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Tuesday, February 23, 2010

"The Rule of 10"

Oh this is such a great article from Midwifery Today Magazine!! I've read it before a couple of years ago when it was originally published, but I so wish I had had a chance to read it again before going into labour myself 2 weeks ago!!!

In this article by Lydi Owen "The Rule of 10- versus women's primal wisdom" She talks about the history of the golden 10 centimetres that the Obstetrical community worships. Yet another example of ridiculous rules and absolute "Truths" that the medical machine invented way back in the 50's when they thought their doctors were omnipotent and could completely control childbirth. One of the many "Rules of Birthing" that they invented that still haunts most obstetrical wards to this day: That a woman MUST be fully dilated to 10 cm's before being allowed to push, other wise there will be horrifying outcomes.....

There is a rule of labor that forbids a woman to push with contractions until her cervix is completely dilated to 10 cm. Women are warned that to push before this doorway is completely open and out of the way will result in a swollen and/or torn cervix.

What will supposedly happen if the cervix swells?

Doctors, nurses, midwives, doulas and childbirth educators all warn that a swollen cervix will impede labor and increase the chances of tearing the cervix, thus causing hemorrhage. They have been taught that a swollen cervix is easily broken or pulverized. If this is indeed the truth, then why do most women during labor have an irresistible urge to begin bearing down before dilation is complete?

Could it be that the instinctual wisdom of our bodies has become our enemy? Is Spirit trying to destroy us instead of guiding us? Why would we feel the need to begin bearing down at 5–6 cm (or sooner) if it would shatter the gateway to the baby’s outer world? ...

...How did this “Rule of Ten” come about?

In 1951 doctors Greenhill and DeLee wrote “During the first stage of labor no abdominal pushing is allowed because the cervix will tear.”(2)

We can safely assume that the women being studied by Greenhill and DeLee were under the influence of drugs, because in the mid-20th century the orgy of drug interference during labor and birth was at its height of glory. Almost no women were informed enough to withstand the onslaught of drugs given to them during birth in the hospital. Unfortunately, the situation has not changed in the sixty years since.

Therefore, these doctors were scientifically incorrect in concluding that the “Rule of Ten” was valid, without simultaneously observing a control group of drug-free laboring women in the upright position (as opposed to being drugged and lying down in beds).

HERE to read the entire article from Midwifery Today
Just two weeks ago when I was labouring to birth my youngest son Kael, I encountered this "Rule of 10", and had to struggle through it alone, as no one would listen to my plea's of "I have to push!!". I was at 8 cm and getting Tsk Tsk Tsk from the on call Obstetrician - after being lectured about my inflamed cervix and the fears of my uterus rupturing, and being told NOT to push no matter what my him, the nurses and my midwives.... well, you listen, right? They are the professionals, right? So I went against my instinctual urge and panted and did what ever I could to NOT push.... But when the urge became a primal force that could not be ignored, I was incapable of NOT pushing...

...and low and behold, my son's head descended through my "inflamed and swollen" cervix with no trouble what so ever.

I managed to beat the odds and have my VBA3C birth. I managed to do this without the whole hearted support of the medical personnel who were present at Kael's birth. BUT..... how much easier would his birth have been if they had allowed me the freedom to push as my body instinctually wanted, if they had allowed me to be the guide to my birthing, trusting that as the birthing mother I KNEW what to do- that my body knew exactly what to do. If they had allowed me that logical freedom, I wouldn't have had the epidural that almost ruined everything. I would have pushed how I wanted, when I wanted, and I would have been the one in control, instead of the one being controlled.

...If Wishes were Fishes, right?

Please read the article- please tell everyone you know about it- talk to your midwives and doctors about it!! It is only when women take back control of their bodies and their births that we can make permanent changes to how the field of Obstetrics treats women, and make hospitals set up their policies to enable women, instead of disabling them.

You are woman. Let them hear you roar!

Who do you trust?

In the news this week: A Doctor accused of falsifying medical research and being paid off by Big Pharma. Dr. Scott Reuben, was accused of faking medical research studies, including many that were published in medical journals, has been charged with health care fraud Thursday in federal court. This so called medical professional accepted money from mega-pharmaceutical giants Pfizer and Merck to do "Studies" on some of their major medications (Celebrex, Vioxx, Bextra), yet not one of these studies was actually done- not one patient was enrolled in any study.

"He's accused of accepting a $75,000 grant from Pfizer to research the effectiveness of the pain medication Celebrex for a 2005 study, the Day reports.

His research, which the Day reports was pioneering at the the time, indicated that there are post-surgery benefits from painkillers. But no patients were actually enrolled in the study, according to a U.S. Department of Justice news release.

The Wall Street Journal reports that he also falsified information about Pfizer's Bextra and on Merck's Vioxx.
“Anesthesia & Analgesia” had to retract 10 papers Reuben wrote and medical experts say at least 21 journal articles by the anesthesiologist appear to be fabricated, the Day reports.
Reuben was the chief of acute pain at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield, Massachusetts, and The Day reports that the hospital let him go last March, after an audit revealed he had been inventing data for as many as 13 years."


...Still believe what you read?

While the medical community is tsk tsking this incident, it begs the question: If this doctor was able to get away with this fraudulent activity for 13 years, who else is writing themselves their own retirement fund? Only an ostrich would believe that this is a one-off incident.

Writing false articles and making up imaginary studies is not limited to the realm of Big Pharma either. Mega Corporate Giant Nestle has been caught with their hand in the false research cookie jar before as well. Canadian scientist, Dr Ranjit Chandra, created extensive falsified research that was used by Nestlé to promote its infant formulas.
http://www.babymilkaction.org/press/press3feb06.html
http://www.infactcanada.ca/INFACTWinter2006NLfinalcommercial.pdf

The time has come my friends, to really start doing your OWN research into products and claims made by these mega corporations that are only interested in earning a big buck, because apparently dollars and cents mean more to them than the health of their consumers.

Oh What a shock!!!!

HERE to read the entire NBC article

Sunday, February 21, 2010

STFU about NIP!!!!

Woman Uncensored lashes out with her usual panache - cutting to the quick and the core of the argument, wielding her barbed sarcasm like a master swordswoman, slicing through the bullshit with an expert flick of the keyboard. I LOVE this blog!!!!

*Insert Standing Ovation HERE*


STFU about NIP

(NIP=Nursing in public. I'll let you figure out what STFU means on your own)



I don't get to tell this guy that he's grossing me out and needs to go home


I think his butt is hungry.

