Mac, mid-November 2021, covered in a blanket and pooping on the side of the road on the travel potty (also covered by said blanket).
Dreading your next long car trip with your kids? Never fear. I’ve got you covered tip to tail with everything you’ll need for your next journey, including enjoyable anecdotes from my own horrors on the road!
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One year with our sweet girl, as of this coming Monday. Cannot BELIEVE. How is that possibly true?!
In honor of our impending celebration, I bring you 15 things I’ve learned this year as a mom. Some are about parenting Rosie, some are about sibling dynamics, but all of them are lessons learned between 4/19/20-4/19/21.
Babies are different. Watching the difference between Mac as a baby (cautious, focused, not cuddly, steady, achieving) versus Rosie as a baby (wild as hell, no regard for her own safety, happiest baby in the world, a snuggle bug, does things in her own time) is just the tip of the iceberg, I know.
And their personalities seem cooked in. I’ve realized this year that parenting is like how Michelangelo described sculpting. He said it was “releasing the hidden figure from the stone in which it slumbered,” AKA, working to uncover something that is already there and has always been there. In some ways as parents, we have a lot of influence (encouraging kindness, nice manners, what we expose our kids to and when, etc.), but those core traits? Boy, they are baked in from the START. We’re just “releasing the hidden figure.”
Mac is the sweetest big brother. I knew that his heart was very tender and loving, but seeing him in action as a big brother has been nothing short of cry-your-eyes-out precious. He introduces her to everyone we encounter and makes it his mission to keep her safe. The best example of this is that Rosie loves to stand up and shake this particular side table we have so that the lamp sitting on it starts to rock back and forth. Mac has recently started going to the opposite side of the table and holding it in place so the lamp doesn’t rock, allowing Rosie to experiment, but finding a way he can help protect her in the process. I mean, come on. (A caveat here that he also pushes her down for no reason - he’s a sweet boy, but he’s still a 3-year-old).
Dads and daughters. I hate to be gender-specific because that’s not really The Thing right now, but there is a very special connection between parents and children who identify as opposite genders. Rosie has loved Jordan in such a special way since the day she was born and he sang her Jimmy Buffet songs. Her first real word was “Dada,” (RUDE) and she lights up like a Christmas tree when she sees him.
Nothing reminds you you’re a feminist like having a daughter. I was before, but I am newly inspired to hustle in my own life and work because of Rosie. Yes, I want Mac to see his mom succeed, but I want to be an actual blueprint for Rosie to follow whatever dream she wants. Our house has filled up with books like ABC What Can She Be? and Rosie Revere, Engineer! Obviously Mac is reading these, too, but we are all about some girl power in this house.
Having two children adds weight to your social responsibility. I have never been more committed to equity and justice than I am as the mother of two small children. I see it as my highest calling to raise these babies to be radically kind, loving, and to subvert any agenda that would oppress or discriminate against groups of people in this country. I try to limit the amount of “self-help parenting” stuff I listen to (mostly because I think there are a lot of knuckleheads out there who’ll say whatever they’re paid to say, but also because too much information is almost the same as no information - you can’t retain it), but I’ve recently found a great podcast I trust called Raising Good Humans. This episode about raising anti-racist kids really spoke to me (it features anti-racist educators Tiffany Jewell and Britt Hawthorne) and I left it feeling empowered and excited about my takeaways.
Speaking of education…one of the things on my mind lately is making sure that our children receive a high-quality education, but also (and maybe more importantly) an education that exposes them to people who look and live differently than they do. I grew up in a very racially diverse public school system in Decatur, Alabama, and I can’t say enough about the positive impact it had on me. Asheville can be very white, and I don’t want my children surrounded by only white people. I’m learning and working through the best ways to make sure I haven’t surrounded them with only white folks. It would be an easy thing to let happen by accident where we live.
Food is a journey. Mac and Rosie both eat like ice road truckers at the end of a shift. I have never seen babies who eat two fried eggs, a banana, and a tub of baby food for breakfast each day. It seems…impossible? And yet, it’s not. Right as Rosie has started her “any and everything” eating, Mac has transitioned to being a little more selective. I refuse to be a short-order cook, but sometimes that means we default to a “bath time Larabar” (shamefully a real thing) because we’re still feeling hungry after dinner. Things are a mess. Food is hard. We’re doing our best over here. Rosie is eating absolutely everything she can find. Including non-food items. Like chalk. Is chalk toxic? I honestly don’t know.
Children, um…repeat the things you say. The number of times Mac has said, “Damn!” is…well, a lot. It’s a whole lot. At first I tried to ignore it so he wouldn’t realize it was a Thing and then do it more…that failed. Now he says it regularly (and by the way he’s using it exactly right, which makes it that much worse/that much funnier. “Mom can I play with dinosaurs in Rosie’s room?” “Not right now, buddy, let’s let her have some quiet time.” “DAMN!”) and I’m gonna have to figure out what to do with him. Probably should start by not saying, “Damn,” huh?
