Choosing an experience: My journey to VBAC

Today's post is written by Pamela Candelaria who writes over at Natural Birth for Normal Women. 

I’m going to come right out and say it: The single biggest reason I wanted a VBAC was because I wanted the experience, magic-filled and complete with angelic music and ethereal light. Well, yes, I had romanticized it a bit, but I had a very clear vision of my ideal birth before my firstborn was a twinkle in his daddy’s eye.  I believe giving birth is a rite of passage, and the actual physical act of giving birth is the highest expression of feminine power.  I was shocked when I ended up having a c-section to deliver my first baby, and it was an enormous struggle for me to work through my feelings of failure. There was never a question that I would pursue VBAC when I had more children. Or at least, there was never a question until I got pregnant again. 

Then it started. I knew I had to be better informed this time, make better choices to have a better birth. My starting point for research was the internet, and it was absolutely filled with horror stories about VBACs gone wrong, catastrophic uterine ruptures that killed babies and left mothers hemorrhaging and facing hysterectomy. If only they’d chosen another c-section, their babies would be alive and they would be able to have more children. My conviction began to falter. I kept reading. I read the derision heaped on VBAC moms, the accusations that we were trying to get a “vag badge” or would rather have a vaginal birth than a healthy baby. I wondered if I was putting my own desire for an experience above the health of my baby. If that was the case, I needed to re-evaluate my priorities make peace with having c-sections for all my children.  

In the midst of my searching, something wonderful happened. I found an online support group full of women who not only knew absolutely everything about VBAC and repeat cesarean (RCS), but were able to direct me to the sources so I could learn it myself. I started reading studies- actual studies that looked at thousands of births. I could see the biases and flaws in the research, and I was able to critically evaluate how the conclusions of the studies were affected by those biases. I had support, I had encouragement, and I had resources- and this is what I learned:

VBAC is safe. Let me say that again: VBAC is safe. That is not to say it is without risk, but any pregnancy following a c-section carries greater risk than a pregnancy with an unscarred uterus. On the whole, VBAC provides better outcomes for mothers and babies than scheduled repeat cesarean.  VBAC babies have higher APGAR scores, lower rates of NICU admission, less need for supplemental oxygen, and shorter hospital stays than babies born by RCS. VBAC moms have less time in the hospital, too, and they also enjoy significantly lower rates of infection, hemorrhage, transfusion and hysterectomy. Repeat cesareans are 2-4 times more likely to result in maternal death than VBAC, but death related to uterine rupture in a VBAC attempt is unheard of. Because I wanted a large family, it was critical for me to learn that risks in future pregnancies dramatically decrease with multiple VBACs, but dramatically increase with multiple c-sections. Having this information renewed my confidence in my decision to VBAC, but it left me with questions, too. Why was the obstetric world so against VBAC? And why do only 10% of women choose VBAC? 

The answers to those questions are multifaceted. The factors influencing modern obstetric care in general, and VBAC specifically, are complex and interwoven to the extent that it’s nearly impossible to separate them. Medical malpractice suits are a huge part of the equation, and there are lawyers ready and waiting to vilify OBs who support VBACs. It’s estimated that 30% of OBs have stopped supporting VBACs solely because they fear malpractice liability, and another 29% have increased their c-section rate for the same reason. The ACOG issued guidelines requiring “immediate” availability of emergency c-section for VBAC moms, and as a result nearly 1/3 of hospitals stopped supporting VBAC labors. But with the majority of OBs and hospitals still allowing VBAC, I wondered, why do women choose RCS in droves? 

It is common (though inaccurate) knowledge that VBAC is safer for mothers and RCS is safer for babies, and there is a strong social expectation that we as mothers should be willing to sacrifice our own safety to ensure the safety of our babies. We fear we’ll be held responsible if a VBAC goes wrong, but choosing RCS makes the OB responsible for the safety of the baby during birth. Many OBs provide misleading information about the risks of VBAC, guiding women to “choose” RCS because it is falsely presented as risk-free.  Other OBs claim to be VBAC-supportive, but have a laundry list of criteria that virtually guarantee no one will ever achieve a trial of labor. VBAC is no longer a mainstream birth choice, and when faced with unsupportive providers, misinformation, scare tactics, and a constant need to be vigilant and advocate for ourselves to ensure we’re given an opportunity to birth the way we want- well, is it any surprise that most of us opt out? 

After all my hours of research, I felt vindicated. Not only was my desire for a birth experience okay, but going ahead and having that experience was going to be better for me and my baby and all my future babies too. I was also lucky; my OBs never questioned my decision to VBAC and they were supportive and encouraging throughout my pregnancies. I have now had three VBACs, and oddly enough, there wasn’t a single one marked by angelic music or ethereal light. I never had that ideal birth I’d envisioned. It was just me, birthing my babies, having that experience, doing a little part of God’s work. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  

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Pam is a mother of 4 who found a passion for birth through her cesarean and 3 VBAC journeys. She believes the best way to improve maternity care is to empower all women to make fully informed decisions, regardless of what type of birth they choose. She resides in Denver, Colorado. 

J Lo tells us the reason we should all get our pre-baby body back...