I don't get to tell this lady that the sight of her could scar my children for life.

If she bends over... I don't think I'm ready for that jelly.

I don't get to tell this piece of work that he's showing too much skin.


"I've had this shirt since I was 14 and it still fits!"


I have to see T&A galore on girls walking down the street, TV, magazines, movies, online, EVERYWHERE. I don't get to toss a blanket over any of them.




Now THAT is a lot of boobage. Did someone use her cleavage as a napkin? Mmmm... greasy!


She may be at the beach here, but we've all seen Britt's butt, beaver, and more in every other public place. Heaven help us.


I may not be able to ask these folks to you know, wear clothes that fit, and I may not be able to bleach my eyes... but I do, however, have the ability to avert my eyes and go on with my life.

There are people EVERYWHERE to whom I would love to say "Please go home, for the love of Pete, you don't belong in public". But I don't have the right, and neither do you. Why can we tolerate several square feet of *whatever* hanging out, but piss ourselves over a centimeter of lactating boob? If I can tolerate standing in line behind the guy that smells like an ashtray, or walking by miss nasty thong & muffin top, or eating near smelly unshowered dude a few tables down, you can sure as hell just STFU about this:
HERE to read the whole wonderfully "in your face" article!!!

Friday, February 19, 2010

A Mothers Victory: My VBA3C Birth Story


“Boobalumba has arrived!”

After three Caesarean sections, I knew I wanted a natural birth for my fifth child. I had written a detailed birth plan describing how I was to be involved and treated during my labour and birth at the hospital, with as little intervention as possible. My plan notwithstanding, this is my story of the very difficult labour and birth of my son on February 8, 2010.

by Danielle Arnold-McKenny


It all started with a week of annoying, stop and start prodromal labour. There really is nothing quite so frustrating as playing the guessing game every time the contractions start. Is this it…this time?! But after a week of lots of contractions and various other questionable symptoms, early evening on Saturday (February 6, 2010) I was pretty certain that we were onto the countdown.

Contractions continued during the night for the first time. Although they slowed right down and became erratic, they kept getting stronger. Sunday morning they slowed to a halt for about three or four hours. When they started up again, it was like being back at square one.

So I kicked my husband Nick and the kids out of the house to go to a friend’s to watch the Super Bowl. Then I set out to do some serious relaxing: filled the living room with candles, put some of my favourite aromatherapy oils in a burner, put on soothing music, got settled into my super comfy rocking chair, and just…R E L A X E D.

Soon enough the contractions became steady at about 8–10 minutes apart. Nick brought the kids home and tucked them into bed late that night, and we called my best friend Lynda over to be with us.

By 3 AM I was definitely in labour. While still only about 6–8 minutes apart, the contractions were strong enough for me to need to support myself and focus on breathing through them—rocking and swaying. We called our midwife, to put her on alert that the party was definitely on. By 5 AM the contractions were still 6 minutes apart but very strong. I had to decide what to do next.

I knew that the kids would be waking up soon and really didn’t think I could deal with my labour and them. So I made the decision for us to head off to the hospital. It was too early—I knew it was—but I was so tired, having not really slept in two nights. I just wanted to know where I was in my labour, to know how far/fast I was progressing.

I think that this is one of the worst things that most labouring women do—worry about the numbers: how many minutes apart, how many centimetres dilated, how many hours of labour…This turns so easily into a downward spiral.

When we arrived at the hospital, we were met by one of our midwives—and so started that downward spiral. She checked me at 6:30 AM. I was only 3 centimetres…3? Just 3 centimetres?!? Oh gods!!! Immediately I became depressed, completely despondent. Three centimetres was exactly where I’d been when I’d gone to the hospital in labour with my youngest daughter Keira, and exactly where I stayed with that labour, which this one had so far exactly mirrored. Keira’s birth ended up being a Caesarean section…

On my midwife’s advice, Nick and I started walking the hospital hallways, to try to “ramp up the contractions,” as she was convinced that I wasn’t in active labour yet—another very disappointing announcement that brought me down even further. How was I supposed to continue like this? In my opinion, my contractions were damn strong, as strong as they were when I was close to transition with Quinlin, my home-birth, vaginal-birth-after-one-Caesarean (VBA1C) baby.

So we walked the halls, stopping to lean on whatever I had available during contractions. We talked and I cried. I was so despondent, and after two nights of almost no sleep, I was completely exhausted. How was I going to make it through this if the contractions were already this strong and I wasn’t even in “active labour”!?!

Nick was a huge support both physically and emotionally. While we walked, we talked: about my fears, about the “options,” both of us knowing what the “option” was…We returned to our room and talked to our midwife about the jumble of emotions, about the labour and my fears. We decided that we would talk to the obstetrician on call. Even then I knew that we were taking the first step down the road to another Caesarean. But I was so caught up in my anxiety and despondency that I had lost hope.

When the doctor arrived finally at around 9 AM, I was desperate for some relief from the contractions. Luckily I had an OB who wasn’t a pusher. Oh, he definitely wanted me to have the C/S, to remove the “risks” of my trial of labour, and to save the staff from the obvious stress of having a VBA3C on their labour & delivery floor. But he suggested that he see how far along in my labour I was before we made the final decision. For this alone, I have much respect for the man, because at that moment I was so vulnerable that he could have pushed me right down to the operating room himself and knocked me out. I wouldn’t have uttered a peep. But instead he checked me over.

I was 8 centimetres!!!!

From down in the valley of emotional despair so dark and heavy that I could barely breathe, I flew up to the top of the tallest mountain of elation!! 8 centimetres?!? I could do this!!!! Nick’s face lit up in what I knew was a mirror expression of my own. Eight centimetres were unimaginable.

“What do you want to do?” the OB asked. “I want to continue to labour!!!” I almost shouted in excitement.

He then started on the litany of risks, and rules I “had to” follow. He suggested that we break my water to help get things moving along. I readily agreed. Hell, if he’d suggested cartwheels while holding a bottle of nitroglycerine, I’d have eagerly agreed with him!

So he quickly broke my membranes. With a huge rush of lovely, clear amniotic fluid, I instantly felt Baby Boobalumba (as we had nick-named him) drop down a bit farther. Continuing with his sermon, the OB warned me that he’d give me one hour to show some progress, and that we would discuss “the options” when he returned.

