Big Bird Thinks Breast is Best

6 01 2012

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Sesame Street has gone way down hill. (Damn you, Elmo!) Back in the day, Sesame Street was truly wholesome and worked hard to foster acceptance, caring, learning and hundreds of other good principles. So why does a discussion of Sesame Street belong on the reproductive health blog of a doula, childbirth education apprentice, and breastfeeding research assistant? Because throughout the 1970s and 80s, Sesame Street included frank, warm and fuzzy discussions about breastfeeding on the show. Even the popular Maria, played by Sonia Manzano, who has been on the show since 1974, breastfed her baby on the show. As the Huffington Post recently reported, breastfeeding on Sesame Street abruptly stopped in the 90s. They’re still showing feeding infants, but those feedings are all from the bottle. I, for one, am bummed. I thought they did an amazing job of tastefully showing breastfeeding as a healthy, normal way to feed a baby.

In my favorite clip, a woman named Buffy breastfeeds her baby in front of Big Bird. The segment’s sole purpose is apparently to establish the act of breastfeeding as normal. Here’s the transcript for the clip (embedded below):

Big Bird: “Whatcha doin’ Buffy?”
Buffy: “I’m feeding the baby. See, he’s drinking milk from my breast.”
Big Bird: “That’s a funny way to feed a baby.”
Buffy: “Lots of mothers feed their baby this way. Not all mothers, but lots of mothers do. He likes it because it’s nice and warm and sweet and natural. And it’s good for him. And I get to hug him when I do it, see.”
Big Bird: “Oh. Well is that all he ever needs to eat?”
Buffy: “Well, at first, when he was just born, and very tiny, this is all that he wanted and all that he needed, but now that he’s getting bigger, see, I mash up fruit and vegetables and sometimes a little bit of meat, and as he gets older he’ll need more and more different kinds of food to eat, but for right now, this is just fine. He’s drinking his milk.”
Big Bird: “You know… that’s nice.”

I love that Big Bird, who is developmentally aligned with a five or six-year-old, asks the same honest, curious questions that a real kindergartener might ask a breastfeeding mom. Just as children aren’t inherently racist, sexist or any other “ist”, children don’t view breasts as sexual or gross unless we feed them that idea. But they may not have seen breastfeeding before, and they might be curious!

Buffy answers Big Birds questions so gracefully, honestly and smartly. I like that she doesn’t shy away from using the word breast– there is nothing inappropriate about teaching children proper names for body parts. I love that while she’s clearly a breastfeeding advocate, she explains, in simplest terms, that not all mothers choose or are able to breastfeed, and without vilifying them. Buffy succinctly explains the benefits of breastfeeding: that the baby likes it best, that it’s healthy for him, and that it comes with skin-to-skin contact, in a clear, easy to understand and developmentally appropriate way. She explains how he’ll eventually be weened, and take on a healthy, balanced diet.

I imagine myself as a five year old being somewhat bored with this segment, but I think that’s fine! No one is forcing young children to be interested in what adults (or babies) do, just laying a foundation so that children will grow up imagining this healthy habit as a normal one. Sesame Street could make a huge impact if they’d return to this format of education, and away from the chaotic, grammatically incorrect world of Elmo. Educational television can be more than just numbers and letters. It can be about inclusion, friendship, hope, honesty, and promoting a multitude of healthy habits, like breastfeeding. And in the words of my childhood hero Big Bird, you know… that’s nice.


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No Right to Complain About Birth in Other Places

1 11 2011

As the world reaches a population of 7 billion, there is a good amount of media speculation that India is the place where the 7 billionth of us came into the world. This has spawned a number of stories on birth in India, including a photo essay and accompanying piece in the New York Times that is worth a read, despite Lynsey Addario’s small swat at midwives. At first I was excited to see the coverage. For the number of births that occur in India, there is shockingly little information available about it on the internet. It was exciting to see images that were so similar to the experiences I had in India this summer. And then I made a colossal mistake: I read the comments.

I don’t know when I will finally learn to stop reading the comments on news stories. I don’t think I have ever walked away feeling satisfied by the snarky responses of anonymous trolls. I want to clarify that the comments on the NYT piece are not terrible, but less compelling articles have far more infuriating vitriol. Though there is one comment from a midwife on the NYT article accusing Ms. Addario of fear-mongering by not capturing all the joy and love in birth which angered me. If only she had seen how joyless and unloving birth in India was. Is documenting a “cold, harsh detached feeling” in birth a disservice to women everywhere if it’s documenting reality? I’d say Ms. Addario is actually doing us a service by showing what birth in another culture is like– empowerment through education! As much as I’d like it, not all births follow the midwifery model of care. It doesn’t make those experiences any less real.