Redheads are a special breed. Y’all…it is HYSTERICAL to me that I ended up with a red-headed daughter. About once a week, Jord and I look at each other and just say, “Can you believe this?” So many people have shared stories about their babies who had red hair to start and ultimately grew out of it. She certainly might! But y’all, her eyebrows and eyelashes are red. That’s gotta mean something. Truly wild and so fun. Her energy and her spicy little personality have been present from before she was born - she was very opinionated and gave me an extremely uncomfortable pregnancy (I dislodged a rib with Rosie, had bronchitis, terrible migraines, and a lot of less-savory symptoms I’ll keep to myself), which was a precursor for her very stubborn, wild, and joyful presence in the world.
Second children are nearly invincible. Sure, she cries when she gets pushed down or hurts herself, but because they’re born into chaos, second children are borderline mythical in their ability to manage nonsense. I remember once, when Rosie was about 6 months old - we were at my parents’ house, and somebody pulled up in their car which caused both dogs to bark in this REALLY loud, startling way - Mac screamed as loud as he could, it was a mess. My dad said that through it all, Rosie sat completely unbothered on the floor. Didn’t even blink an eye, he said, when the madness ensued. And this is evidence that…
Birth order politics are absolutely a Thing. First children are fussed over, catered to, spoiled with attention and peacefulness. Second and later? Whatever. They’re rippin’ cigs by the time they’re 6 months old. This is why younger children are so much more well-adjusted than their older siblings. (As an oldest child, married to an oldest child, who’s also the daughter of two oldest children, I consider myself an authority on this matter.) We’re not freaking out over every cry or potential hazard, which makes them calmer. They’re born into loudness, which makes them better able to cope with life. Our focus is already split when they arrive, meaning they’re carrying the burden of performing or garnering approval. Rosie’s job is just to continue l-i-v-i-n, McConaughey style.
Rosie is a master flirt. Mac didn’t really care about other people when he was less than one. He was sweet and interested, I guess, but Rosie? WOWZA. My little homie has her game on lock. She is replete with head-tilts, huuuuuge smiles, coquettish waves…I have seen grown men who do construction for a living fall prey to her tiny power. It’s amazing, and we have to stan a queen.
Everything happens in its own time. With Mac, I was so hyper-focused on milestones. I didn’t mean to be, but it happens naturally when you have one child and he or she is the center of your world. Was he crawling on time? Walking? Talking? How was his growth charting? What percentile was he in? With Rosie, I have relished every month and not given one single damn about any of that stuff. I’ve appreciated her baby-hood intensely. I’m so sorry to see it go, but I know I didn’t rush it or wish it away, and that’s a good feeling. We really soaked it up.
She is one of a kind. This little red-headed wonder is a smiley, snuggly, easygoing, but also completely diabolical child. We joke that she’s lived many lifetimes before she came to be with us because her gaze is so intense and her manner is just…old. Wise. Shrewd. She knows what’s up. It really is like she’s been here before. When she was born, my very first thought upon seeing her was how bright and clear her eyes were, wide open - I thought to myself, “She’s really in there.” Where I felt like Mac and I got to know each other slowly in those first few days, Rosie busted into this world up with personality all the way to the ends of her hair. She is completely full of life and bursting with individuality. I cherish the chance I’ve gotten to watch someone like her, so different from my equally wonderful first child, navigate the world and learn the ropes. Or maybe teach the ropes, honestly - it feels like I’m the one who’s going to be doing the learning in this relationship.
Happy first birthday to my angel Rosie, named for her stubborn spitfire great-great-grandmother and her kind, hilarious, artistic uncle - embodying all of those qualities and then adding an ocean of her own. She is the cherry on top of our sundae, spicy and sweet, born at the heigh of a global pandemic, and a genuine thrill ride. I’m on the edge of my seat to see what happens next.
Well helllooooooo, DOLLY!
Man oh MAN, has it been a while. My last post was shared sometime in…the fall?! Oy. That’s not a good look.
I’m comforting myself in the fact that the reason I’d taken a break was a good one: I was a miserable, first trimester pregnant person. The other big change in our house was that in September, Mac started pre-school (really, more of a “Mother’s Day Out”), and while that’s left me with 3 mornings a week to myself, it’s oddly thrown off my writing routine. For a while, I was using those mornings to come home and lie down on the couch to wallow in discomfort.
Are you sensing a theme? This pregnancy has been different!
If you’ve been hanging around this blog for a while, you know that my first pregnancy was a BREEZE (you can read more about that here and here!). The Lord saw fit to humble me this time, though, and so I spent the first trimester plagued with all the most cliched and unsavory symptoms, from bloating and lack of...regularity, shall we say?...to migraines, bad skin to nausea. And the mood swings. And the CRYING.
Poor.
Jordan.
But now, blessedly, we are out of those woods - actually, almost all the way to third trimester! So I thought it’d be fun to document a little of what has been going on.
How far along? I’m 26 weeks as of Sunday the 19th, due in late April!
Are you finding out the gender? We already know! But we’re keeping it to ourselves. :) We chose not to know with Mac, so we thought we’d have one of each kind of experience. It’s been so fun to have this little secret. We’ll share both gender and the name we’ve chosen when the baby is here!