For 20 minutes or so, the contractions eased off in severity, while coming closer together. I was laughing between contractions and joking with Nick and my midwife. That break was short-lived, though. Very soon transition fell on me like a lead curtain.

Oh, it was bad.

After an hour, the doctor returned and checked me again. Still 8 centimetres. “Tsk tsk tsk” is what I got, and again he started listing the risks and lecturing me on the dangers of having a uterine rupture if I didn’t hurry up and progress. I argued that Boobalumba moving lower was progress. I immediately lost my high regard for him when he began shushing me and telling me off like a naughty child.

Have I mentioned that I don’t take lightly to someone treating me as an inferior being? Hackles were raised, and Nick quickly set about to calm me down. We were given another hour.

Oh gods!!! Contractions were now never-ending waves that carried away any semblance of humanity I had left. The logical Dani was left behind by the primal Dani, who ruled unchecked over the writhing body that had been human just a few hours before.

Occasionally the logical Dani had flashes of insight that penetrated the haze of transition: thoughts of caged mountain lions screaming in rage at their captors; the lone wolf caught in a trap that gnaws its own leg off to try to escape…for I was the trapped animal, trapped by the hospital staff, policies, doctors, and my midwives. I was hooked up to a fetal monitor that inhibited my ability to move. I was suppressed by people telling me where to go and how to position myself, and reminding me of the clock that continued to tick towards the “deadline.”

Some of what happened that I’m about to relay, I learned later from Nick. At this point my chronological memory that was recording the events as they happened became seriously erratic (resulting in gaping holes big enough to drive a truck through).

At some point during my transition to a blubbering mess, my friend Lynda showed up after taking my kids to her parents’ house. Between Lynda and Nick, I had a small bit of calm to cling to. They took turns talking to me, feeding me sips of water, rubbing my back, and helping me be as comfortable as possible.

Then my second hour was up. The OB arrived and announced that I was still just 8 centimetres and my cervix was inflamed.

I begged for relief. The last piece of human Dani was ready to admit defeat. But I managed to beat back the primal contractions and somewhat coherently tell the doctor that if I could just relax for a minute, just have a moment’s respite to regain control of myself…If I’m heading down the hallway to the operating room anyways, then give me the epidural so that we can try just one last time to finish this dilation thingy that you’re all so hyper about!!

Then the human spark slipped away, having said its final piece, and the primal Dani took over again. Nick discussed it all with the doctor. They arranged to get me an epidural, and Nick bargained a further half hour to see if we could achieve the final 2 centimetres that they wanted.

Immediately the room seemed to fill with people. Two maternity nurses bustled in to set up an IV…I remember biting the head off one for even thinking about putting the IV into the back of my hand…my second midwife was there.…the noise levels rose substantially and I felt like I was in a stadium surrounded by overwhelming crowds. I vaguely recollect my midwife checking me again and saying that she thought the cervical lip could be moved…and she did something down there that wasn’t pleasant.

Then they all decided that I needed to be lying down right now. “Take the pressure off the cervix”…“let the swelling go down”…snippets of directions, with me arguing that I didn’t want to lie down. I can’t lie down, I won’t lie down…yet somehow they had me down flat on the bed, taking away the last vestige of control that I had over this three-ring circus.

More people flooded into the room. The anaesthesiologist came with cartloads of paraphernalia. At some point they kicked Lynda out of the room on some flimsy excuse, leaving me with one fewer island of support to cling to.

At this point I remember feeling “the push.” I told “them” that I needed to push, that I felt that pressure, that I needed to poop…and I remember “them” telling me not to push, that it was too early, that I wasn’t fully dilated to the golden 10. They rolled me to my side to get ready for the epidural, hands on me everywhere, voices ordering me to do this and do that, curl into a ball, hold still, don’t move…I tried to follow orders. The small inner voice of logic screamed at the primal me to listen: “Don’t move, you idiot!! That’s a needle in your spine!!!”

All of a sudden my primal self was engulfed by an all-consuming command to push…Out of the confusion of the moment, standing out from the roaring crowds came the scream: “I have to push!!! I have to push!!!!!”

The crowds yelled back at me: “Don’t move!!” “Don’t push!!!”…

What came next is a moment of clarity that I will remember to my last breath. It came so clearly and so powerfully that it is permanently etched into my brain. I pushed. With every fibre of my being. Every muscle, every tendon, every vital organ. I pushed once, then again. And I felt Baby Boobalumba burst through some invisible barrier and move down into my vagina. I felt every contour, every millimetre of his descent.

A primal growling scream rose out of me that was pure energy. I was filled with a sense of exhilaration as endorphins flooded my system. I CAN DO THIS!!!! I CAN BIRTH MY BABY!!!—only to be cut off by grabbing hands and barking orders from the madding and maddening crowds…“Stop!! Don’t push!! Don’t move!!”

Voices tumbled overtop each other. “Is the baby coming?” “Can you see the head?” “I can see the head!” “Turn her around!” “Lie on your back!” Voices bellowing at me…

The human Dani fought with the primal Dani to take back control. The human Dani knew logically what she needed to do. Knew that she needed to retake control of her body, not just from the primal Dani, but from all of these people who were trying to control her.

I needed to get up. I needed to get off my back and upright. I needed to find my voice and make these people all shut up and listen to me.

Another contraction and another push. This time my midwife cheered me on: “Push!!!!!” and I did, feeling the baby’s head start to crown, the burning that brought with it that all-encompassing need to keep pushing—only to have it all come to a crashing halt. The epidural kicked in, to block all sensation of the contractions.

The voices yelled at me to push, but the urge was simply gone. Along with the realization that my guide had disappeared came the awareness that I couldn’t breathe. “They” kept yelling at me to push, to lie back and grab my legs and pull them back…but I couldn’t find my centre, couldn’t breathe in the air deeply enough to get a full breath, couldn’t feel the contractions to cue me to push…I needed to get up. I had to get up, I tried to tell them to let me up…but they just kept pushing me back down and telling me to grab my legs…

“Tsk tsk tsk we missed another contraction.” “Dani, you have to push, the baby’s head is half way out!!! You have to push!!!”

HELLO?! I’m perfectly aware of exactly where the baby’s head is, thank you very much!!!!

I tried again to tell them that I couldn’t feel the contractions, that I couldn’t breathe…but the crowds drowned me out with their incessant commands and annoying nattering verbal diarrhea.

