"We’ve all been there. Exhausted. Busy. Hungry. Bored. You name it—we turn the [insert electronic here] on. (Warning: The mom/parent guilt around this can be strong.)
But what are the actual, science-based facts on screen time…and too much of it? As the weather turns colder, we explain the fact-based pluses and minuses of screen time to increase our knowledge on this hot topic. Jonathan S. Comer, Ph.D. will join as our guest panelist, and Natalie Hong, M.S. will guide the discussion as moderator."
The webinar will be held on December 3, 2020 from 9:00-10:00 PM (Eastern Time) via Zoom.
"Every family is unique in its own ways, and parents are navigating the pandemic the best way they know how. We want to shine a light on our co-parenting parents and single parents who are experiencing their own set of distinctive challenges during the pandemic and provide resources to ease the burdens they may be experiencing."
The webinar will be held on November 24, 2020 from 9:00-10:00 PM (Eastern Time) via Zoom.
App Review| May 10, 2020
What is Peanut App
"Peanut App Review: Peanut App is a popular social networking app for women that connects like-minded women and enables them to share their experiences. This app creates a network where women going through similar experiences meet as well as support each other. The app is a reminder for the women during the phases of fertility, pregnancy, as well as motherhood that they are not alone.
Peanut app serves as a gift for women during their overwhelming moments. Moreover, the app allows women to share their struggles and concerns with other women who can understand their situation well and avail genuine advice. This app makes it easier for women to meet, chat, as well as learn from each other.
Features of Peanut App
Peanut offers women with a number of exciting features which makes it even more special for them. Here are some of the best features that the app offers.
October 15, 2020| NPR Staff
From left: Sawsan al-Ramemi of Amman, Jordan, is a mom of two — and expecting her third child. Her husband is working in the U.S. Nienke Pastoor of the Netherlands has been juggling her job as a dairy farmer and helping her four teenagers with their online schoolwork. Jessica Barrera of Eau Claire, Wis., is finding ways to spread joy with her son, Niko, who's a virtual student these days. Nadia Bseiso, Julia Gunther and Lauren Justice for NPR
"When I was growing up, I marveled at how my single mother was able to come home after a long day of work, make dinner, iron our school uniforms and help me and my sister with our homework.
I can't imagine how she would have managed during this pandemic.
What would she have done if she was laid off from her job at the airport? Would she be able to figure out — or afford — virtual school? How would she keep us safe from the virus?
Around the world, mothers have been struggling with these very challenges during the pandemic. We spoke to three mothers who shared how they've been faring: a mom of two in Jordan, expecting her third child and missing the in-person support from family; a dairy farmer with four teenage children — and 165 cows — to look after; and a single mom helping her son, who is on the autism spectrum, find joy in spite of coronavirus restrictions.
Read their stories, check out our special report on 19 women facing the coronavirus crisis — then find out how to nominate a woman to be profiled at the bottom of the story. -- Malaka Gharib"
"Calm And Juggling On A Dairy Farm
The cows rode around the milking carousel, a circular platform lined with 30 individual holding pens that slowly turn clockwise. In each pen, a black and white Holstein or brown and white Montbéliarde waited to be milked.
In the pit below the carousel, 40-year-old Nienke Pastoor stood at udder-height, attaching the milk-extracting pump to each cow as it passed her.
Pastoor, her husband Jaap and Henk, an employee, need just 90 minutes to milk all 165 of the farm's dairy cows.
Pastoor and her husband co-manage a 336-acre dairy farm. One of her many responsibilities is to help run the daily milking operation. She's also the mother of four teenage children; she cooks and cleans; and she manages the farm's books. She regularly gives tours to schoolchildren from the nearby city of Groningen, taking them around the farm and letting them milk the cows by hand.
For a while Pastoor cherished the sudden quiet and freedom that COVID-19 brought to the "Other World": the name given to the remote farming district in the far north of the Netherlands where the Pastoor family have been dairy farmers for 75 years. "We established a strange new family rhythm during the lockdown," she said on a blustery blue-skied afternoon.
The only set routines were the morning and afternoon milking of the cows, and the e-lessons of her children: Thomas, 17, Daniel, 15, and twins Emma and Paulien, 13, who like many students in the Netherlands switched to remote learning in March.
"There was less pressure," she said. "No music lessons or sports games to drive the children to. And because the weather was so nice, life definitely felt a little more relaxed." The only visitors to the farm during the lockdown, which lasted from March 15 till June 2, were the truck drivers who came by three times a week to pick up 3,079 gallons of milk, and the vet who visited every two weeks.