That’s Jordan’s man thumb, not mine. Just needed to make that clear.
Total weight gain and body changes: Your girl has a LOT to say about this.
I’ve definitely 20+ pounds. I honestly have no idea. I don’t look at the scale at the doctor’s office because I don’t really believe in knowing unless there’s a problem.
My body is completely different this go-round. With Mac, I carried all my baby bump in the front. This baby is spreading out and taking up all the real estate possible, so my entire torso, both width-wise and front-to-back is full. Of. BABY. My legs are much bigger, my face is much fuller, and that definitely poses a threat to my confidence on some days.
HOWEVER,
I’ll tell you this: bodies are amazing things. Everyone is different, looks different, gains and loses weight at a different rate. It’s a tricky thing to talk about because it’s such a sensitive subject for women generally, since most of us already have self-image issues prior to carrying a human life. It’s especially interesting in this culture of the “postpartum snap-back,” which lifestyle bloggers seem endlessly fascinated with publicizing. And while I want to “You go, girl!” anyone’s self-confidence in posting photos of themselves in a crop top 11 weeks after giving birth, I also feel like it’s super important to talk about the fact that pregnancy is not a competition. It was not made for Instagram, it was made for procreation. There are lots of unglamorous parts of this ball game and the slower recovery many women have to feeling like themselves again. I was lucky to lose a lot of my baby weight breastfeeding, but I could be a completely different recovery this time around, and that’s okay!
Alllll of that to say,
I don’t hold any judgments about how much weight people gain during pregnancy, or how long it takes people to fit back into their pre-pregnancy pants. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter unless there’s a health concern. It’s nobody’s business but yours and your healthcare provider’s! Unless, of course, you want to put on a public blog how much you’ve gained. Like I clearly do. It’s not a contest. Live your life, eat your truth, gain your weight, or don’t. Whatever.
This is pure #secondchild-ness because this is a…lovely shot. I mean really. Just quality. And yet, it’s one of the only even semi-full-length photos from the last SEVEN MONTHS that I have!
Favorite moments of the pregnancy so far: Like I said, since we didn’t find out the gender with Mac, finding out and telling our families has been SO FUN. Getting Mac to understand that there’s a “little baby” in my belly as opposed to our “big boy” (him!) has been so sweet. I remember one specific moment when I was reading a book to Mac, who was sitting in my lap, and the new baby started kicking. So sweet! Although I will say - there’s not nearly as much time to document, enjoy, and rest when you have another child to chase after.
Food cravings: First trimester, it was anything beige. Truly. I would eat bagels, potatoes, cereal out of the box...that was all that sounded good and all I could stomach! Now I’m eating ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING, honey. I’ve never been a big meat-eater, so that’s still true, but if it’s in front of me? It won’t be for long.
How we told our families: This time around, my favorite thing has been how casual everything has been. Don’t get me wrong - I live for a “big moment” and a surprise - but telling Jordan, my parents, and his parents was so fun, and part of why it was fun is because it was so simple. That’s also why I waited until much later to share on Instagram or Facebook - it was fun to have a secret to ourselves, just telling the people in our very close circle of friends or people we see every day. The old-fashioned way!
Full disclosure: right after I found out, I experienced some feelings of grief. I felt a wave of sadness pass over me that my special time with just Mac was drawing to a close! That may seem unusual to read, but I wanted to share it just in case anyone else had experienced it. You’re not alone! Eventually, the more I talked about it and further along I got, I developed a lot of excitement. But it definitely took a few weeks to sink in because I love my boy and I had to do a little mourning of this “just the two of us” phase coming to a close.
Telling Jordan: I found out very unexpectedly, taking a “just to be safe” pregnancy test before I left for an all-girls trip to Chicago. I was shocked to discover that I was pregnant, which, as you can imagine, drastically changed the nature of that trip - ha! When Jordan got home that evening, he was walking around our backyard, dreaming up landscaping ideas. I told him he’d better make sure the fence was enclosed for Mac and his little brother or sister, who’d be arriving in the spring. He, like me, was dumbstruck, but SO happy.
Telling our parents: While I was in Chicago, Jordan’s parents came up to visit and help with Mac, so Jordan told them then! This is a cute clip (just the audio) of them finding out - I made him record the audio and send it to me.
A week after we found out, we went to Bend, Oregon with my family for our annual family vacation. We told my parents at their house (where we spent the night before the trip) - Mom asked if I wanted a cocktail and I said, “I’d better not, since I’m pregnant.” It is one of the great joys of my life to watch my mother be both caught off guard and overwhelmed with excitement. Parker and Emily got told in the airport, boarding a plane! Cazzzzzual. I have no documentation of any of that because…well, airport. And #secondchild.
All in all, it’s been a crazy experience. The hormones, the yucky first trimester, and chasing after a 2-year-old have definitely made it a different ride than last time and have given me massive empathy for women whose pregnancies are all unpleasant or even largely unpleasant. But second trimester has me feeling GREAT, and if this keeps up, I’ll be a happy camper trotting into the hospital in April!