I reached down and felt the top of my baby’s head, and ran my fingers through the masses of soggy hair. Someone pushed my hand away and forced me to grab the back of my thigh. The human Dani sighed in resignation. They couldn’t hear me, they wouldn’t listen. I had no choice but to do it “their” way. So ignoring the roaring of the masses surrounding me, I breathed in as deeply as I could and P U S H E D.

The relief of his head coming fully out is one that every woman who has given birth can no doubt relate to. Again I reached down. I wanted to birth my baby. I wanted to grasp his slippery body as it came out of me, as we started our journey as two separate beings. I wanted to be the first to hold him. Then someone pushed my hands away again and forced them back to my legs. And so again I pushed as “they” ordered, and Baby Boobalumba was born.

Strange, but as soon as he was delivered onto my belly, the human Dani completely took over. I immediately reminded my midwife not to clamp the umbilical cord, and asked for a warmed blanket to put over both of us.

Once the cord was cut a few minutes later, my midwife asked me to push to deliver the placenta. At that point one of the nurses made a motion to press on my belly. I immediately slapped her hand away and told her No, then told my midwife that I did not want any cord traction applied. As the epidural was now firmly in place and I had no feeling at all, I concentrated on muscle memory and pushed…hard, delivering the placenta in one quick swoosh.

When one of the nurses tried to rub Boobalumba down with a towel, I pushed her away again. After that, no one interfered with me and the baby; no one tried to weigh him or measure him or clean him. They left me alone to be with my baby.

Now that clarity had returned, I could concentrate on him and interact with the people around me as a rational being again. I immediately started asking Nick for details and found out only then that Lynda had been kicked out of the room and he had run out into the hallway as soon as Boobalumba was born to grab her and bring her back in. He also told me that the nurses wouldn’t allow him to take a picture as our son was crowning. That made me so angry.

Oh, I was mad, really mad!!!

But on the surface I was able to enjoy the victory for what it meant to me personally: a validation that I was not broken. Though the birth had not gone even remotely as I had wished, and my birth plan was basically trampled on by galloping hordes, I did it.

Writing this down now, a little over a week later, I am able to verbalize many things that at the moment were just notes stored away for later analysis. The basic need for understanding and support for the VBAC mother. Support and care that are different from what other birthing mothers need.

My personal story is one of vindication of a VBA3C mom. We are not broken. We are perfectly capable of birthing our babies without the surgeon’s knife. My story will, I hope, inspire those that were there—the OB doctor, the labour & delivery nurses, my midwives—to realize that it is possible if only women are given the choice.

I wasn’t given the “choice.” I demanded that they allow it. I didn’t have their support or their understanding. I had to rely solely upon myself and my husband, knowing that if we wavered even for a moment, as we came so close to doing several times, we would be engulfed by the medical machine and processed as yet another number.

Sure, our birth is a number, but a very different and more important one: the first VBA3C in Cambridge Memorial Hospital (Cambridge, Ontario, Canada) and by the Cambridge Midwives Group. I hope that through my experience they will open doors to more VBAC mothers. I hope that my story inspires others to make choices for themselves and to learn from my mistakes and my victories. We can do it. But we have to fight for our rights and continue to fight to make changes so that other women will not have to fight the battle I did.

Vaginal birth OK after several C-sections- Reuters

The word is spreading, even making the main stream media now: Women CAN birth vaginally after 2, 3 or more Caesarean Sections!!!! Now if we can just get the Obstetricians and Hospital policy makers to actually read the study and then change how they think about VBAC births. VBAC's are not a liability. Women wanting to have a VBAC birth are NOT a liability: they are women who are trying to give birth to their babies the way that nature intended. The medical machine needs to realize that they have caused countless years of pain and suffering - both physical and emotional - to women by denying then the right to birth their babies as they want. Birth trauma is very real. Women who've been abused by the hospital system need to heal, and the first step for many of them is being allowed to face their fears and be given the support they need to birth naturally- Vaginally. This I can attest to!!!

Just 11 days ago I gave birth to my youngest son Kael in a historical VBA3C - the first of it's kind at Cambridge Memorial Hospital, and the first for the Cambridge Midwives Group. You can read my story here: http://iinformedparenting.blogspot.com/2010/02/victory-my-vba3c.html

We VBAC moms and dads and families and friends need to make the public and the hospitals aware that there ARE options for those women who've had multiple C/Sections. We need to continue to fight for our rights and stand up to the policy makers and make them realize that they do NOT have the RIGHT to tell us how to birth.

We Are NOT Broken.


Vaginal birth OK after several C-sections


Study reconsiders risks and could change guidelines

updated 2:09 p.m. ET, Thurs., Feb. 18, 2010

Women who attempt vaginal childbirth after having several babies by cesarean section may not have a greater risk of complications than women who've had only one prior C-section, a new study suggests.

At one time, doctors believed that once a woman had a C-section, she would have to have one for all subsequent pregnancies — mainly out of concern that the scar on the uterus could rupture during vaginal childbirth.

That thinking has changed, and vaginal delivery is now considered a safe option for many women who have had a past C-section. Because C-sections also carry risks and downsides — such as blood loss or infection from the procedure, and a longer hospital stay and recovery time — many women may prefer a try at labor.

Still, the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology (ACOG) does not currently recommend vaginal delivery for women who have had three or more C-sections, as their risk of uterine rupture has generally been thought to be higher.

In the new study, however, researchers found that women with at least three prior C-sections showed no increased risk of uterine rupture during vaginal delivery.

In fact, none of the 89 women who opted to try vaginal childbirth had the complication, according to findings published in the British obstetrics journal BJOG.

Based on past research, the expected rate of uterine rupture among women with one prior C-section would be less than 1 percent; a large 2004 study of U.S. women, for example, found a rate of 0.7 percent.

These latest findings suggest it would be "reasonable to reconsider" the current ACOG recommendations for women with three or more prior C-sections, according to lead researcher Dr. Alison G. Cahill of Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis.

In an interview, she noted that next month, the National Institutes of Health is holding a consensus conference on the overall issue of vaginal birth after cesarean. According to the NIH, the conference will look at the scientific evidence on a number of questions -- including the short- and long-term risks and benefits of vaginal delivery versus repeat C-section; an independent panel will then develop a consensus statement on those issues.

For now, Cahill said, it is important for women with a history of three or more C-sections to be aware of the current ACOG recommendation. But, she added, they can also talk with their doctors about the possibility of vaginal birth as an option, as "recommendations can change as new science emerges."