My anger may be heightened by my recent midwifery school application process. I have spent the last month in a stupor, thinking and re-thinking and challenging and questioning my views on birth. One of my courses of thought is about how we as a culture do not talk about birth. We talk openly about pregnancy and babies, but we often step around conversations regarding the actual labor process. Many women would consider it impolite if a stranger asked about their births the way they ask for details about their babies.

As a child, I never really heard birth stories besides my own and that of my older brother. We were both born via cesarean, so that is how I imagined a “regular” birth. I was by no means sheltered. I had a library of books about where babies came from and puberty, my mom and I had regular “talks,” and both of my parents were always happy to discuss absolutely anything with me. I had sex ed in school, starting at the elementary level, and in sixth grade I watched The Miracle of Life along with the rest of my class. (I was the only one who didn’t scream or look away during the birth scene.) Despite it all, birth wasn’t really a topic though. That was fine. Birth seemed very far away. It’s completely natural for children not to have a real interest in birth when there more relevant reproductive health issues to attend to.

Birth is not out there as a topic early in life, and it is rarely a topic of casual conversation until childbearing is imminent. Throughout our lives, we talk about the specifics of death and we discuss illness and medical treatment in detail, but we don’t talk about the particulars of birth. If a celebrity dies, we often hear grisly details about their deaths, and autopsy reports make headlines. If a celebrity gives birth, we learn the baby’s name. We don’t see many images of birth besides the overtly dramatic representations in the movies, or the tales of medical emergency and triumph through invasive medicine seen on daytime “educational” TV. Even most medical residents  have never seen a natural, unmedicated vaginal birth. There isn’t much public discussion about the birth problems the U.S. has, with our staggering cesarean rate and our failure to reduce infant mortality. (I highly recommend playing with this tool on google and comparing the U.S. to other developed countries.)

Therefore, it left me furious to read all these disparaging remarks about birth in India. Certainly many of the anonymous posters have not seen births in their own communities, let alone in developing countries. We are not the ones to judge the birth practices of individuals on the other side of the world. Yes, I saw a lot in India that made me angry. But I have seen a lot in Brattleboro that has made me angry too. There are injustices everywhere. Yes, birth in India is different. That’s only to be expected. It’s a developing country with a huge poor population. Most women in India have safe births and healthy babies, just like in the U.S. They have a place to go, and trained medical attendants, just like in the U.S. Frankly, I’m surprised the medical care I witnessed in India was as advanced as it was. As phenomenal as immediate skin-to-skin contact would be, these babies will survive being separated from their mothers for a few minutes, just like billions of babies before them. That nurse holding the baby by one leg is doing the best she can, and what she was trained to do. She probably works longer shifts every single day than most nurses in the U.S. are ever allowed to do in their hospitals. They do their best with what they have, while some practitioners in the U.S. take shortcuts that increase risk to both mothers and babies, and demean their patients in the meantime. It’s sad, but it happens every day in hospitals in our own communities. Who are we to judge a different culture for doing their best when we have so much work to do at home?


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Thayagam Trust

28 07 2011

Last night my host mom took me to visit Thayagam Trust, the orphanage I decided to support. Amma and I drove (with Pondy) to the outskirts of Madurai, and pulled up to the orphanage just as the sun was setting (we were asked to come in the evening, otherwise the children would be too excited by the visit and would refuse to study during the day). I received such an amazing welcome from everyone. Neela, the woman who runs the orphanage, is incredibly sweet and kind, and the kids all seem to take after her. They politely greeted me with “good evenings” but I could tell that underneath their docile facades they were oozing with excitement. Amma, Pondy and I were seated in chair to speak with Neela while the kids sat on the floor to “study.” Things got increasingly wiggly really fast so after five or ten minutes, Neela asked them to come up in small groups and perform for me.