Will probably share one more pre-birth update on the blog, just as a last gasp of this pregnancy. I didn’t really intend to write about it, but the more I thought about it, the more I loved having this platform to share. So why not?
Yahoo, baby number two!
Deep breath, and here we go!
It started in early April when I was having a conversation with my husband, Jordan, and his parents about vaccines. Our son is about 18 months, and Jordan’s sister has a 6-month-old. We were discussing the measles outbreaks all over the country, and kept asking ourselves, “Why wouldn’t people just get vaccinated?
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Before we go on, I want to say two things plainly and up front.
The first is that I am not a doctor or medical professional of any kind. I am an English and Religious Studies major from a small, liberal arts college in Alabama. The information reflected in this post is a result of my own reading, conversations, and research as a lay person, seeking information and answers to be better informed in my conversations around this issue.
The second is that I am pro-vaccination. I was before diving into this topic for my blog, and my research has only caused me to double down on that stance. My child has received all the vaccines available to him at this age, and I do not agree with or support the choice not to vaccinate unless specifically advised not to do so by a pediatrician because of life-threatening risk factors.
When I originally began kicking the idea for this post around, it was over a month ago. I thought I’d spend two weeks on it, but one conversation has led to another, which has led to e-mails back and forth with award-winning epidemiologists, moms who’ve chosen not to vaccinate, and vaccine experts. I have read and listened to so much - so many hours of work writing, reading, and learning - but what I’ve been exposed to is ultimately a tiny drop in the bucket of the loads of information out there to consume.
To be totally candid, one of the reasons I’ve spent so long working on this post because I’ve been trying to strike exactly the right, reverent chord of stating my opinions and the opinions of medical professionals, while still respecting the women who were kind enough to help me understand the reasons they chose not to vaccinate their children. The doctors I interviewed implored me not to be overly sympathetic to the anti-vaccination movement; the women I spoke to who didn’t vaccinate urged me to make sure I was doing my own research. It has been overwhelming, and so the best I can do here is relay the facts, as plainly as possible, and with the context I feel is important in understanding them.
What this month+ of reading, research, podcasts, and trading e-mails with new friends and with doctors has reinforced to me is that this is a very complicated issue.
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In an effort to actually get a conclusive answer to my “Why not just get vaccinated?” question, I posed it to my Instagram followers. Because of some partnerships I’ve done, I have a few hundred followers I don’t know personally, and I knew I’d have a broad spectrum of young moms with differing opinions. I asked them to Direct Message me if they had chosen not to vaccinate their children. I expected one or two replies and wound up with a little over a dozen.
Two women in particular offered themselves as guides through the mindsets of parents who choose not to vaccinate their kids. I took them up on their offers, and wound up with loads of information they provided to me in the way of explaining their rationale. There were tables, articles, and counterarguments to popular scientific theories. They poured so much effort and compassion into helping me get a clear window into their minds.
As I delved into the resources they sent, it became clear that lots of it was hyper-specific and in-depth. I decided I needed someone who knew more about this than I did to help walk me through the various anti-vaccination arguments.
Through some friends, I was able to hook up with two epidemiologists, one of whom is an MD/PhD and the other of whom is a PhD. I won't mention them by name here to avoid any unwanted attention, but both women teach at major universities and have published very well-known papers, made discoveries, and are considered top-tier experts in their fields. For the sake of this post, we'll call them Dr. Brown and Dr. Jones. I synthesized the basic arguments from my new friends and sent them to Dr. Brown (MD/PhD) first, then Dr. Jones (PhD) a few weeks later. They were both kind enough to reply with articles, data points, and research of their own.
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When I polled Instagram that day, I’ll admit: I did so with a very particular preconception in mind. The only people I’d ever met or heard about in the “anti-vaxx” community seemed to be willfully ignoring important data. I didn’t have much sympathy or empathy for them because I felt they were putting people at large (and now my child specifically) at risk.
Since polling my Instagram followers a few weeks ago, I have learned so much. As is usually the case when I have a strong (if uninformed) opinion about a group of people, getting to know parents of unvaccinated kids personally has softened my heart enormously.
The truth is that these parents love their children. They are nurturing, kind people, two of whom went to great lengths to type out pages and pages of their rationale for not vaccinating. Putting a human face on something that was simply an “issue” before has helped me so much in beginning to understand how people arrive at the conclusion not to vaccinate. It’s easy to call a point of view ignorant when you don’t actually know anyone in that camp; I am very appreciative of the moms who took time out to respond to me. These women are college-educated - certainly not ignorant, as is a popular refrain from the pro-vaccination camp - and have made this choice with that they feel is the best possible information that they can find. It’s very important to me that this post offers a kinder view of people with this opinion. I don’t think they’re right, but in all the cases I’ve encountered, they’re also trying their dead-level best to protect their kids. Like every issue, just because I disagree with someone doesn’t mean I have to demonize them.
