GladRags Gab

The snowflakes that fell on January 24, 2008 were so small they looked like glitter when the sun caught them-these are the details that come into sharp focus on the day that someone is born.

Because of the amazing digital technology of telephones these days, I know that at 8:50 a.m. of this day, I got the call-"Today's the day." Immediately my eyes smarted (today's the day!), and I braced myself-I was "on call" now. I was the "big sister doula," the person that takes care of the older child while their sibling is being born. This would be the third time I would get to witness a birth, not just through my own eyes but also through the eyes of a three year old.

At 11:21 a.m., I received the second phone call, lasting 18 seconds, telling me it was time to pick Astrid (the big sister) up for school and come home with her in order to be there for the birth of her younger sister, at their home. In this role, my job is to be firmly in the world of the child as their family transforms, expands. I take this role seriously, to protect the integrity of this major event and also because children respond very well to undivided attention. For this birth, however, I found myself drawn toward the sounds of this child making her way into the world again and again. What follows is the dual reality I found myself in: Astrid's and mine as we ate lunch, waited (not for very long!), and listened to the deep involuntary sounds of labor.

Astrid: "Kitty just ran out of there! She said, ‘Too much ruckus!'  Silly Kitty (laugh) Too much ruckus! (laugh) That one sounded like a horse. (pause) That one a dog. (pause) Oh, that one's a cow."

Me: Those are the most honest, amazing, deep, beautiful sounds I had ever heard. These are not sounds you will ever hear in any other situation. God, what a privilege to hear them. I'm so lucky. I can't believe so many people never have this experience. This is the story of going to the deepest places of the body to find the will to bear birth. "Do you want to go in and see the birth?"

Astrid:  "No, I want to go meet the baby after she is born. What is this? Can I have this yogurt? Mmmmm. I like this yogurt."

Me: "Mmmm, looks good. Your mom's doing a good job in there," (trying not to cry). "Are we going to make some necklaces later?"

Astrid: "Yes! You know what? My teachers know how to sing ‘Oh my darlin'!"

Me: "They do! That's great. Oh! Your Mom is calling us!"

We left our food and went into the living room at the very moment that Astrid's baby sister was lifted into her mother's arms by her father who had just caught her, with the help of the two midwives. I can't say what it was like for Astrid, but for me walking into the room was like walking into a brick wall emotion. My eyes and chest and throat crumpled immediately, and as I looked around, I saw the feeling mirrored perfectly in everyone else's face in the room. Whoosh!-the child slides in to the world-the father's face! the mother's face! my face, crumpled in tears.

Me: I will never forget the look on his (the dad's) face. What a moment. Look at that baby. Were mine ever that small?

Astrid: "Look at her small hand! She's so cute! (pause)  I'm still quite a bit hungry."

We went directly back to the kitchen and sat down. She ate her sandwich, wanted some mustard. She wanted to know what else I brought in my bag for her. I pulled out a light stick. We opened it up and cracked it into pink glowing life. Here, I'm a little ashamed to admit, is when she went back to her mother, holding her newborn infant in the first five minutes of her life, and said, "Mom! Look! I have a glow stick!" Her mother, of course, said, "Oh! That's great!" And Astrid came back with me to see what else we could do.

I am proud to report that I have witnessed five births now (okay, two were my own) and always come away from them wondering at the privilege of it. Here we go on about menstruation, but this, this person whooshing into the world, and the shocking love of it, that's what it, all these moon cycles, is all actually about. Whether we choose to flip one of those hundreds of cycles into a being or not, that's what they are about.

- Michelle A.L. Singer 

Michelle Singer is a freelance journalist currently living and working in Montpelier, Vermont. Former GladRags employee and menstrual enthusiast, she is also a great lover of books, hiking, and wrestling with the continual confusion of feminism. She lives in a multi-generational home with all her most important fans-her parents, husband and two truly adorable children.