But the pandemic also added new tasks to Pastoor's farm routine. She suddenly had to help the children with their schoolwork. "I made sure they were sitting at their laptops when they were supposed to be. I told them, 'We all have responsibilities in life. I have to do things. And so do you. You make sure the thing you are doing is done on time.' "
The children didn't mind the sudden shift to learning at home. They were able to sleep longer in the mornings as they didn't have to bike to school. The only frustration was the frequent technical glitches — no sound, the teacher's screen not working.
Pastoor was so busy she couldn't do the books for a month. Work kept piling up on the long wooden kitchen table where she normally sits.
"In the end, I had to tell [Jaap and the children] to get out of the kitchen so I could have some time for myself."
"It was difficult being a mother and a farm manager," she said, reflecting on lockdown life. "Everyone expected me to successfully juggle everything."
But dealing with all these responsibilities didn't concern Pastoor. What truly worried her was how she would cope if her husband were to get COVID-19 and succumb to the virus — and she'd be left to manage the farm on her own. "The pandemic really brought that home."
By: Sarah Chorney| September 28, 2020
"Following the birth of her third child, Jorgia Hamel Nevers experienced Postpartum Depression (PPD) for the first time. The 30-year-old from Robeline, Louisiana, identified her symptoms and spoke with her husband, Travis, and a counselor. They informed her doctor during a 6-week postnatal follow-up appointment. He prescribed Zulresso, the first FDA-approved drug designed to treat postpartum depression. It is an IV treatment which can reportedly help patients feel relief from symptoms within 48 hours. Soon, Nevers felt a loving, healthy attachment to her baby River and her 2-year-old and 5-year-old sons again. She decided to share her story because she says she wants women who are experiencing PPD to know that they can speak up, seek treatment and get better. This is her story, as told to PEOPLE.
River was born August 27, 2019. I started having some PPD symptoms a week after her birth. Since she’s my third child, I knew what PPD was from warnings in pregnancy classes I’d previously taken and also from my social work courses. (I’m currently a full-time social work student at Northwestern State University in Natchitoches, Louisiana.) My PPD symptoms showed up as irritated and depressed moods; I wouldn’t get out of bed, had severe anxiety attacks, would cry for no reason and wasn’t feeling a true connection with River or my two sons. On top of that, I felt guilt for what I was experiencing and how it was affecting my family as a whole. I just had a lack of will to do anything at all — except for being alone.
While I experienced the depressive moods and crying in the beginning, it then progressed to the other symptoms. The lack of will was difficult because inside, part of me was still saying, “Get up, take care of your family, do your schoolwork.” But my body just would not move. I felt paralyzed. And as it progressed, I started not to care. I’d think, “River is crying, oh well, Travis will get her. She doesn’t need me anyway,” or “Sammy has something at school for parents to attend, but I don’t want to get up, oh well.”
This is completely the opposite of who I was before PPD. The lack of maternal connection played into the lack of will. At first, I didn’t feel like River was my child. Then I didn’t care anymore about trying to build that bond with her, or to maintain the bond I had with my sons. The anxiety attacks were physically debilitating, in particular. My entire body would tense up, I would cry, I couldn’t breathe, and I was just terrified each time they came. (I had these symptoms until my treatment of Zulresso was completed.)
I had never experienced “baby blues” or PPD with my other two children. After about a month of having symptoms, I told my husband that I felt like something was wrong. I didn’t fully say PPD, just that I wasn’t feeling like myself. Then, a classmate and friend of mine sent a message to check on me. I told her what I was experiencing, and she advised me to see a counselor and tell my doctor. I didn’t want to admit to myself that something was wrong, but I was taking a course about mental health and read about depression symptoms in the Diagnostic Statistical Manual. I sat in my chair and checked off “yes” to almost all of the symptoms listed. That woke me up.
At that point, I decided to tell my professors what was going on, to make a therapy appointment, and to inform my doctor at my routine 6-week checkup. I am lucky that Dr. Olatinwo was involved in the trials for Zulresso. He saw its potential for me.
My physical experience of the treatment involved staying in a hospital room for three days with an IV that administered Zulresso and other fluids. It is a 60-hour infusion, so I had food brought to me and I was checked on every two hours. I watched a lot of Disney+ and just focused on getting better. My husband would also bring me snacks, and he brought River (while the boys were in school and daycare) to the hospital for a visit. I also FaceTimed with them in the evening to say goodnight. After being on the treatment for 30-35 hours, I started feeling better — more like myself. I had the urge to get up and take a shower. I wanted to take care of myself."