And we don’t agree. In fact, we almost categorically disagree. But I have relished the opportunities they each provided: a chance to have respectful, intelligent conversation across lines of difference, especially with fellow women.
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Having said all that, let’s dive into the data. I hope you’re ready to nerd out.
Mistrust of government.
Mistrust of the medical community.
Mistrust of Big Pharma.
Fear of vaccine injury or overwhelming a child’s immune system.
Fear of autism caused by vaccines.
Lack of clarity about ingredients, AKA the “heavy metals” argument.
Ethical issues over “aborted fetal cells” being included in vaccine content.
Believing that natural is best, and that the body can fight off illnesses on its own.
Belief in information dispensed by groups like Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s Children's Health Defense.
Concerns about vaccine shedding, herd immunity, and lack of adult vaccination.
Mistrust of the government. It’s hard to argue against a feeling, but Dr. Peter Hotez (MD, PhD, and vaccine expert) made a great point in a podcast where I heard him interviewed: “You don’t have to trust the current administration or any of its policies to believe that vaccines are effective and important. Plenty of people who don’t work for the government promote the benefits of vaccines.” The doctors I spoke to for this post are not affiliated with the government. Although it’s possible that they’ve taken advantage of government grant programs I’m not aware of, they both work for private organizations. (Dr. Hotez also works for a private organization: Baylor College of Medicine.)
Mistrust of the medical community. Any parent of a new baby has grappled with the thousands of decisions, both large and small, that come as a part of caring for a newborn. If the first time you hear about vaccines and their benefits is in the first appointment with your 2-week-old when your #1, hyper-vigilant concern is keeping them from harm, the idea of injecting them with live viruses could seem daunting and frightening. I don’t share this concern, but I can empathize deeply. There often simply isn’t enough time in those first appointments to have the types of long, careful conversations needed to satiate the minds of fearful new parents.
Mistrust of Big Pharma. Another great quote here from Dr. Hotez: “One of the things that anti-vaxxers say to pro-vaccination advocates is that they’re being ‘propped up’ by Big Pharma.” For this reason, I specifically chose to listen to or speak with doctors or epidemiologists who have no association to the pharmaceutical industry to my knowledge. Like the government point above, these people aren’t being compensated by the pharmaceutical industry for advocating for vaccines. HOWEVER - it is 100% understandable that people would be suspicious of Big Pharma in the midst of the opioid crisis happening in this country. To those people, I’d say: It’s possible to condemn the over-peddling of painkillers while still acknowledging the benefits of vaccines.
Vaccine injury/adverse reactions. The term “vaccine injury” refers to extreme shoulder injury, encephalitis, and other serious consequences as defined by the National Vaccine Compensation Act. Soreness at the injection site and even a fever for up to 24 hours are perfectly normal as a vaccine stimulates your immune system.
Vaccine injury is extremely rare. According to the Health Resources and Services Administration (HRSA), here are the numbers:
Between 2006 and 2017, 3.4 billion doses of vaccines were given in the United States.
Out of those 3.4 billion doses, 4,328 people brought cases of vaccine injury before the court and received compensation.
The HRSA is careful to say, though, that around 70% of those cases were not, in fact, paid out because the court concluded that vaccine injury had taken place. Rather, because the court and the client reached a settlement. (You’ll often hear the number of $4 billion being referenced as the amount of money that has been paid out by the vaccine court; this context is helpful in understanding that that number does not represent anything about the validity of the cases or verdicts.)
That means out of 3.4 billion doses, 1,299 led to vaccine courts compensating families.
Another important point to consider: it’s impossible to say how many of those cases were caused by an unidentified and underlying immune deficiency. Roughly, the odds are 1 in 1 million that you will experience vaccine injury. For context, the chances of being struck by lightning are 1 in 700,000. So - yes. There is a risk in getting vaccinated. But it’s very, very small. For further interesting reading, the New York Times just published a piece on this topic.
Overwhelming a child’s immune system. This was a really interesting and important set of facts that I came to understand. Babies are exposed to hundreds of antigens from the second they’re born, which means they’re perfectly capable of handling the immune response triggered by vaccine antigens. However, a child’s immune system is NOT strong enough to withstand an infectious disease, which is why they’re vaccinated so early for things like measles. For a deeper understanding of how scientists have combined vaccines to make them more effective and even safer, this article is a great read.
Fear of autism caused by vaccines. The idea that the MMR vaccine (or any other vaccine) causes autism has been definitively and roundly debunked. Andrew Wakefield, the former MD who alleged that there was a link between vaccines and autism, has been stripped of his medical license and the study he published has been discredited for a number of reasons (both scientific and ethical). Interestingly, Andrew Wakefield is also the person who directed and starred in the popular anti-vaxx documentary, Vaxxed. (The not-so-subtle subtext I’m trying to get across here is that Vaxxed was created by a man who’s had his medical license revoked, so the material in it is questionable.)
Lack of clarity about ingredients; concerns about “heavy metals” or aluminum. The most helpful piece I found here is this great article that breaks down exactly what’s in a vaccine and how vaccines are made. I won’t even try to paraphrase it here - she says it best.