Recently, Jennifer Lopez was interviewed for  US magazine. Not the most intriguing of magazines, I know, but they do have (what I am assuming is) hundreds of thousands of subscribers, and many, many more pick it up while waiting in line at the grocery store. The cover screams, "MY BEST BODY EVER" and provides us with an eyeful of the celebrity looking happy and sultry. A look all of us mothers are apparently dying to achieve. (Insert eye roll). The article quotes Lopez as saying,"You get to the point where you're like, Where am I? What happened to me? I got to get myself together for my kids, you know? They need to know what I really look like."

Don't get me wrong; I love me some J Lo. Many times I've been running, listening to her music, shaking my butt, trying to tap into my inner Latina. But, Jesus H. Christ. "They need to know what I really look like" ?? What she really looks like? I can guarantee, that what she really looks like is not some perfectly lit, posed, professionally make-up'd, airbrushed and photoshopped celebrity. And what kind of message does this send to her children and to other mothers? Call me completely bananas-gone-crazy, but this is the message it sends to me as a mother: 

Mamas: If you've got a little or a lot of belly fat, perhaps some pesky cellulite on your thighs,

 some sag on your butt cheeks after having those babies, don't you think it's about time you show 

your kids what you looked like BEFORE you had them? So what if it's been several years and you're

 not 20 anymore. Do it for your KIDS! Get yourself together for your them. 

Clearly, I jest, and who really takes J Lo seriously anymore. But, this is nothing new. We see it and hear it daily. The "How I got my body back after baby" article is a pretty constant bombardment to us mothers. So how do we ignore it? How in the world do we squash just deal with the body image pressures after having babies? 

There are many things a woman can do about it, and it really depends on the severity of her issues. I will say a couple of things. First of all, remember this: When you decide to have a baby, your life will change permanently. Forever. For the rest of your natural life. So, count on the fact that it's pretty likely that your body will change too. For-ev-er. Am I happy about the fact that my body is different now after having 2 babies? No. By no means do I give myself a wink and a thumbs up in the mirror when my eyes fall on a part of my body that is different than it used to be. But, I'm learning to live with it. Sometimes I just sigh and have to say, "It is, what it is", then go chase my toddler or nurse my daughter (which by the way I'll take my not-so-perky-anymore breasts as a trade off for breastfeeding both of my children). Just try to keep it in perspective. We chose to have the attitudes we have about certain things. Body image is no different. We can choose to be in a place of "Oh-my-god-I-need-to-get-my-body-back-or-else-(insert worst possible fate)" or we can choose to just accept it for what it is.

Your kids don't care if you have some belly fat. They don't care if you have some cellulite. But, they do care (and listen) about how you think and talk about your body. I vowed to do my best to heal my body image issues and to not pass them on to my children, especially my daughter. I do the best I can. Sometimes I feel like that clown at the circus who spins plates on both hands, one foot, his head and his nose. Some fall off, sometimes he looks silly, but, hey, at least he's trying, right? We have a lot to deal with as mothers. Let's not beat ourselves up by comparing our bodies now to what they looked like before we had babies.

Thanks anyway, J Lo. Please don't comment anymore about that. Just keep making great movies making music that we can shake our butts to. 

Things you shouldn't say to a pregnant lady...

...Or one that just had a baby

“Don’t be a hero, just get the epidural.” 

Plain and simple- Women who don’t get an epidural during childbirth are not trying to be a hero. They’re not trying to prove anything to anyone. They don't want a trophy, a medal, or a "congratulations". Their reasons may vary, but I can almost guarantee that they are completely annoyed by the “Don’t be a hero” statement. 

“Women that have natural child birth are crazy!”


We are trained to think that childbirth is hidiously painful and should be avoided at all costs. Childbirth is a right of passage and many women embrace it, pain and all. 

“VBAC is selfish. You should just do the safest thing for your baby and have another c-section”


This one makes my head spin. If anyone was truly educated on both the subject of multiple cesarean and VBAC, they would never say this ridiculous statement. I can only assume this would be said by someone that doesn't have a clue about both subjects or does not have a vagina. If someone does have the balls to say this, ask them where they got their medical degree. 
VBAC is not selfish. 

“Having a healthy baby is all that matters. It doesn’t matter how he’s born”

There is someone else involved in the birth and caring of that baby- and it’s his mother. Her physical health is important, but also her mental and emotional health. I am so tired of hearing this. It does matter how the baby is born! It goes without saying that the health of the baby is most important, but it's entirely unfair that the mother's feelings are simply pushed aside. 

“C-section is the way to go. No contractions, no pushing, you’re in, you’re out!” 

If you’ve never had a c-section and you say this to someone, shame on you. You have no right to impose this type of advice. If you’ve had a c-section and your experience was pleasant, I ask you to STOP telling pregnant women this. The process of labor and delivery is actually healthy for mother and baby. Most women grow up hearing nothing but horror stories about labor, so they learn to fear labor. I mean really FEAR labor. But women's bodies are made for labor. We're made to be able to take the pain and the contractions. 

“Well, it could always be worse”

I'd like to think that this statement is said when there is absolutely nothing else to say. Perhaps out of desperation to fill the silence or say anything to make the mother feel better. But, I urge, you...don't say this! Obviously, it could always be worse. But, someone who didn't have a great birth experience does not need their feelings to be made less. 

And lastly, I hesitated to write about this, but I wanted to make the point. (Another great post about this is here). If someone has had a traumatic c-section, or even a non-traumatic one but has ill feelings toward it, I think saying the following can be hurtful:

“Don’t worry, next time you can just have a VBAC!”