Dutch News| August 19, 2020
"Researchers at Amsterdam’s UMC teaching hospital and a number of other institutes have found coronavirus antibodies in the breast milk of women who have tested positive for the virus.
The research team are now looking into whether the milk could be used to prevent coronavirus infections in vulnerable people during an eventual second wave, possibly in the form of flavoured ice cubes.
hey have already found that the antibodies are not destroyed by pasteurising the milk, which is necessary to make it usable by other people.
"We think when drinking the milk, the antibodies attach themselves to the surface of our mucous membranes,’ Hans van Goudoever, head of the Emma children’s hospital at the UMC, said. ‘Then they attack the virus particles before they force their way into the body."
The UMC has now started a campaign to find 1,000 women who are willing to donate 100ml of breast milk for the research project. ‘Women who may have had coronavirus without noticing it may also have made antibodies which can be found in milk,’ Van Goudoever said. ‘So we are looking for mothers who may have been infected as well.’ Even if this turns out not to be the case, their milk can be stored for further research, if they give permission, he said.
Women who want to take part are urged to contact firstname.lastname@example.org."
By Hilda Hutcherson| September 4, 2020
"Often misunderstood and misdiagnosed, PCOS can play havoc with your fertility. Here’s how to recognize the symptoms and take action to protect your reproductive health."
"Caroline’s mother was concerned when she turned 15 and hadn’t had her first period. It finally came, but it wasn’t until three months later that she’d get her second. Her gynecologist assured her that irregular periods were common for someone her age, so Caroline’s mother didn’t worry. Then, at 18, her periods disappeared for six months. This time, her college ob-gyn said that the stress of college often causes menstrual periods to wane, and that the best treatment was hormonal therapy to make her periods regular. So she started taking birth control pills.
Thirteen years later, she was ready to have a baby and stopped taking them, assuming that since she was older and not under as much stress, her periods would become more regular. But they didn’t. She also noticed increased acne and facial hair. After six months of trying unsuccessfully to conceive, she started taking her temperature and using an ovulation predictor kit. Both revealed that she was ovulating infrequently and irregularly. The question was why?
Many women with irregular periods are told it’s no big deal. Even her acne and facial hair didn’t throw up a red flag. Fortunately, tests eventually led to an accurate diagnosis: she had polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), a hormonal disorder that disrupts women’s fertility and may cause a host of other health issues. As many as 15 percent of women between 18 and 45 have PCOS, making it the most common hormonal disorder among women of childbearing age.
For this guide, I reviewed the current literature and interviewed Beth Rackow, M.D., a reproductive endocrinologist and director of the pediatric and adolescent gynecology program at Columbia University Irving Medical Center.
What to do:
Know the signs and symptoms
Polycystic ovary syndrome is a common hormonal disorder among women, yet often goes underdiagnosed by health care providers. Some women have few, if any, symptoms. Others have many — irregular or absent periods, excess facial or body hair growth (hirsutism), obesity and infertility — but they may be mistaken as signs of other health conditions.
Irregular, unpredictable periods are one important symptom. Periods may come twice a month, be infrequent (greater than 35 days apart) or disappear for months at a time. They may be light or they may be heavy enough to cause anemia. You may suspect PCOS if you also have acne that doesn’t respond to treatment or increased growth of facial or body hair. These are signs of excess androgen hormone. Eighty percent of women with hirsutism have PCOS.
PCOS may appear as early as adolescence. “Girls with PCOS typically present when they haven’t had their first period when they should have, their periods are very infrequent or they are having frequent, heavy periods,” said Dr. Rackow.
It’s common for menses to be irregular in girls during the first year or two after the first period. Acne is also common during adolescence. However, if menstrual periods continue to be abnormal after the first two years, or if bleeding is persistently heavy at any time, an evaluation is needed."
By: Ellen S. Glazer, LICSW| February 4, 2020
Most anyone who has struggled with secondary infertility knows that it is an incredibly lonely experience. You may be blessed with one or two children — possibly more — but struggling to expand or complete your family. Surrounded by families with young children, you find yourself alone and in pain.
If you are a veteran of primary infertility, you may remember strategies you developed for shielding yourself from the pregnancies of others. Not so this second time around: pregnant women and moms with babies and toddlers surround you at preschool.