For parents concerned about thimerosal, From Dr. Jones: “Some vaccines did contain thimerosal, a mercury salt, but that's like saying that table salt = chlorine gas. Basic chemistry demonstrates that compounds have different properties than the elements from which they come. And thimerosal was removed from childhood vaccines almost a generation ago. It is present in some multi-dose flu vaccines but one can ask for those to be thimerosal-free, and it has never been demonstrated to have caused any harm. Aluminum is not a heavy metal, and again, is in the form of salts and not metallic aluminum in vaccines.”
From Dr. Brown: “Aluminum is not a heavy metal. Aluminum is used in vaccines as an adjuvant – meaning a substance that is added to vaccines that stimulates a stronger immune response. There is no aluminum in any live vaccines, including MMR. Aluminum is naturally present in the environment. There is normally a very small amount of aluminum in (the) human body. The amount used in vaccines is so small that it does not make an impact on the total.”
From Dr. Hotez, when asked, “What’s in a vaccine?”: “Liquid, like saline or saltwater plus antigens.”
Ethical issues about aborted fetal cells being used:
From Dr. Brown: “No, there are no fetal cells in the vaccines. Viruses require human cells to grow in the lab, and some grow better in fetal cells. Also, fetal cells divide well, which means that they can be preserved long term to grow the vaccine virus – because every batch you make you need to make it the same way. The original fetal cells which were used in vaccine development came from elective pregnancy terminations. These cells have resulted in medical products that have saved the lives of millions of people.”
From Dr. Jones: “Many viruses can only be grown in human cells, so fetal cells are the best way to grow these. The cells are removed during processing--think of it like the dirt in which we grow carrots or potatoes. Even religious bodies have demonstrated that they are fine with these types of cells, though of course would prefer an alternative (that does not currently exist).”
In response to information cited by RFK Jr. and Children’s Health Defense, particularly the data about “wild measles” being preferable to the MMR vaccine:
From Dr. Jones: “There is just no evidence to support what he claims. We know wild measles is associated with deaths in around 1-2 per 1000, encephalitis, pneumonia, and years of immune amnesia, not to mention the chance of SSPE which is universally fatal and horrific. Yes, there was a clinical trial that showed measles eliminated cancer in *one patient*--but they gave her a megadose of a *genetically-modified measles vaccine*, not the wild virus. There also is one epidemiological study that suggested fevers from measles is protective against later cancers but it's pretty poorly done and doesn't have other support (it has not been repeated or supported by other investigators).”
Vaccine shedding and questions about herd immunity.
The concept of vaccine shedding simply means that for a few days after a person receives a vaccine, they threaten to expose immunocompromised people around them to the diseases for which they were vaccinated. In the end, this concept is one that doesn’t hold water. This article was recommended to me by Dr. Jones and does a great job of addressing that concern, even including a tweet from Johns Hopkins stating specifically that it’s okay for recently vaccinated children to visit immunocompromised patients in their hospital.
Herd immunity is a simple enough concept: vaccinated people (or people who have naturally encountered and survived a germ or disease) protect immunocompromised people from contracting a particular disease. It’s important for exactly that reason - there are lots of people who are vulnerable. (think: children who are too young, chronically ill people, and people who can’t be vaccinated for a specific medical reason) and rely on the rest of us to vaccinate ourselves in order to protest them.
For herd immunity to be effective, a certain percentage of the population has to be vaccinated against or immune to a disease (and it’s different for every disease - measles, for example, requires 92-95% of the population to be immune to keep from spreading. An important note here is that an outbreak can still occur, but it can’t spread if effective herd immunity is in play.) Obviously, in many cases in the U.S., there’s low herd immunity because so many unvaccinated people have contracted measles. Here’s a great piece on Mental Floss that does a deep-dive into the hard math behind how herd immunity works, how diseases spread and at what rate, and why diseases seem to “favor” children.
The TLDR version of this is: vaccine shedding does not pose a threat to the immunocompromised; herd immunity effectively prevents immunocompromised people from contracting contagious and potentially fatal diseases.
The anti-vaccination lobby is extremely powerful, and has done a truly remarkable job of making it a challenge to find clear, scientific data about vaccines online. I am now quite clear on why so many people have deeply held opinions that they feel are based in science, but are actually based on misinformation.
The anti-vaccination lobby is also a bit of a mystery. I still have big questions: who’s backing it? Where is all the money coming from? What’s the ultimate goal?
There are some things that are black and white - easy to understand and digest. For example: vaccines do not cause autism. Full stop.
There are other pieces of the puzzle that take a lot of digging to understand. For example: the truth behind vaccine injury and whether the number $4 billion in payouts is accurate. It’s frustrating to me that this information is so misrepresented and has confused or misled so many people. It shouldn’t take hours of reading to figure out the truth.
I understand that time is always pressed at the doctor’s office, but I would love it if it was possible for vaccine education to begin as early as prenatal visits. The pressure parents feel at the pediatrician to just say, “Okay - whatever you think is best!” is heavy, especially for first-time parents. Having the space to talk through and ask any questions you might have is essential to eliminating misinformation and fear around vaccinations, and I think that’s a huge area for growth in our system. (A caveat here that I love our pediatrician, who always gives us time to ask questions. Shout out to Dr. Templeton!)