It can be negative for two reasons. First, she may not be a good candidate for a VBAC or she may attempt and not succeed (or she may be done having babies). Secondly, having a VBAC doesn’t automatically erase or “fix” the feelings of a previous traumatic birth experience. In some ways, I expected this to happen to me. Although my VBAC was great, and I encourage all women to try for one that desire to, I’m still sad that my son came into the world in a way that I feel was not the greatest. It’s out of my control, I’ve come a long way with the feelings assocaited with it, but like any traumatic experience, happier ones in the future don’t make it all better. 


Photo courtesy of Shutter Daddy

Caveat Emptor: The Real Risks of Cesarean Section

Today's post is written by Pamela Candelaria who writes over at Natural Birth for Normal Women. 

Over 1.3 million babies in the US were born by c-section in 2008, accounting for 32.3% of all births. The most common reason for cesarean delivery is having had one before, but the reasons for a cesarean can vary widely. Sometimes there are medical reasons for planning a c-section prior to labor, and emergencies during labor make other c-sections truly lifesaving. For a huge number of women, though, the picture is less clear. They are told they have small pelvises, or big babies, or their labors aren’t progressing fast enough. Many women are told cesareans are a safe way to avoid the risks of vaginal birth, and an increasing number of mothers are choosing c-sections with no medical indication at all. Whatever the reason for the c-section, though, one thing they almost always have in common is a lack of truly informed consent. Let’s look at the risks listed on a fairly typical consent form—what isn’t on the form may be surprising:

The consent form says:

Infection in the skin incision, usually this is controlled with antibiotics. Sometimes it can require you to be re-admitted to the hospital, but in most cases antibiotics are taken as an out-patient.

In reality, you are twice as likely to be re-hospitalized following a c-section, infection is almost five times more likely to occur, and infection can extend to the uterine incision. Taking antibiotics while breastfeeding contributes to thrush, adding another challenge when breastfeeding is already less likely to succeed following a cesarean. 

The consent form says:

Development of heavy bleeding at the time of surgery with the possibility of hemorrhage which could require a blood transfusion.

Transfusion is required in up to 6% of cesarean sections. If your c-section goes perfectly, you’ll lose over twice as much blood as you would during a normal vaginal birth- and even that number may be grossly underestimated. It is interesting to note that “normal” blood loss during a c-section would be considered a hemorrhage during a vaginal birth.  

The consent form says:

Injury to the bladder and/or bowel which could require surgical repair (this occurs in less than 1% of all Cesarean sections)

True- but mild bowel paralysis occurs following up to 20% of cesareans, and some women have bladder injuries that don’t require surgical correction but do require use of a catheter for weeks following delivery. Even if only 1% of women require further surgery to correct these injuries, that is almost 14,000 additional- and largely preventable- surgeries per year being performed on mothers who should be happily caring for their newborns.

The consent form says:

Injury to the ureter (a small tube which passes urine from the kidney to the bladder)

While this injury is unusual, occurring in just 0.1% to 0.25% of cesareans, it often goes undiagnosed until the mother returns to her doctor with symptoms including pain and fever. Another surgery is then required. 

The consent form says:

Developing a blood clot in the leg veins after delivery

This occurs in ½% to 2% of c-sections- somewhere between 6,900 and 27,000 women- and can be fatal; yet many women are never told what symptoms to look for or how to reduce their risk.  

The consent form says:

Risks for subsequent pregnancies include: placenta previa (where the placenta lies wholly or partly in the lower part of the uterus)

Shockingly, this consent form fails to list any other risks for future pregnancies. Reproductive consequences of a primary cesarean include a risk of uterine rupture that is 12 times higher than it would be with an unscarred uterus, even if a repeat cesarean is scheduled. A woman also faces increased risk of placenta previa, more severe placenta problems like abruption and accreta, miscarriage and unexplained stillbirth, unexplained secondary infertility, and dramatically increased risk of surgical complications in future c-sections. If that is not enough, the scar tissue and adhesions left by cesarean surgery can cause chronic pelvic pain and sexual dysfunction, and in rare cases can cause intestinal blockage that can be fatal.

The consent form says:

Cutting the baby during the incision into the uterus (this occurs rarely).

About 1-2% of babies are cut during c-sections- that could mean over 25,000 babies, every year, receiving anything from a nick to a severe laceration at the hands of the delivering OB. While the consent form ends here, a slippery scalpel is not the only risk babies face when delivered by cesarean. Babies born by elective cesarean are up to seven times more likely to have respiratory problems at birth, and are up to three times as likely to die in their first month of life.  C-section babies have lower APGAR scores, higher NICU admission rates, and they are more likely to have ongoing health problems like asthma. It’s important to note, these are low-risk babies, not babies who are delivered by emergency cesarean who may have been affected by complications of labor. No, these babies experience these issues as a direct result of the way they were born. 

I’ve talked with hundreds of women about their cesarean births, both online and in real life. There is a pervasive belief that c-sections transfer the inherent risks of birth to the mother, providing babies a safer and lower-risk entrance into the world than they’d have with a vaginal birth. Many OBs perpetuate this myth, but it’s clear they aren’t telling us the whole story. I don’t think I’ve met one woman- not one single mother- who was told up front that in some respects her c-section put her baby at greater risk than vaginal birth would have. Even though many women seem comfortable with the increased maternal risks of c-sections, few are truly aware of exactly what those risks are, how much they are increased, or how they can be reduced. OBs are selling c-sections as a safe and easy way to deliver a baby- and women are buying. 