Thayagam Trust:

They put on the most adorable performances I have ever seen. I videoed most of it but due to restrictions at the internet cafe, I’m unable to share such large files. In a couple of weeks I will though! After songs and dances, they asked me to play a game with them. A previous volunteer had taught them how to play Duck, Duck, Goose, so we played. It’s really an interesting game to play with a mixed age group. The littlest ones (four years old) who would be the right age for it ordinarily, were completely overwhelmed by the older kids who took it very seriously and kept wiping out on the very slippery floor. And, of course, as the guest of honor, I was selected as goose far more than any one person should. Here’s me knowing I’m about to be called goose:

After Duck, Duck, Goose, Amma insisted that I teach them a new game. As a substitute elementary school teacher, I have an enormous arsenal of games, but with so much pressure to come up with one RIGHT NOW and kids swarming at me and pulling on all of my limbs, I completely blanked on a good game to teach a multi-age group of non-English speakers. After a moment of panic, I settled on Coseeki. Using Amma for a lot of translation, I taught it to the kids. It took some work, but they eventually got the hang of it. If you’re not familiar, one kid leaves the room, and the rest select a “secret leader.” The secret leader starts a pattern like clapping or patting themselves on the head, and everyone else copies them. The outside kid comes into the middle of the circle and has to guess who the leader is. The leader keeps changing the pattern, so the guesser has to keep an eye for who starts the new pattern first and where everyone is looking.

After games, the kids lined up with their notebooks so I could write their names for them. They write their names in Tamil characters, so getting them written in English letters is a huge treat. For me though, it was kind of a pain in the ass. Most of them had really difficult names to spell!

Eventually, Neela kicked them all outside so Amma, Pondy and I could eat dinner, which she insisted we stay for. She served up some excellent food: channa masala, chappitis and aloo paratha. After dinner, she enlisted two of the girls to take me on a tour. The tour had basically already been taken. The room that we played the games in is currently the only room, where the children play, study, eat and sleep. At one end is the kitchen, where all of the cooking is done. There is one toilet for everyone (there are currently about 30 kids). In the morning, they all stand in line. Just outside of the main room are the buckets where they bathe and do their own laundry. There is hope for expansion though: there is an unfinished second floor with three bedrooms and another bathroom. It is currently entirely concrete and bricks and lacks a ceiling:

My tour guides:

Back downstairs in the main room, the sleepiness among the little ones became evident, and Amma and I decided we should head out before they fell asleep.

Here’s the littlest boy and girl, with their enormous backpacks:

I handed Neela the donation that I and some of my readers made– well over 10,000 rupees– which Neela said was the largest donation she’s ever received from a girl. The orphanage receives no government funding, and relies entirely on private donation. They receive enough to make sure each child gets plenty of food, but they lack the essentials we have like spare clothing and beds (they have mats and pillows on the floor). It was only recently that someone donated a door for the orphanage. Neela designated the money I gave to go towards uniforms for the children so they can be like every other Indian student. The children are all so incredible: sweet as pie, smart, polite, healthy and happy. I’m sure they are only this way due to the incredible care that Neela provides for them, and I’m so proud to be able to have helped the Thayagam Trust.

 

 


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With Big Sad Eyes

19 07 2011

This afternoon I walked out of my room to discover a strange little boy sitting on a stool on our enclosed porch. I smiled at him and he looked back at me with big, sad eyes and tried to smile back. After eating a mango I retreated back to my room, and later the boy was gone. Tonight, sitting next door with Amma, I learned that the boy was on his way to an orphanage. His family had abandoned him and Amma, who always somehow knows what’s going on and has connections with a particular orphanage, arranged for him to have a place to go. It completely broke my heart. I wish that I had known his fate while we sat on the porch together, so I could have offered him more than a smile. Surely this day is one full of fear and hope and confusion for him, and I’m sure he could have used some comfort.

Fahad and Natalie, who lived with me until recently, both went to the orphanage with Amma and donated needed supplies. This brief exposure to one of the sweet, innocent kids convinced me that I have to do the same. After my travel time, my last day in Madurai will be helping these little ones. A little bit of American money goes a long way in India and while I don’t have a tremendous amount to give, I’m sure I can make a big impact on the lives of these children.

[If anyone else is compelled to donate something to the orphanage, I'd happily buy supplies or give from my own bank account, and you can reimburse me when I get home... just let me know!]

 


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As Previously Mentioned…

27 06 2011

 

Here I am with the Indian class we interrupted by following some children onto the roof of a church. Indian children are camera fiends!


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St. Luke’s Leprosarium

12 06 2011

Last Wednesday (June 8th) I was picked up at a bright and early 6am by Project Abroad’s fabulous Austin, for a two-day trip to Peikulam (not on Google maps) to visit St. Luke’s Leprosarium. We collected three other girls from Madurai, all of whom I’d met before: Siri (Norway), Katie (Oregon), and Patricia (Germany). We drove about an hour from Madurai before picking up two more from a little village, Noemie and Jessica (both Montreal). Three hours more on the road, and we reached the tiny little village in the middle of nowhere, home of this amazing leprosy hospital. It was amazing to see how much my perception of India changed so quickly upon leaving Madurai. The scenery quickly became dry, sparse and scrubby. Cacti grows on the side of the road. It’s a whole different world from the loud, dirty city. I even spotted four or five wild peacocks from the car! (Who remembers they can actually be wild?!)