I understand why people are suspicious of Big Pharma. No need to elaborate. It just makes sense to me.
It is not only unkind, but unhelpful to assume that people who choose not to vaccinate are ignorant about risks, research, or data. At least in the conversations I’ve had, these parents are dutiful, involved, and extremely caring. If you’re curious or concerned, opening up a conversation can be helpful and informative for everyone.
Okay, folks. That’s it. I ask for your grace and understanding in reading and processing all this, welcome your questions, and am grateful for your time. Hopefully you’re leaving this post with a few more tools in your belt so that you can engage one another in conversation about this stuff. It’s been a fascinating journey for me.
Over and out.
Here’s to the mothers.
Here’s to the mothers that always wanted to be mothers. Who wanted, planned for, and had children they loved more than themselves. Mothers like mine who put their children before themselves in every conceivable way. The full-of-joy mothers. The light-up-when-you-walk-in-the-room mothers.
Here’s to the mothers who had motherhood thrust upon them before they were ready for it. Who gave it their all anyway. Who grew up with their children.
Here’s to women who chose not to be mothers. To knowing it just wasn’t for them. To the ones who stand proudly in that choice, and who love their lives just the way they are.
Here’s to women who wanted children but couldn’t or didn’t have them, for one reason or another. Here’s to honoring the heartache of what could have been, and to celebrating what is.
Here’s to women who are still thinking it over, this whole “motherhood” thing. Here’s to the scared shitless among us, because they are right to be scared. They are smart to be scared. Scared is a perfectly appropriate emotion when it comes to raising another human being from the ground up. Here’s to their futures, whatever it is they decide. They’re enough on their own either way.
Here’s to the women who just had a miscarriage. The women who choke back their emotion when the well-meaning morons asks if they’re ever going to start a family. Here’s to women struggling with infertility and smiling through every friend’s baby shower. Here’s to the silent sobs in the bathroom from a deep soul twisted-up ache and a desperation it seems no one else has ever known. Here’s to wondering if you’re alone. Here’s to knowing you aren’t.
Here’s to the women who’ve lost themselves in their children. Who wake up and wonder where they’ve gone; who ask, “Where did you last see me? Maybe I’m there.” Here’s to retracing their steps; to their identities still sitting very patiently inside their hearts, waiting to be called forth again. Here’s to that day, whenever it arrives, and here’s to the season they’re living in instead. It’s just a season, after all. Another one always seems to come.
Here’s to the monotony of motherhood. The same books, the same songs, the same questions and answers. Here’s to the unthanked and unnoticed, the taken advantage of, the worn the hell out.
Here’s to the tired moms. Here’s to the moms of small children - children don’t know better, and take what they give and give. Here’s to the moms of big children - children who should know better, but still take a lot. Here’s to asleep in 90 seconds. Here’s to waking up like someone shot a gun by your ear, covered in drool and wondering what day it is and which child is crying already. Here’s to laughing at the concept of “me time.” To moms who go to work, then come home and work some more. To moms who stay home. To everything in between. To laughing over drinks with the other tired and worn outs.
Here’s to the guilt. The walking out the door to work guilt, the going on a date guilt, the spending the night without kids guilt. Here’s to the anxiety that every choice could be THE CHOICE and every sport could be THE SPORT and the what if’s? and the night sweats and the terrors and the elephants on our chests. Here’s to comparing your worst moments to the best of everyone else. Here’s to unlearning that habit.
Here’s to feeling great about taking a night off. Here’s to we’re still people and we can pour into ourselves. Here’s to putting on your own oxygen mask on first.
Here’s to strength we didn’t know we had. To looking back a time in our lives and wondering how the hell we ever did that. To not having time to wonder how we were doing it while we were doing it. To just DOING it.
Here’s to the women who aren’t our mothers but might as well be. To the women who feel like home. To the deep knowing that comes with putting out your hands and saying, “Give that to me - I can bear that for you.” Here’s to the women who have taught us how to be us. Here’s to the missing puzzle piece found in them.
Here’s to the women for whom Mother’s Day feels like a knife to the ribs. Here’s to the ones with complicated mothers who feel like they’ll never get untangled; who trip over roots that have sprung forth from the seeds of doubt their mothers have sewn in them. Here’s to unwinding the yarn ball and realizing the truth: mothers are just people, and sometimes they screw it up pretty badly. Here’s to living without resentment. Here’s to the cycle stopping with you.
Here’s to our mothers who have gone on without us - to the benign betrayal of death. Here’s to the community of saints and the clouds of witnesses. Here’s to wondering what your mother would say. Here’s to wishing she could see this. To “gone but not forgotten.” And maybe, really, never gone at all.
Here’s to the power and the magic of women in all our forms. To getting older and understanding with each year that women are the spark that keeps the fire alive. To the ways we carry the men and the children in our lives. To the ways we carry each other.