Buyer beware.

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Pam is a mother of 4 who found a passion for birth through her cesarean and 3 VBAC journeys. She believes the best way to improve maternity care is to empower all women to make fully informed decisions, regardless of what type of birth they choose. She resides in Denver, Colorado. 

Sources:

2008 Birth Data

http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nvsr/nvsr58/nvsr58_16.pdf

Cesarean Section Consent Form

http://www.awomansplaceobgyn.com/PDF/CONSENT-FOR-CESAREAN-SECTION.pdf

Risk of selected postpartum infections after cesarean section compared with vaginal birth: A five-year cohort study of 32,468 women

http://www.informaworld.com/smpp/content~db=all~content=a913514882

Cesarean Fact Sheet

http://www.vbac.com/pdfs/CesareanFactSheet.pdf

Neonatal Morbidity and Mortality After Elective Cesarean Delivery

Caroline Signore, MD, MPH^a and Mark Klebanoff, MD, MPH^b

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2475575/

Thrush in Breastfeeding Moms

http://www.babycenter.com/0_thrush-in-breastfeeding-moms_8486.bc

Cesarean Childbirth

http://www.emedicinehealth.com/cesarean_childbirth/page9_em.htm 

Estimates of cesarean-related blood loss shown to be too low

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m0CYD/is_13_38/ai_105514154/  

Urologic Injury at the Time of Cesarean Delivery

http://www.femalepatient.com/html/arc/sig/obsF/articles/034_08_023.asp

Uterine Rupture in Pregnancy

http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/275854-overview

Deadly Delivery Summary

http://www.amnestyusa.org/dignity/pdf/DeadlyDeliverySummary.pdf

Fetal Injury Associated with Cesarean Delivery

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/17012450

The Easter Bunny meets Cesarean Awareness

April is my favorite month. Probably because it's my birthday, Spring, Easter and Cesarean Awareness Month. So guess what this post is about? Yes, another topic that gets my panties in a wad: Cesarean section and VBAC.

Fighting for my own VBAC has changed my life. I don't use that term very often, only when I truly mean it. It opened my eyes up to the world of American obstetrics, and how far we've come away from birth as a natural process. In my opinion, we've shoved a big, fat middle finger in Mother Nature's face.

So, why do I care? Isn't it none of my business how another woman gives birth? What she chooses to do is her perogative, isn't that why we're so lucky to live in America? So, shouldn't I just sit back and not judge? Well, yes and no. Yes, I shouldn't judge, but realistically, we're all human and we do it every day. And no, this is my blog and I feel it in my bones to speak out about this. So, if you don't want to hear me rant about birth, unnecessary cesarean and VBAC, you are welcome to stop reading now and for the remainder of the month of April.

Congratulations if you're still reading, you might get your mind changed, help someone else change their mind, or just plain hate me later. I'm okay with any or all of those.

I have come to realize that birth is hands down the most natural, beautiful, organic process in the entire world. It's been happening for billions of years. And it's changing for the worse. We are backpedaling when it comes to nature. Once we figured out we were destroying our planet, we all jumped on the bandwagon to fix it, right? And when we realized how many hazardous chemicals are in our foods and  household products we try to make changes to keep ourselves and families safe, correct? But, here we are, destroying the one thing we all have in common: Birth, and year after year it continues to get worse. In the U.S. the maternal death rate has nearly tripled in the last decade and the cesarean rate has continued to rise for the last 11 years, and if the trend keeps going, it may reach 50% by the time my daughter is ready to have babies. There are many reasons for this sharp rise, but that's not what this post is about.

I feel if I sit back and say nothing, I perpetuate the problem. What has me so upset, is the lack of information women have when they are pregnant and give birth.  When pregnant with my first, I was one of them! I sat back, let my doctor talk at me and hardly questioned him. My instincts told me to do something, anything, ask questions, go against his word, call his bluff. But, I didn't. Years and years of wiring were engrained in me. Things like: Doctors know everything. Doctors always have your best interests at heart. Hospitals are the best and safest place to have babies. Birth is scary, painful and dangerous. These are all things I thought were true, never trying to find out if any of it was factual or not. Guess what? It's all bullshit.

(Note: Not all doctors are bad. There are some great obstetricians, ones that support VBAC and will even wait it out on a long labor. But, this post is not about that either. Moving on!)

So, what is this post about? Basically what I stated before: I feel that many women lack important information when they are pregnant and giving birth. Some patients rights include:

• Women can refuse to be examined or treated by anyone.
• Pregnant women have a right to refuse any medical treatment or drug, including a cesarean section, episiotomy, anesthesia, and pain medication.
• A woman has a right to change her mind about any decision made before or during labor or childbirth.

Those are just a few. For a full list and other great information, click here. I hear story after story of women who are pregnant that didn't know they could refuse treatment, cesarean deliveries, vaginal exams or other interventions. It's up to us to know our rights and be able to ask or question our medical professionals. 