We were greeted at the hospital, shown our guest house, and treated to a really excellent breakfast. All of our meals there were fantastic, and I was definitely able to squelch my weight loss for a couple of days! After breakfast we were introduced to leprosy via PowerPoint, something I had not expected to see on my trip to India. I’ve become really, really into leprosy. The WHO claims it to be eradicated, but in India, it is still very, very real, and the disease itself is completely different from what I had imagined. Leprosy is a bacterium that is spread through respiratory droplets. Most people (95-98%) are immune to it, but a small percentage are not. It has a very long incubation period of at least five years, so people are unlikely to know they’ve been infected for a very long time. Leprosy is not an infection of the flesh, like I had imagined, but of the nervous system. Many of the deformities seen in leprosy patients are not primary symptoms, but results of injuries caused because the patient has lost sensation in their peripheral nerves, and unable to protect themselves, or feel that they may have a secondary infection. I could go on an on, but it is probably easiest to just say I find it fascinating, and suggest that you do your own research if interested!

After our introductory lesson and lunch, four of us took a walk into the village. This little place clearly sees less white people than Madurai, and we were treated like celebrities, with people calling to us and following us around and asking to take pictures. India has made me feel pretty popular. One Indian man compared his skin color to mine and laughed at me, but it was all in good fun and nice to connect with the people.

We then were given a tour of the hospital, and it was then that I realized just how amazing a place St. Luke’s is. They have three wards, two for men and one for women (following the 2:1 sex ratio of leprosy). Most of the patients have already received treatment for leprosy, and are staying as mercy patients. Because there is so much social stigma from the disease, these men and women have chosen a life in the hospital, rather than return to their home villages and families who will likely shun them due to their disabilities. St. Luke’s lets them stay for life, free of charge, and provides them with something to do: either working a job for the hospital, caring for their animals, or creating a craft they sell to visitors, like candles, palm baskets or woven bags. (I’m now the proud owner of five neon candles, handcrafted by one of the mercy patients.) St. Luke’s keeps both goats and pigs (yay!) and when a patient goes home, they are sometimes given a goat to take with them, in order to get their life and finances up and running. In addition to everything they do for the leprosy patients themselves, St. Luke’s also has homes for boys and girls, either children who have parents with leprosy and are in treatment, or orphans (primarily through HIV/AIDS). The people at St. Luke’s are so generous, and so kind. It really blew me away.

Once we finished for the day, we relaxed at our guest house. The children from the homes were on holiday (Indian school vacation right now) but the children of the staff were out and eager to play with us. I had so much fun with these kids. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time! There was one 12 year old girl, Mercy, who spoke some English, but the rest of the kids didn’t know much. Kids are kids though, and Siri and I especially hit it off with them. I don’t, however, recommended jump roping in the Indian sun, and in bare feet at that. Really taxing. I asked to take a picture of them, and opened up a huge can of worms. One of them then asked to take a picture of me and some of the other kids with my camera, and it was probably an hour before I got it back. It was, however, amazing to see the progression of their photography skills! At first, they couldn’t aim, but eventually they got quite good! They were hooked enough that for two days we all had to hide our cameras in our bags, otherwise they’d inevitably disappear and resurface later with nearly dead batteries.

Siri and I went for a sunset walk. We walked over to the piggery, and I scratched one of the pigs for a while. Next door to the pigs is a big rice paddy and we watched the sun go down over it. Gorgeous!

We then hopped a wall to continue our walk; pretty adventurous of us, though that was only the beginning of Siri and Emily fun (more to come on this weekend’s trip to Kanyakumari!). We explored the rice paddy and discovered an old well. The moon came out, and lit everything. The moon in India is so much more intense than the moon in Vermont. It seems much more bright and big, and I’m able to see the whole moon most of the time, regardless of how much is lit by the sun. Bats fluttered overhead, and for once it became a cool and tolerable temperature. It was such a beautiful walk, and the happiest I’d been in India, though I think now it’s already been unseated. When we got back to our guesthouse, some of the children had brought over raw peanuts. They kept shelling them and pressing them into our hands. I was stuffed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen unroasted peanuts in the US, but they are excellent, like a cross between peas and nuts (now I get the name) and I definitely prefer them to the roasted variety! Highly recommended. The kids got very attached, and followed us inside when we went in for bed. I spent my Wednesday evening laying in bed, with a 12 year old girl in bed beside me, writing out the lyrics to Christian songs in my notebook. What a different life from the one I was living just a few weeks ago!