I find myself thinking about food a great deal lately.  I started eating vegan about a year ago in an effort to be more intentional with the food that I was eating.  My sister gave me Omnivore's Dilemma for Christmas and now I fear corn (Michael Pollan writes about the over-abundance of maize in our packaged foods.  Santa (aka my mom) gave me a pressure cooker and now all I dream about is cooking beans instead of can opening them.

I want more.  More of less.

While on 43 Things I found this entry:

I'm backing off snobby, complicated cooking. Some of it takes too long, is too costly, or is just not as great as the recipe sounds.

Lots of fishes can be poached to perfection. So can eggs. The trick is to keep on the edge of boiling pot not boiling. And so many good sauces are now available commercially.

I'm done messing around with organic sugars and flavored sea salts and odd spices that cost 30 dollars a smidgeon. Simplifying and eating well should go together rather than be opposing forces.

I understand what this person is saying.  We get excited about climate change, we want to make change, so we go on an organic shopping spree.  Good effort, but just a bit more of the same, no?  My town, Portland, OR, is chock full of "foodies".  There is really good food here.  I like the care with which food is prepared, but it is just so over the top.  I find it to be interesting that even though many in my city no longer have to truly worry about the basics - food, shelter, water, and clothing - we still obsess over them all with fancy restaurants and culinary schools, LEED Certified millions of dollars buildings, purified water in sleek bottles, and designer cordoroys made of organic cotton.  I'm not sure we're really liberated from these basics if they take up so much of our time.  But I guess life is in the details, huh?

Even if not conscienciously, I really do have such high and unrealistic expectations of the luxuries that life should entail.  I wonder how long it would take me to unlearn that sort of outlook on life.  Even in my progressive, environmentally-minded community I do not seem to be able to find a truly simplified life.  We're all still United Statesians - buying, working, distracting too much.  Just el otro lado de la tortilla, or two sides of the same coin.

So, my question for anyone out there is - How do you feel about the organic consumer culture?  And what is the Decapitator trying to say?!

I was at a book group the other night with delightful, intelligent, mothers of small children who have an unspoken agreement that although we choose a book every time, we're really getting together for wine and conversation. In fact, our discussions in recent meetings have barely grazed the subject of the book whose premise we were gathered under.

At our last meeting, ongoing struggles of life: marriage, children, and wellness (sleep, sex, and prescriptions) inevitably consumed our conversation. When we lingered on mental health and I put forward my belief that all issues of health stem from a root cause (oftentimes emotional or spiritual), one woman offered her menstrual cycle as an example of something that is strictly biological.

For a few days every month, she said, her personality changes-she "hates everyone" and wishes she could just be by herself for those days. Since this happens only during PMS, it is clearly just a hormonal shift, she concluded.

This group of women doesn't happen to know about my dear love for the menstrual cycle and as they continued to talk in turn about menstruation, I, for once, just listened. The verdict was unanimous-thumbs down-and when the hormonal pill that now advertises that women can simply "skip" menstruation came up, the idea was welcomed.
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The basics about Herpes Simplex Virus are as follows;    

• About 50 percent to 80 percent of the adult population in the United States has oral herpes (commonly called cold sores or fever blisters), with as many as 90% having the virus by age 50.
• Most people contract oral herpes when they are children by receiving a kiss from a friend or relative.
• About one in five persons in the United States has genital herpes; however, as many as 90 percent are unaware that they have the virus.

As these facts display - herpes is quite common and while the symptoms are uncomfortable and sometimes emotionally devastating - please rest assured that there are many natural treatments to aid in the healing process.

Herpes is an infection that is caused by a herpes simplex virus (HSV). Oral herpes causes cold sores around the mouth or face. Genital herpes affects the genitals, buttocks or anal area. Genital herpes is a sexually transmitted disease (STD). You get it from having sex, even oral sex. The virus can spread even when sores are not present and that is why it is always important to communicate with your sexual partner(s) about your diagnosis of HSV.
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