One of my favorite birth bloggers, Barbara Herrera, wrote a post entitled, "When you buy the hospital ticket...you go for the Hospital Ride." She says, "If you want control, why go where egotistical birth is the norm? If you want autonomy, why go where lawsuits and defensive medicine are the rule?" I'll be honest. I was scared shitless that my baby might be in danger during labor. Why? Because I was fed the absolute worst possible scenarios at each and every one of my OB appointments. If you know me and/or read my blog you know that I encourage and teach people to listen to their intuition, their gut instincts. Mine was telling me everything was fine, myself and my daughter were healthy and safe and that I should trust my body. But, as mothers, as incubators of these precious creatures it's very difficult to ignore modern medicine and not place our utmost trust in our superhero medical birthing system. After all, hospitals save babies. They save mothers birthing babies. In very, very rare instances they do this. But, you have to wonder: Is a hospital the safest place to birth? Is it the best place to bond with our babies? Are we just too scared and maybe uninformed to do it anywhere else? Do women really think they can't or don't know how to birth? Is it just a coincidence that as maternal mortality is rising so is the rate of cesarean sections?

The month of April will continue with birth and Cesarean related posts. Here are some references if you are pregnant, wanting a VBAC, or thinking about either one. Or if you know someone who may learn something about birth, these would make an excellent gift. Birth is the first major event your child experiences. Inform yourself to be able to make the best choices for yourself and your baby. Empower yourself to take control of your body and your birth.

"Ina May's Guide to Child Birth" by Ina May Gaskin
"The Thinking Womans Guide to a Better Birth" by Henci Goer (this one is great if you like scientific research to back up all the things you're reading).

"Your Best Birth: Know All Your Options, Discover the Natural Choices, and Take Back the Birth Experience" by Ricki Lake and Abbi Epstein.
Also, visit the International Cesarean Awareness Network, VBAC Facts and The Unnecesarean websites.

Photo courtesy of Thomas van Ardenne

A little rant about eating disorder myths

Recently, while on a Facebook page regarding eating disorders I noticed a few comments some people had made about eating disorders and thin people. One said, "It was great when Dove soap starting using real women in their ads" and another said, "It's just time to wake up and see that a size 0 is just sick! We need more people to join our fight!" (They were both men, by the way)

Okay. First off, let me start by saying it's comments like that that make me think just for one tiny second that I can't fight this fight anymore. It's too big and too deep and too tall for just little ol' me to lend a hand. However, then I squash that pesky voice and take two steps at a time up on my soapbox:

"It was great when Dove soap starting using real women in their ads"

ALL women are REAL women. Did you hear me? ALL of us. It doesn't matter if you are a size zero, eyeball deep in an eating disorder or naturally a size zero and healthy. Or if you are a size 24, or if you wear a triple XL, or anywhere in between. When we start to use terms like "real" we judge everyone else and we are no better off than companies like Victoria's Secret who only use ultra thin models in their ads. (I think that the commenter got confused when referring to Dove ads. Dove started the Real Beauty Campaign, not Real Women).

"It's just time to wake up and see that a size 0 is just sick! We need more people to join our fight!"

A size zero is NOT sick. Someone that suffers from an eating disorder is sick. And by sick, I mean ill. An eating disorder is no different than any other mental illness that needs to be treated by a medical professional. I know several women that are a size zero or close to it, that are perfectly healthy, do not starve themselves to be thin, nor do they participate in any other behavior that warrants an eating disorder status. They are judged for being thin, people assume they are starving, and are even disliked merely because of their size. No matter that they are smart, giving, kind, generous human beings. In America, they're "skinny bitches" naturally, so they deserve to be crapped on?!?!? To the commenter that said this: I will never join your "fight". You're ridiculous. Get informed before you make such ludicrous statements.

Eating disorders come in all shapes and sizes. It is a huge misconception that only the skeletal and emaciated have eating disorders. That they're the only ones that need help or that die. Yes, I said it: Die. Eating disorders kill. And rarely do you see on a death certificate; cause of death: Eating Disorder. It's complications from it, including cardiac arrest, electrolyte imbalance, malnutrition (that can cause kidney failure and respiratory infections), hyponatremia and dehydration, just to name a few. (For a full list, click here). What someone looks like does not tell you they need help. They don't walk around with a tattoo on their forehead that says, "Hey everybody! I have ED!" They look like you and me.



If you read my post a few weeks back on EDNOS, you know that one-third to one-half of all diagnosed eating disorders fall under the diagnosis of EDNOS. It's so important to know these symptoms, so you or someone you love can get help. This is not a joke. We need to open our eyes and see that people are dying from this. It's very real. But, there is hope and help.

Katherine Switzer

March is Women's History Month and with so many amazing women who have made a difference in our world, choosing one to write about is difficult. So, I decided to write about one you many not have heard of.

A few years ago I read that up until 1984 women were not allowed to participate in the Olympic Marathon competition. I was floored. This was in my lifetime that women were actually not allowed to participate. I thought by the time I was born in 1975, we were long past this, however I was wrong. As runner myself, this both fascinated and angered me and I wanted to know more. Upon researching, I came across Katherine Switzer, who has become my own personal hero. The following story is from the book, "The Spirit of the Marathon" by Gail Waesche Kislevitz. This story makes me emotional, gives me goosebumps, especially to see the pictures of what happened. Perhaps because when I read it I put myself in Katherine's shoes. As a woman, an athlete, it makes me so proud of Katherine, what she stands for and what an amazing role model she is for young girls and women everywhere. So, please sit back and read the whole story. It's well worth it!