On Thursday, we were given the chance to work in pairs to assess the condition and symptoms of leprosy patients. Siri and I sat with this incredibly sweet, ancient man and examined him. It was really fun and interesting to be able to work hands on with a leprosy patient! He was missing basically all of his toes and many of his fingers, but it seemed like his soul was in excellent shape, and he’ll always be in my memory.

After one final meal and sad hugs from children, we headed back to Madurai. I realized during this first venture from the city that I’m definitely not suited for Indian cities. I can tolerate Western cities, but this just feels too loud, too smelly, too dirty. And Madurai is supposed to be one of the better ones! It was fabulous to get away, and even more fabulous to leave town again for the weekend… more to come on my trip to Kanyakumari!


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Coming Up!

9 06 2011

Just got back to Madurai from an incredible two-day trip to a leprosy hospital far out in middle-of-nowhere India. I have to run to meet my housemates for a dinner out in 5 minutes, so I will post far more detail and photos next week, as I’ll also be away for the weekend, at Kanyakumari, India’s southernmost point!

But briefly, highlights of my time at St. Luke’s Leprosarium: a piggery, lots and lots of giggling kids who like to steal cameras and take photos with it, sunsets over rice paddies, clinical assessments of leprosy patients, raw peanuts, quiet, incredible food, buying candles from mercy patients, climbing over walls, cold water and walks in the hot Indian sun with new friends. I am completely recharged!

More to come, aiming for Monday!


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Underpants and India: A First Grade Perspective

23 05 2011

Today in first grade we started our mini India unit, which I’ve discovered is a perfect diversion when a lesson plan needs to change at the last minute. Today, rainy and particularly difficult for focused work, we kiboshed journal time and read The Story of Little Babaji, the 1996 reworking of Helen Bannerman’s The Story of Little Black Sambo. While the 1899 original is clearly racist in it’s nomenclature and illustrations, it’s story of a boy’s new clothes and a streak of tigers (yes, actually group name) is actually pretty sweet. The Story of Little Babaji essentially retells The Story of Little Black Sambo word for word, only changing the names of the characters to authentic Indian names, and updating the illustrations to portray realistic, majestic Southern Indian scenes, without the “darky iconography” of the original. It was a huge hit! I wish though, that illustrators would realize that images of little boys in underpants can instantly cause an entire class of first graders to completely fall apart at the seams. Why is underwear so hilarious to kids? Why can’t the boy just be hiding behind a tree? Why does it take two full minutes per page of underwear imagery to get kids focused again?

Then we made a list of questions the kids have about India:

First Grade Questions About India

The really big question, of course, was whether I would bring them back presents. “We’ll see,” I said, hoping they’d forget by the time next year rolls around. The rest of the week our read-alouds will continue to be Indian themed, and we’ll attempt to answer some of our questions! It’s a very exciting time to be a first grader!

Next week at this time I’ll be far removed from teaching life, somewhere over the Atlantic, on my way to India! Today’s preparations including calling my bank and credit card companies to inform them that I’ll be abroad. After an endless chain of pressing one for this and four for that, I finally was able to speak to a real human. She went through her well-trained spiel until I gave her the dates that I’ll be away, and then she cracked with excitement about how long I’ll be gone, and bubbled over with questions. It’s sweet to end a very automated experience with “Alright Ms. Martyn, thank you for banking with us and have a great day. And have a great trip! It’s going to be amazing!” Well played, Citizens Bank. (I then called Chase and failed to connect with an actual person. 100% automated.)

I also continued my efforts to fatten up before I inevitably lose weight in India. Last week was a failure—my strongest cravings are for fruits vegetables! My mom complains that this reverse weight loss saga is not fair. Tonight, while our housemate made instant macaroni and cheese with an electric kettle, I stood over the stove and whipped up some of the real stuff from scratch. Lots of cheese, lots of butter. Hopefully this will help me at least maintain.

Tomorrow is my last day in the Birth Center at BMH before I step foot in my new maternity ward at Booma Nursing Home in Madurai! My internship starts next week! It’s hard to believe how quickly the past few months have sped by…


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