osmosis water system which removes fluoride and heavy metals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The sad fact is that the majority of Australians don't know the truth about fluoride, and that's exactly how the government would like us to remain. When you aren't aware, you don't complain. People forget that when it comes to making money, ethics are often left by the wayside. Putting fluoride in our water disempowers us all- we can no longer make that choice for ourselves or our children. We cook our vegetables in it, wash our fruit in it, eat pasta and rice bloated with fluoridated water, bathe in it. We are exposed to fluoride everywhere in our homes, and we simply don't have a choice, unless we want to install an expensive filter at our mains tap.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I minimise as much fluoride as I can in our home, but I can't stop the flow of it into my home and our lives. Most people simply shrug their shoulders and say "Well, the government adds it to our water, so it must be good."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">All that springs to mind right now is a quote by Hitler himself, a proponent of great evil.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">"Tell a lie long enough and loud enough and the masses will come to believe it"</span>Earthy Motherhoodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08025060640118106213noreply@blogger.com4