For their study, Cahill and her colleagues reviewed the records of 25,000 women at 17 U.S. hospitals who gave birth after having at least one prior C-section. The group included 860 women with at least three prior C-sections, 89 of whom attempted a vaginal delivery; the remaining 771 elected to have a repeat C-section.

There were no cases of uterine rupture in either group, the researchers found.

The 89 women who chose to try labor also had no instances of bladder or bowel injury, or lacerations of the uterine artery — the other main complications the researchers assessed. That compared with just over 2 percent of the women who had a repeat C-section — though that difference, the researchers say, is not significant in statistical terms.

When it came to successful delivery — meaning the doctor did not have to switch to a C-section during labor — the chances were similar regardless of the number of prior C-sections.

Just over 13,600 women with one or two prior C-sections elected to try vaginal delivery, with a success rate of about 75 percent. That rate was 80 percent among women with a history of three or more C-sections.

Cahill pointed out that all of the women in the study had had C-sections done with what is called a low transverse incision — a horizontal cut across the lowest part of the uterus. These types of incisions have a lower risk of rupture compared with the "classical" high vertical incision, an up-and-down incision made higher on the uterus.

Another factor to consider in the decision to try vaginal delivery after cesarean, according to Cahill, is whether a woman has ever had a previous vaginal birth. Previous vaginal deliveries increase the chances of success with a post-cesarean attempt at vaginal birth.

HERE to read the original article on MSNBC



Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Time: Cutting the Cord too soon

Yet another study showing the benefits of delayed umbilical cord clamping, and the very real dangers of clamping the cord too soon.

Obstetrics: Cutting the Cord Too Soon

Time Mag.

The lungs of most newborn infants begin to work exactly on schedule. But among some babies, particularly the premature, the lungs fail to expand properly. The chest sags, breathing is rapid and the child turns blue. Many deaths during the first week after birth are attributable to this condition, which doctors describe as the "respiratory distress syndrome."

Obstetricians have long noted that babies suffering from such troubles either were delivered by Caesarean section, or were premature infants, or born of diabetic mothers. But in the A.M.A. Journal, a group of pediatricians* from the University of California suggests that the most important factor is the time at which the obstetrician clamps and cuts the infant's umbilical cord.

The California pediatricians base their theory on a study of 129 infants. Among 41 whose umbilical cords were clamped before they took their second breath, 21 showed moderate to severe respiratory distress. In another group of 52 infants whose umbilicals had been clamped some time after the second breath, only six suffered the same symptoms. The condition of the infants who retained their umbilical cords longest was by far the best.

There are sound reasons, say the doctors, for a slowdown in cutting the umbilical cord. Delay allows a gradual change from fetal to regular circulation without putting stress on blood vessels in the lungs and elsewhere in the body. The carefree manner in which the newly born infant is "disconnected" from his mother, concludes the report, "is in sharp contrast to the meticulous care with which the thoracic surgeon separates his patient from the heart-lung machine."

* Drs. Arthur J. Moss, Edward Duffle Jr. and Leonard M. Pagan of Los Angeles.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Victory: My VBA3C

Introducing Kael Lachlan Rodney Arnold-McKenny, Born Monday Feb 8th at 12:21 in the afternoon. 7lb 2oz and about 19 inches long

















Boobalumba Has Arrived!!!

It all started with a week of stop and start annoying prodromal labour. There really is nothing quite so frustrating as playing the guessing game every time the contractions start: is this it..... THIS time!!!? But after a week of lots of contractions and various other questionable symptoms, on Saturday early evening, I was pretty certain that we were definitely on the count down. Contractions continue during the night (for the first time) and although they slowed right down and became irratic, they kept getting stronger. Sunday morning the contractions slowed to a halt for about 3-4 hours, and when they started up again, it was like being back at square one. So I kicked Nick and the kids out of the house to go to a friends to watch the superbowl, and I set out to do some serious Relaxing: filled the living room with candles, put some of my favorite aromatherapy oils in a burner and put on soothing music- got settled into my super comfy rocking chair and just.... R E L A X E D. Soon enough the contractions were steady at about 8-10 minutes apart. Nick brought the kids home and tucked them into bed late that night, and we called my best friend Lynda over to be with us. by 3am I was definitely in labour and the contractions- while still only about 6-8 minutes apart- were strong enough to need to support myself and focus on breathing through them- rocking and swaying . We called our midwife to put her alert that the party was definitly "ON". By 5am the contractions were still 6 minutes apart but very strong and I had to decide what to do next.

I knew that the kids would be waking up soon and I really didn't think I could manage to deal with my labour AND them... So I made the decision for us to head off to the hospital. It was too early, I knew it was, but I was so tired, having not really slept in two nights and I just "Wanted to KNOW" where I was in my labour, to know how far/fast I was progressing. I think that this is one of the worst things that most labouring women do- worry about the Numbers: how many minutes apart. how many cm's dilated. How many hours of labour..... so easily turning into a downward spiral.

We arrived at the hospital and were met by one of our midwives, and so started the above mentioned downward spiral. She checked me at 6:30am and I was only 3 cms.... 3? JUST 3 centimetres?!? Oh gods!!! I was immediately despondent and completely depressed. 3cms is exactly where I was when I'd gone to the hospital in labour with keira...and exactly where I STAYED with my labour with keira (which this labour had so far exactly mirrored) - which ended up in a Caesarean section.

On my midwifes advice, Nick and I started walking the hospital hallways- "to try to ramp up the contractions" as she was convinced that I wasn't actually in active labour yet... another very disappointing announcement that brought me down even further. How was I supose to continue like this? By my opinion, my contractions were Damn strong- as strong as they were when I was close to transition with Quinlin (my VBA1C home birth baby).

.. So we walked the halls, stopping to lean on whatever I had available during contractions, and we talked and I cried....I was so despondent, so depressed, and after 2 nights of almost no sleep I was completely exhausted. How was I going to make it through this labour if the contractions were already this strong and I wasn't even in "active labour" yet!?! Nick was a huge support both physically and emotionally. While we walked we talked: about my fears, about the "options", and we both knew what the "option" was.... We returned to our room and talked to our midwife about the jumble of emotions, about the labour and my fears, and we decided that we would talk to the OB on call.... I knew then that we were taking the first step down the road to another C/S, but I was so caught up in my anxiety and despondency that I had lost hope.