To the million layer cake that is women on earth, who dream and can and do. To the twinkle in our eyes. To straightening our backs and setting our faces toward joy - not because it’s easy, but because it’s right. To ice in our veins and warmth in our smiles. To nerves of steel. To hearts bursting forth with love.
To us. Boy, do I love us all.
Cheers!
Mac and I go to story time at our local library each week, and there are a huge range of parents and children there.
You’ve got your breastfeeding-until-the-age-of-5 kids and their mamas. These joyful women are perfectly content to whip out a boob in the middle of “Open Them, Shut Them.” More power to ‘em.
You’ve got the dad who brought the kids and is panicking because he has no idea what the hell he’s doing
You’ve got stay-at-home dad who has a total grip on parenting andis, as only stay at home dads can, ripping the top off a squeeze-y fruit thing with his teeth while also holding his kid by the collar of his shirt so he won’t escape.
But the one that always gets me is Perfect Mom.
Perfect Mom is there in leggings that look like they’ve just come out fresh from the laundry (AKA, un-stained and lint free) and cute tennis shoes. Her children have, and I am not exaggerating, EVERY hair in place. Adorable pigtails or brushed straight down, in coordinated and also somehow deeply stylish outfits. Perfect Mom’s little girl has cuter clothes than I do. Perfect Mom’s children are well-behaved; involved at the right times and subservient and docile at others.
I find myself resenting Perfect Mom. Even when Mac is dressed in his best and I’m feeling pretty cute myself, my confidence is deflated like a big balloon upon seeing her come into the room. She is the silver bullet to my good day. And if I’m struggling, dragging in with a son his in his laundry day mismatched clothes and my unwashed hair? Even worse.
There are any number of think pieces online to make me feel better about myself when comparing my own parenting to Perfect Mom. They’re called something along the lines of, “An Open Letter To A New Mom: Embrace Your Filthy Children, Leave The Dishes in the Sink, Be In the Moment, and Roll Around in the Floor With Them, Quick, Before They Go To College! YOLO!”
But something about the way we’ve all leaned into reassuring each other that messy is okay (because it is) has overcorrected the sentiment to the point that we’re almost demonizing people who appear to have it together. And that’s not great, either.
That’s the thing about parenting in the Internet Age. We all have these sparkly, incredible, remember-it-for-the-rest-of-your-life moments. And we all have moments where we’re pulled over on the side of the interstate with our child’s explosive poop diaper in our hands, having had to take off our own shorts because those, too, are covered in poop, and wear a swaddle as a sarong for the rest of the road trip. Just…you know. For example.
But - what if we were just as eager to jump on board to celebrate the pretty moments as we were to commiserate in the filthy ones? I am always ready to throw my arms around the “relatable” or “real” or “unfiltered” moments (because sometimes it seems we get so few of them, especially on Instagram), but what if I challenged myself by embracing people’s Pinterest-perfection with an equal amount of love and enthusiasm? Because you know how hard it was to throw that birthday party your friend with a 2-year-old just Instagrammed? Even if it was a small one? REAL HARD. Holy shit, who knew how hard?! It’s a CHILD’S BIRTHDAY. A million moving parts.
When I see a photo of a child roughly my son’s age in a perfectly curated monogrammed outfit, I feel a pang of guilt or jealousy - ESPECIALLY if I’m seeing that photo whilst sitting across from my own booger-covered one year old, in a diaper, who’s recently slung banana onto the wall behind his high chair and is looking at me as if to say, “Yeah, so?” Again, just for example.
On the flip side, when I post a photo of Mac looking put together and recently bathed, I want everyone to see and celebrate how freaking cute he is. LAUD HIM, PEOPLE OF INSTAGRAM!
I liken it to this: when I’m the driving, I hate pedestrians.
When I’m crossing on foot, I hate the drivers.
I want everyone to be with me wherever I am any given moment. Because if everyone is with me, that means I don’t have to compare. That means I can’t be wrong. And that’s the real, get-to-the-root-of-the-problem truth: if everyone’s on my team, there’s no judgment either way.
There’s no reason that someone trying hard to polish up their kids and displaying something they worked hard for and feel proud of should make us feel bad about ourselves (she said to herself in the mirror). Working through those twinges of inadequacy is something might take me a lifetime, but something I also suspect might make me a better mom.
So here’s my promise to you (you, too, Perfect Mom): I’ll celebrate the moments you want to put on Instagram without snark, and tell you I’ve been there in your messiest (because I either have or will soon). If I see you looking great with your beautiful children, I will beam you invisible rays of congratulations instead of using your put-together-ness as an indictment of my own mess. Everybody’s doing their best, right? Whatever state you and your kids are in at any given moment, you’ve got me on your team (unless you are an anti-vaxxer, in which case, stay tuned for my blog post on vaccinations coming up in a couple weeks).
Comparison as parents threatens to tear us apart, throwing up walls and creating tiers of excellence where there are none. We’re all striving in this together.
Let’s keep rooting for each other, on all our days, perfect and otherwise.