Life is for Participating

by Gail Waesche Kislevitz

Kathrine Switzer
D.O.B.: 1-5-47
Residence: New York/New Zealand
Occupation: Program Director, Avon Running, Global Women's Circuit;
Director, Women's Health and Fitness, RYKA
First Marathon: 1967 Boston Marathon, Boston, MA
Age at first marathon: 20

Every time a female runner enters a marathon, a small offering should be made to Kathrine Switzer. Through her tenacity, stubbornness and belief that women can too run 26.2, she scaled the male bastion of the Boston Marathon that barred women from its race and helped to open its doors to women, which it officially did in 1972. Switzer then put her degree in journalism and her love for running to good use and furthered the cause for women in sports through her work at Avon and RYKA shoes. When not traveling the globe promoting women's walking and running, Kathrine can be found taking her daily run through Central Park. Among her many citations and awards for her work to advance women's sports is the Runner of the Decade commendation from Runner's World magazine. She was also honored as a member of the inaugural class of the National Distance Running Hall of Fame.

"When I was twelve years old I wanted to be a cheerleader. Like many pre-pubescent girls I thought if I were a cheerleader I would be popular and boys would ask me out and I would end up dating the captain of the football team. When I told my dad of my aspiration he looked at me and said, 'You don't want to be a cheerleader. That's silly. Life is for participating not spectating. The cheerleaders lead cheers. You should play sports and have people cheer for you. You like to run and be active. Why don't you go out for field hockey?' I wasn't a tomboy, but I always thought a girl could do anything a boy could so I took his advice to heart. My mother was a great role model in that sense as she did everything. She worked a professional job, cooked the meals, tended a garden and raised us to believe there were no limitations on what we could do. My dad supported that and encouraged us to think beyond traditional roles.

With my dad's encouragement, I started to get in shape for field hockey by running a mile. No one ran on the streets back in 1959. The only runners I knew were the track and cross-country runners at school. But when I realized that running did in fact build my endurance, it became my secret weapon. I knew it would make me better at other sports. I didn't know anything about training or conditioning, but I knew that running was the key. By high school, I was up to 3 miles and felt like the cock of the walk. No girl I knew anywhere could run three miles a day.

I continued playing field hockey at Lynchburg College in Virginia but was somewhat disappointed in the skills and commitment of the other women. Most of them were not very dedicated to the sport and didn't care whether we won or lost. I cared deeply and played hard, taking practice and the games very seriously. After practice I would run a mile. When the coach found out she got very angry, accusing me of not working hard enough at practice if I still had the energy to run a mile afterwards. What she didn't understand was that mile was my alone time, my solace. One day while I was finishing up my mile, the men's track coach approached me and asked if I would run a mile on the men's team. There was a big meet coming up and he needed another member on the team to qualify and I looked like I could do it. I had no problem with that and agreed. Well, all hell broke out when word got out that a woman was going to run on the men's team. Lynchburg was a small religious-affiliated school and I was doing something almost sacrilegious. On the day of the meet, the campus and field was swarming with local and national media to capture me, this woman, who dared run with men.

The media hype made me nervous and I knew I had to do well to uphold my athletic honor. I finished the mile in 5:58 and was pleased. But I wasn't thrilled with some of the hate mail I received over the incident, telling me God will strike me dead for running with men. I learned a valuable lesson that day. I was being judged not on my athletic ability but on being a woman. It dawned on me for the first time that there would be no sports programs for me after college. Either it just wasn't done or it wasn't available. Billie Jean King had just come out as a professional woman's tennis player and there were some female golf pros, but those sports didn't interest me. Since I loved sports but didn't feel I could participate on a professional level I decided to become a sports journalist and transferred to Syracuse University in 1966.

I was still serious about my running and wanted to continue it at Syracuse. Along the way, running had evolved from being my secret weapon to my first love. It was something I could do by myself, didn't cost anything, didn't need a lot of equipment and I loved being outdoors. I was also good at it. I knew that running was going to be a lifetime sport for me. I've often felt that if field hockey were an Olympic sport I would have stayed with it because I did love it and never would have become a runner. But those avenues were not available to women back in the early sixties. Women today have so many choices, from soccer to basketball to snowboarding, almost anything they desire. For me, it was running.

At Syracuse I went to see the men's cross country coach and asked if I could run on the team since there wasn't a women's team. He looked at me a bit startled and said, 'I've been coaching for thirty years and have never had a woman ask to be on the team. I can't let you run officially because it is against the NCAA rules but you are welcome to come and work out with us.' With that, I started running with the team but was miles behind them. That's when I met Arnie Briggs, who was the postman for the University. He finished his job at three in the afternoon and then worked out with the team. He did this for years until finally he became the unofficial manager of the team. He was also a marathon runner and had run the Boston Marathon fifteen times. When I met him he was fifty to my nineteen. He had a bad knee and all sorts of injuries but could still run slowly, which was faster than what my pace was. And of course, he still had the endurance for long runs. He was excited that a girl was with the team and sort of adopted me. Actually I think he felt sorry for me because as soon as the team headed out for their runs, I would lose sight of them and wouldn't know where to go. He took me under his wing and taught me about running.