When the Doctor arrived finally at around 9am I was desperate for some relief from the contractions. We talked and I will say that luckily I had an OB who wasn't a Pusher: Oh, he definitely wanted me to have the C/S- to remove the "risks" of my TOL , and to save the staff from the obvious stress of even having a VBA3C in their L&D floor- BUT, he made the suggestion that he check me to see how far along in my labour I was "before" we made the final decision. For this alone, I have a big amount of respect for the man, because at that moment I was so vunerable that he could of pushed me right down to the OR himself and knocked me out, and I wouldn't of made a peep..... But instead he checked me.

I was 8 cm!!!!

From down in the valley of emotional despare so dark and heavy that I could barely breath, I flew up to the top of the tallest mountain of elation!! 8 cm?!? I COULD do this!!!! Nick's face lit up in what I knew was a mirror expression of my own. 8cm was unimaginable.

"What do you want to do?" the OB asked.
"I want to continue to labour!!!" I almost shouted in excitement.

Of course, he then started on the litany of risks, and rules I "had" to follow. He sugested that we break my water to help get things moving along which I readily agreed to (hell, if he'd sugesting cartwheels while holding a bottle of nitroglycerine I'd of eagerly agreed with him!). So he quickly broke my membranes and with a huge rush of lovely clear amniotic fluid I instantly felt baby Boobalumba drop down a bit farther. Continuing with his sermon, the OB warned me that he'd give me "One hour" to show some progress and that we would discuss "the Options" when he returned.

For the 20 minutes or so, the contractions eased off in severity though getting closer to gether. I was laughing between contractions and joking with nick and my midwife..... that break was short lived though as very soon TRANSITION fell on me like a lead curtain.

Oh it was BAD.

After an hour the Doctor returned and checked me again- still 8 cm. Tsk tsk tsk is what I got, and again he started on listing the risks and lecturing me on the dangers of having a uterine rupture if I didn't hurry up and progress. I argued with him that the fact that Boobalumba was lower WAS progress and he immediately lost my high regard of him by shushing me and telling me off like a naughty child.

Have I mentioned that I don't take lightly to someone treating me as an inferior being? Hackles got raised, and Nick quickly set about to calm me down. We were Given another hour.

Oh gods!!! Contractions were now never ending waves that carried away with it any semblance of humanity that I had left. Occasionally interesting flashes of insights penetrated through the haze of transition: thoughts of caged mountain lions screaming in rage at their captors. Comparisons between myself and the lone wolf caught in a trap that gnaws it's own leg off to try to escape.... for I was the trapped animal. trapped by the hospital staff, policies, doctors and my midwives - hooked up to a fetal monitor that inhibited my ability to move, inhibited by people telling me where to go , how to position myself and reminding me of the clock that continued to tick towards the "Dead line".

Now some of what I"m about to relay is what I learned happened later from Nick. At this point my chronological memory that records the events as they happen becomes seriously irratic with gaping holes big enough to drive a truck through.

At some point during my transition to blubbering mess, my girlfriend Lynda showed up after taking my kids to her parents house. Between Lynda and Nick, I had a small bit of calm to cling to as they took turns talking to me, feeding me sips of water ,rubbing my back and helping me get as comfortable as possible.

Then my second hour was up. The OB arrived and announced that I was still just 8cm, that my cervix was inflamed.....I begged for relief. I was ready to admit to defeat. I managed to beat back the contractions and somewhat cohearantly tell the doctor that if I could just relax for a minute, just have a moments respite to gain control of myself again.... If I was heading down the hallway to the Operating Room anyway, then give me the epidural so we could try just one last time to finish this dialation thingy that they were all so hyper about..... Nick discussed it with the Doctor and they arranged to get me an epidural and Nick bargained a further half hour aftewards to see if we could achieve the final 2 cm that they wanted.

Immediately the room seemed to fill with people- two maternity nurses bustled in to set up an IV and I remember biting the head off one of them for even thinking about putting the IV into the back of my hand.... my second midwife was there... the noise levels rose substantially and I felt like I was in a stadium surrounded by over whelming crowds. I vaguely recollect my midwife checking me again and saying that she thought the cervical lip could be moved.... and that she did something down there that wasn't' pleasant. Then they all decided that I needed to be laying down: RIGHT NOW. "Take the pressure off the cervix" "let the swelling go down".... snippets of directions, with me arguing that I didn't' WANT to lay down. I CAN'T lay down. I WON'T lay down.... yet somehow they had me down flat on the bed, taking away the last vestige of control that I had over this 3 ringed circus.

More people flooded into the room- the anesthesiologist with cart loads of paraphenalia. At somepoint they kicked Lynda out of the room on some flimsy excuse, leaving me with one less island of support to cling to.

At this point I remember feeling "The Push". I remember telling "them" that I needed to push, that I felt THAT pressure, that I needed to poop.... and I remember "them" telling me not to push, that it was too early, that I wasn't fully dilated to the golden 10. They rolled me to my side to get ready for the epidural, hands on me every where, voices ordering me to do this and do that, curl into a ball, hold still, don't move.... I tried to follow orders. The small inner voice of logic screamed at myself to listen, "don't move you idiot!! that's a needle in your spine!!!" But the primal me all of a sudden was engulfed by an all consuming command "PUSH" ....Out of the confusion of the moment, standing out from the roaring crowds came a scream "I HAVE TO PUSH!!! I HAVE TO PUSH!!!!!"

The crowds yelled back at me "don't move!!" "Don't Push!!!" ...

What came next is a moment of clarity that I will remember to my last breath, it came so clearly and so powerfully that it is permanently etched into my brain: I PUSHED. With every fiber of my being. Every muscle, every tendon, every vital organ.... I pushed once, then again. And I felt baby boobalumba burst through some invisible barrier and move down into my vagina, felt every contour every millimetre of his decent. And a primal growling scream rose out of me that was like pure energy. I was filled with a sense of exhilaration as endorphins flooded my system.....I CAN DO THIS!!!! I CAN BIRTH MY BABY!!! Only to cut off by grabbing hands and barking orders from the maddening crowds "Stop!! Don't push!! don't Move!!..." Voices tumbled over top of each other "Is the baby comeing?" Can you see the head?" "I can see the Head!" "Turn her around" "Lay on your back!" bellowing voices barking orders at me.....

The human Dani fought with the primal dani to take back control. The human logical Dani KNEW what she needed to do. Knew that she needed to take back control of her body- not just from the primal Dani, but from all of these people who were trying to control her. I needed to get up. I needed to get off my back and upright. I needed to find my voice and make these people all shut up and LISTEN TO ME.

Another contraction and another push. This time my midwife cheered me on "Push!!!!!", and I did, feeling the baby's head start to crown, the burning that brought with it that all encompassing need to keep pushing..... only to have it all come to a crashing halt: The epidural kicked in, to block all the sensations of the contractions. The voices yelled at me to push, but the urge was simply gone. Along with the realization that my guide had disappeared came the fact that I couldn't breathe. "They" kept yelling at me to push, to lay back and grab my legs and pull them back.... and I couldn't find my centre, couldn't breathe in the air deep enough to get a full breath, couldn't feel the contractions to cue me to push..... I needed to get up. I HAD to get up, I tried to tell them to let me up.... but they just kept pushing me back and telling me to grab my legs.....

"tsk tsk tsk we missed another contraction."

"Dani you HAVE to push, the baby's head is half way out!!! You HAVE to push!!!"

HELLO?! I'm perfectly aware of exactly where the baby's head is thank you very much!!!!

I tried again to tell them that I couldn't feel the contractions, that I couldn't breathe..... but the crowds drown me out with their incessant comands and natteringly annoying verbal diahreah.

I reached down and felt the top of my baby's head and ran my fingers through the masses of soggy hair. Someone pushed my hand away and forced me to grab the back of my thigh. The human Dani sighed in resignation. They couldn't hear me, they wouldn't listen. I had no choice but to do it "their" way. So ignoring the roaring of the masses surrounding me, I breathed in as deeply as I could and P U S H E D.

The relief of his head coming fully out is one that every woman who has given birth can no doubt relate to. I again reached down. I wanted to birth my baby. I wanted to grasp his slippery body as it came out of me, as we started our journey as two seperate beings. I wanted to be the first to hold him.... then someone pushed my hands away again and forced them back to my legs. And so again I pushed as "they" ordered, and baby boobalumba was born.

Strange, But as soon as he was delivered onto my belly, the human Dani completely took over again. I immediately reminded my midwife not to clamp the umbilical cord, and asked for a warmed blanket to put over both of us. Once the cord was cut a few minutes later, my midwife asked me to push to deliver the placenta. At that point one of the nurses made a motion to press on my belly and I immediately slapped her hand away and told her no, then told my midwife that I did not want any cord traction applied. As the epidural was now firmly in place and I had no feeling at all, I concentrated on muscle memory and pushed....HARD, delivering the placenta in one quick swoosh. After that, it went according to "the plan". At one point one of the nurses tried to rub Boobalumba down with a towel and I pushed her away again, but after that no one interfered with me and the baby, no one tried to weigh him or measure him or clean him. The left me alone to be with my baby.

Now that clarity had returned I could concentrate on my baby. Could interact with the people around me as a rational being again. I immediately started asking Nick for details and found out that Lynda had been kicked from the room, and that Nick had run out into the hallway as soon as Boobalumba was born to grab her and bring her back in. He also told me that the nurses wouldn't allow him to take a picture as our son was crowning. That made me so angry. But mostly I basked in the warmth of knowing that I DID IT!!!!

Oh I was MAD.

REALLY MAD!!! But on the surface I was able to enjoy the victory for what it meant to me personally: a personal validation that I was not broken. Though the birth had not gone even remotely as I had wished and my birth plan was basically trampled on by galloping hordes. I DID IT.


Writing this down, now over a week later, I am able to verbalize many things that at the moment were just notes that were stored away for later analysis. The basic need for understanding and support for the VBAC mother. Support and Care that is different than what other birthing mothers need. My personal story is one of vindication of a VBA3C mom. We are not broken. We are perfectly capable of birthing our babies without the surgeons knife. My story I hope will inspire those that were there- the OB Doctor, the L&D Nurses, my midwives- to realize that it IS possible. That it is something that can be achieved if only women are given the choice. I didn't have the "choice". I Demanded that they allow it. I didn't have their support, nor their understanding. I had to rely solely upon myself and my husband, knowing that if we wavered even for a moment- as we came so close to doing several times- we would be engulfed by the medical machine and processed as yet another number. Our birth is now a number, but one that is important: the first VBA3C to be born in Cambridge Memorial Hospital, and by the Cambridge midwives group. I hope that through my experience they will use that to open doors to more VBAC mothers. I hope that my story inspires others to make choices for themselves and to learn from my mistakes and my victories. We CAN do it. But we will have to fight for our Rights, and continue to fight to make the changes needed so that other women will Not have to fight the same battle.

Friday, February 5, 2010

The use of Reglan (Metoclorpromide) to increase Breastmilk production

This message was just sent to me this morning. Although most physicians in Canada are now using Domperidone and no longer prescribing Metoclorpromide to increase milk supply, it is important to get this information out as some doctors may still be prescribing Reglan (Metoclorpromide) to increase lactation in Breastfeeding mothers.

Please pass this information to breastfeeding support groups.



My name is Vanessa Belmonte and I work with the Tardive Dyskinesia Center (located at www.tardivedyskinesia.com. ) We provide educational information on tardive dyskinesia, a movement disorder caused by the medication Reglan (Metoclorpromide). Reglan is sometimes prescribed to women who have trouble lactating during breastfeeding, without properly being informed of the long term side effects. Often it is also prescribed to babies who have reflux and without properly stating all side effects this can affect the child forever. I hope you will consider keeping a note of our organization as a resource.



Tardive Dyskinesia (TD) is a result of damage to the bodily systems that process dopamine, and is typically caused by exposure to certain neurological medications - including Reglan. Tardive Dyskinesia victims suffer from involuntary, repetitive movements which often continue after the drug is no longer used and are irreversible and incurable. We feature the most up-to-date information on TD, its causes and all known treatment options.



The best treatment is prevention. Right now we are in the midst of a public outreach, attempting to educate families on the dangers of Reglan. I hope you will pass this message along to others who may be using or prescribing Reglan.



Sincerely,



Vanessa Belmonte

Vindication!!! New VBAC study!!!!

I woke up this morning to be greeted with happy happy news. The kind of news to make a woman 39 and a half weeks pregnant, who's spent months fighting for her right to have a VBA3C, get up and dance around the kitchen....albeit awkwardly and vaguely penguin-like, lol.