In the winter when the team went indoors for training, Arnie and I stayed outside and ran in the cold and the snow. We were running six to ten miles a night and Arnie would keep me entertained with stories of the Boston Marathon. He'd tell me tales of Clarence DeMar, John Kelley the Elder, John Kelley the Younger, Tarzan Brown, all the legends. I was entranced and fascinated. Finally, one snowy night I said let's stop talking about Boston and just go and run the damn thing. He turned to me and said, 'Women can't run the Boston Marathon. Women aren't capable of running 26.2 miles. It's the law of diminishing returns.' I told him he was crazy, that if I could run 10 miles, why couldn't I run 26? He HAD to believe a woman could do it, because I had read in Sports Illustrated that Bobbie (Roberta) Gibb had run the Boston Marathon in 1966. She hid in the bushes until half the runners had passed and then slipped into the pack. She finished but her time was not recorded as she didn't wear a race number and was not officially entered in the race. When I told this to Arnie, he was enraged and didn't believe it. I was deeply upset at his reaction. I felt our friendship was at a crossroad if he truly didn't believe a woman could run a marathon after all the training and the long runs we had enjoyed together. He thought it over for a while and said that if any woman could run the distance, he believed it was me, and if I could prove to him that I could indeed run 26.2 miles, he would personally take me to Boston.

Now I had a coach and a goal and it was all business from them on. I trained consistently and bumped up the long runs from 15 miles to 17 to 18 miles and so on. It wasn't always easy. At my first attempt at 18 miles I hit the wall. But I kept going and finally we set the day to run 26.2 miles. I was hot to trot, so excited. It was an early April day with snow still on the ground. We mapped out about four 10K loops and as we were finishing up the last loop, Arnie turned and said, 'I can't believe you are going to make it. You are really going to complete a marathon.' It was such a big deal for me. All of a sudden I put on the brakes and said, 'What if we mismeasured the course and we're short of 26.2 miles?' I wanted to be absolutely sure of the distance and began to doubt we had measured accurately. Just to be totally sure, I wanted to add another 5 miles. Arnie was astonished, but said if I could do it, he could do it. During the last five miles of this now 31-mile run, Arnie began weaving back and forth, his legs like jelly. I put my arm through his and steadied him for the last mile. Back at the car, our finish line, I threw my arms around him and slapped him on the back screaming that we were on our way to Boston, and he passed out.

The next day he came over to my dorm with the race entry form. I knew that Bobbi Gibb didn't wear a number, so I somehow thought I'd just show up and run. Oh no, said Arnie, Boston is a serious race, you are a serious runner, you are a member of the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU), and you don't mess with Boston. You have to do it right and officially register. I wondered if it might be against some rule, remembering that I was allowed to run in the conference at Lynchburg College but not with the NCAA at Syracuse University. Arnie had anticipated the question and had the current AAU Rulebook with him. The book listed "Men's Track and Field Events," "Women's Track and Field Events," and then a third category, "The Marathon," which listed nothing about gender. We laughed that nobody would think about a woman running a marathon since only crazy men ran it anyway!

The application also called for a medical certificate. In lieu of that I could have opted to have an onsite physical exam at Boston, but Arnie didn't think I'd want to stand in a hallway with a bunch of naked men getting a physical. So I went to the Syracuse Infirmary for my physical and got the medical certificate signed. Anyway, I filled out the entry, plunked down my $3 entry fee, and signed my name, K.V. Switzer.

Now, the reason I signed K.V. Switzer instead of Kathrine is because I always signed my name that way. Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be a writer and K.V. was going to be my signature name. It seemed to my young mind then that all the good writers used their initials like J.D. Salinger, E.E.Cummings, T.S. Elliot, W.B. Yeats -- so ever since I was twelve I signed all my papers K.V. Switzer, thinking I was totally cool. It was my signature.

Arnie sent my application in with the rest of the track guys from Syracuse who were also planning on running the marathon. Actually, I was the only one who had really trained. That night, I went out with my boyfriend Tom Miller, who was a graduate student and a hammer thrower. He was very amused with all this and would ask me how my 'jogging' was going. When I told him I was running the Boston Marathon, he fell down laughing. He said if I could run a marathon he could too and decided to sign up. He weighed 235 pounds but that didn't discourage him. He just felt if I could do it he could. To prove his point he went out and ran nine miles and declared he was ready. So we all go to Boston.

The day of the race was horrible. Sleeting, snowing, windy and cold. All the runners had on big baggy sweats with windbreakers and hoods. I wore my worst stuff because Arnie said when we got warmed up we'd throw away our old sweats and just leave them behind. As I pinned on my number, the other runners around me noticed I was a woman and got very excited and supportive. They thought it was great that a woman was going to run Boston. We all lined up to go through the starting pen and as I went through the pen, I had to lift my sweatshirt to show my number. Will Cloney himself, the co-race director, pushed me through the starting gate. More people were noticing I was female and congratulated me, all very supportive and excited for me. Arnie, my boyfriend Tom, John Leonard from our cross country team and I were in a little group. Our plan was to stay together for a while but if anyone wanted to split off we would meet at the finish. The race starts and off we go.

Four miles into the race, the media flatbed truck loaded with photographers came through and we all had to get out of the way to let it pass. A bus followed the truck with the journalists and on that bus were co-race directors Will Cloney and Jock Semple. The photographers saw me first and started shouting, 'There's a girl in the race,' and then slowed up in front of us and started taking pictures. By now, I'd thrown away my top sweatshirt and my hair was flying. I didn't try to disguise my gender at all. Heck, I was so proud of myself I was wearing lipstick! When the journalists saw me, they started teasing Jock that a girl had infiltrated his race. They looked up my number and saw K. Switzer and started heckling Jock some more. 'She doesn't look like a Karl,' they'd say. Their bus was still behind us. I was unaware what was going on behind me as we were waving at the photographers in front of us.