New research to be published in BJOG: An International Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology , has found that women with 3 previous Caesarean Sections have similar outcome rates of success as women with only one previous Caesarean section in a study of 25000 women attempting a vaginal birth after a Ceasarean section. The study shows that not only did the women with 3 previous C/Section uterine scars have a very similar rates of success in having a VBAC birth, but that the rates of morbidity were also very similar between the women that had a VBA3C and those that chose to be delivered by elective repeat caesarean.

This is the first study that has analysed this large a group of women- over 25000 women with at least one previous Ceasarea section over a period of 3 years. I am currently waiting to receive the full abstract of the study and will post it here for those women, like my self, that are searching for the hard proof to back up their decisions to have a VBAC Birth.

Not only am I going to be giving a copy of this article to my midwives this morning, but I think I will attach a copy to my birth plan that I will be handing out at the hospital to the Obstetrical staff.

....Pardon me while I go dance a gig in my kitchen again.



Do We Need To Revisit VBAC Guidelines For Women With Three Or More Prior Caesareans?
Main Category: Pregnancy / Obstetrics
Article Date: 04 Feb 2010 - 1:00 PST




New research to be published in BJOG: An International Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology has found that women with three or more prior caesareans who attempt vaginal birth have similar rates of success and risk for maternal morbidity as those with one prior caesarean, and similar overall morbidity (adding vaginal births and emergency caesareans together) as those delivered by elective repeat caesarean.

Planned vaginal birth after caesarean (VBAC) refers to any woman who has experienced a prior caesarean birth who intends to try for a vaginal birth rather than to deliver by elective repeat caesarean. Although relatively low complication rates, including uterine rupture, have been demonstrated among women with two prior low-transverse caesareans who attempt vaginal birth, there are very limited data available on outcomes among women with more than two prior caesareans. Neither the American College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (ACOG) nor the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG) currently recommend planned VBAC attempt in women with three or more prior caesarean deliveries1.

In this study, the researchers sought to estimate the rate of success and risk of maternal morbidity in women with three or more prior caesareans who attempt VBAC. The study reviewed multi-centre data from 17 tertiary and community delivery centres in the Northeastern United States from 1996 to 2000. A total of 25,005 women who had a least one prior caesarean delivery were included.

The findings indicate that women with three or more prior caesarean deliveries did not experience a difference in morbidity based on whether they attempted VBAC or elected for a repeat caesarean. The 89 women with three or more prior caesareans who attempted VBAC were as likely to be successful as women with one or two prior caesareans, 79.8% compared to 75.5% and 74.6% respectively. In addition, none of them experienced significant maternal morbidity such as uterine rupture, uterine artery laceration, and bladder or bowel injury.

The authors suggest that, given the findings, precluding VBAC for all women with three or more prior caesareans may not be evidence based. Although there is a measurable maternal morbidity associated with delivery for a woman with a history of three or more prior caesareans, it does not differ significantly by mode of delivery. Risks associated with multiple caesareans are several, including surgical morbidity and abnormal placentation in future pregnancies.

Lead author, Dr. Alison Cahill, from the Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology at Washington University in St. Louis School of Medicine, said "These data suggest that women with three or more prior caesareans who attempt VBAC have similar rates of success and risk for maternal morbidity as those with one or two prior caesareans, and along with other publications, suggest that perhaps it is time to revisit the current recommendations for VBAC attempts for women with more than one prior caesarean".

"Many have proposed a 'conservative' approach to VBAC attempts, which we agree is prudent. But our evidence does not suggest that a conservative approach, which we interpret as one that aims to reduce morbidity - and specifically the risk of uterine rupture - is necessarily achieved by allowing VBAC attempts only in women with one prior caesarean. Given appropriate patient selection, VBAC following two or even three previous caesareans in certain cases may be reasonably safe."

Prof. Philip Steer, BJOG editor-in-chief, said "Although confidence in the findings of the study is limited by the relatively small sample size of women who have had three previous caesareans, these findings provide additional information for women, and contribute to the available evidence on VBAC success and safety in women with more than one prior caesarean.

"As childbirth does not always 'follow the plan', the results may also serve as a useful reference for clinicians when a women with three or more prior caesareans presents in spontaneous labour."

Notes

BJOG: An International Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology is owned by the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG) but is editorially independent and published monthly by Wiley-Blackwell. The journal features original, peer-reviewed, high-quality medical research in all areas of obstetrics and gynaecology worldwide. Please quote 'BJOG' or 'BJOG: An International Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology' when referring to the journal and include the website: http://www.bjog.org as a hidden link online.

Reference

"Vaginal birth after caesarean for women with three or more prior caesareans: assessing safety and success."
Cahill A. Tuuli M, Odibo A, Stamilio D, Macones G.
BJOG 2010; DOI: 10.1111/j.1471-0528.2010.02498.x.

1. American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG). Practice Bulletin #54: Vaginal birth after previous cesarean. Obstet Gynecol 2004;104:203-12; Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG) Green-top Guideline No.45, Birth After Previous Caesarean Birth (February 2007) available online here.

Source
American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists


HERE to go directly to the original Article

HERE to read the original abstract of the study

FURTHER information about VBA2/3/4C

AND MORE info...

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Bravo for real Boobs!!!!!


Awesome Awesome Awesome!!!!!! That's what I have to say about Kate Winslet!!!


These are the un-retouched, un-fake breasts of a 33 year old woman who has breast fed two babies. God bless you Kate Winslet.
ACTRESS KATE WINSLET

This is a movie still from Kate Winslet's film, The Reader. So accustomed are we to seeing fake boobs in movies and magazines and on TV, seeing the real thing can be a visual shock. But in a GOOD way. Because this is what many many women see when we look in the mirror. And other than the mirror, it's extraordinarily rare to see other real boobs. Which can leave many of us feeling inadequate about our real boobs. If there were more real boobs depicted in popular culture, perhaps more women would be happier with what they had. Do you think? Send a link to this post to all your female friends as a sign of solidarity.

After her most excellent double win at the Golden Globes (for best supporting actress and best actress), Kate went on Oprah and Oprah high-fived her for having real breasts. And she truly does deserve high-fiving because imagine how much pressure there must be in Hollywood to conform to the utterly unrealistic fakery that almost everyone in Hollywood applies to their bodies. Clip of Kate and Oprah after the jump. It's heaven. Bravo Kate. My bosoms salute you.

HERE to go directly to the original Blog article and the video clip from Oprah's show