Jock was well known for his violent temper. He seethed for awhile, and then he erupted. He jumped off the bus and went after me. I saw him just before he pounced, and let me tell you, I was scared to death. He was out of control. I jumped away from him as he grabbed for me, but he caught me by the shoulder and spun me around, and screamed, 'Get the hell out of my race and give me that race number.' I tried to get away from him but he had me by the shirt. It was like being in a bad dream. Arnie tried to wrestle Jock away from me but was having a hard time himself and then Tom, my 235-pound boyfriend came to the rescue and smacked Jock with a cross body block and Jock went flying through the air. At first, I thought we had killed him. I was stunned and didn't know what to do, but then Arnie just looked at me and said, 'Run like hell,' and I did as the photographers snapped away and the scribes recorded the event for posterity.



The rest is history. My infamous run at the 1967 Boston Marathon is recorded as unofficial and does not post a time, although it was around 4:20:00. Despite that the BAA wanted nothing to do with me, the fact that I ran with a number made headlines around the world. The New York Times reported the story but inadvertently said I didn't finish. I was furious and personally called the reporter to correct his mistake, saying just because you filed your story while I was still out running didn't mean I didn't finish! It was this incident as much as any other that made me determined to become a better runner, to prove I could also be a real athlete, as I certainly never was a quitter and even with all the dreadful stuff at Boston I would have finished that race on my hands and knees to prove that a woman could do it.

Afterwards, I decided to use this experience to insure that other women who wanted to run would not be subjected to the same treatment. I became an organizer and an outspoken proponent for women's physical capability. The first thing I did when Arnie and I got back to Syracuse was form The Syracuse Track Club and encouraged women to join. We staged regular meets with full opportunities for women. I felt the most important thing I could do for women was to create the forum for their acceptance in sports.

Back in Boston, Bobbi Gibb continued to run without a number, as did the other women who were coming on the scene as well. In 1969 three women including Nina Kuscsik, ran unofficially. I stayed away from Boston until 1970. That year, four other women also ran. This time they recorded my time, 3:34. By 1971, myself, Nina Kusisck and Sara Mae Berman ran Boston and afterwards we united our efforts to try and force the arm of the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) to officially allow women to run. We wanted to lift the ban in Boston as well as the exclusion of women running long distance in the Olympics, including the women's marathon.

Finally, in 1972, for the first time ever women were officially welcome to run the Boston Marathon. It was a big breakthrough - at last we could be ATHLETES. After this momentous decision, I continued fighting for women's rights in sports, but for awhile I moved my concentration on being an athlete to my first priority. I was 25 years old and knew I had a window of opportunity left and trained my brains out. I didn't want to get to be 40 and not have tried to go all out. I'd do a 20 or 27 miler every Sunday just to be ready for anything. Some years I did 7 or 8 marathons a year. Probably too much but guess what? I got good! I went back to Boston eight times, and ran a personal best of 2:51:37 in 1975. I also won the New York City Marathon in 1974. When I ran my 2:51 I was thrilled. I though of the time I could only run a mile, then 3 miles, than ran my first marathon at 4:20 only five years ago and here I broke the three hour mark. I am constantly amazed at what the human body can do. Really, I felt if I could do it on my limited talent, I thought thousands of women could do it, and they really deserved the chance to try.

And after running the 2:51, I really wanted to concentrate on making that happen. I was hoping it could become my career, too, somehow. I parlayed my journalism and writing skills with running and set out on a career in public relations and sports marketing promoting races, doing sports writing which evolved into doing TV commentary of running events. I also created the Avon Running Global Women's Circuit, a series of running events for women in many countries. I am most proud of this program because it led in great part to the inclusion of a women's marathon in the 1984 Olympics Games. At the same time, the Avon program and the work I do with RYKA women's sports shoes has allowed me to introduce running to women in 30 countries around the world, giving them the tools, the motivation and the courage to run or walk a race. I've seen 400- pound women show up at a clinic with sullen faces of disbelief, wearing flip flops and eleven weeks later they are sporting smiles and a medal around their necks from their first race.

As an aside, Jock Semple and I became great friends. Five years after the 1967 event he had to welcome me, as well as all the women, as official competitors in the 1972 race and he was very impressed with our performances. We grew from there. For example, in the late seventies I was invited to Boston for a book signing on a book about his life, called "Just Call Me Jock". The promoters of the event thought it would be funny to surprise Jock during his talk by having me jump out from behind the curtains, wearing a gray sweat suit just like the one in the infamous 1967 marathon, and yell 'Get outta here, you're not official, give me that book.' He was certainly surprised and his first reaction was to bop me but when he realized it was a joke, he joined in and enjoyed himself.

I have been lucky in life. I had my parents and Arnie telling me I could do anything I wanted. As a female, I was never resigned to just playing with dolls or only being the cheerleader. Yes, I played with dolls and wore dresses but also climbed trees and played sports with a vengeance. After my experience in Boston, I realized there are plenty of women in the world who grow up without that support and without realizing the sky is their only limit. I wanted to reach those women and do something to change their lives.

All you need is the courage to believe in yourself and put one foot in front of the other."

Photo by Harry Trask for AP Images.