If you had your first child with ease and are new to infertility, you may feel even less equipped to deal with seemingly limitless fecundity. Primary infertility prepared your fellow travelers for the envy, anger, sadness, isolation, and awkwardness it brings. For you these feelings are new, and along with them comes the guilt of secondary infertility: “Why can’t I be happy with the child I have?” Today we’ll focus on ways you can cope with secondary infertility.
The first few steps to coping with secondary infertility
Seek good medical care. If you went through primary infertility, you know the ropes of the world of reproductive medicine. However, if this is all new to you, do not delay in seeking expert help. There is a lot to learn in reproductive medicine. Beginning to understand it may help you feel that you have some control of your situation. Don’t be reluctant to seek a second and even a third opinion — you will learn from each consult, and talking with a few physicians can help land you in the right place.
Try to avoid self-blame. It is tempting to blame yourself. You are a likely target if you feel you waited too long to have a second child, or perhaps blame yourself for not having your first child sooner. If you have two or more children and are struggling to complete your family, you may accuse yourself of greed. Another form of self-blame comes when parents feel they are being punished for not fully appreciating or enjoying the child they have, or worse still, being “bad” parents.
Take charge of the message. Although many people choose to have one child and feel confident with “one and done,” there is often the assumption that a family means two or more children. As a parent of one child, you are likely to frequently encounter the following questions: “Is she your only child?” or “Are you going to have more?”
It helps to figure out a short, direct, and containable message to give anyone who asks about family size. Something like, “We’re hoping to have a larger family, but it’s not been easy for us.” Or “___ is our first child, but we are hoping he/she will have a sibling before too long.”
Additional ways to cope with secondary infertility
Try not to focus on age. Many parents think a lot about the spacing of their children. Secondary infertility derails plans for ideal spacing — whatever that may mean to you. My advice to people is blunt: let it go. I remind clients that close or distant relationships with siblings are not defined by spacing. All of us know adults who cherish their sister or brother 10 or 15 years their junior, but argue constantly with the sibling who is within two years of their age.
By Nina Lakhani in New York| Mon 17 Aug 2020 16.47 EDT
"Black babies have a greater chance of survival when the hospital doctor in charge of their care is also black, according to a new study.
In the US, babies of color face starkly worse clinical outcomes than white newborns.
Earlier research from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) published last year shows that black babies are more than twice as likely to die before reaching their first birthday than white babies, regardless of the mother’s income or education level.
While infant mortality has fallen overall in the past century thanks to improvements in hygiene, nutrition and healthcare, the black-white disparity has grown.
Multiple interrelated factors which contribute to these disparities include structural and societal racism, toxic stress and cumulative socioeconomic disadvantages.
The new study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences suggests the race of the attending doctor also plays an important role.
Researchers reviewed 1.8m hospital birth records in Florida from 1992 to 2015, and established the race of the doctor in charge of each newborn’s care.
When cared for by white doctors, black babies are about three times more likely to die in the hospital than white newborns.
This disparity halves when black babies are cared for by a black doctor.
Strikingly, the biggest drop in deaths occurred in complex births and in hospitals that deliver relatively more black babies, suggesting institutional factors may play a role.
The study found no statistically significant link between the risk of maternal mortality – which is also much higher for black and brown women – and the race of the mother’s doctor.
Why race concordance is so important in black infant mortality requires further research, but it may enhance trust and communication between doctor and mother, and black doctors may be more attuned to social risk factors and cumulative disadvantages which can impact neonatal care, according to Brad Greenwood, lead author from George Mason University in Virginia.
Unconscious racism among white doctors towards black women and their babies may also be at play.
For white newborns, the race of their doctor makes little difference to their chances of survival.
Despite the stark findings, black women seeking a black doctor to minimize the risk to their babies will struggle as the medical workforce remains disproportionately white. Only 5% of doctors are black, according to the Association of American Medical Colleges."
By Tara Haelle| August 16, 2020
"It was the end of the world as we knew it, and I felt fine. That’s almost exactly what I told my psychiatrist at my March 16 appointment, a few days after our children’s school district extended spring break because of the coronavirus. I said the same at my April 27 appointment, several weeks after our state’s stay-at-home order.
Yes, it was exhausting having a kindergartener and fourth grader doing impromptu distance learning while I was barely keeping up with work. And it was frustrating to be stuck home nonstop, scrambling to get in grocery delivery orders before slots filled up, and tracking down toilet paper. But I was still doing well because I thrive in high-stress emergency situations. It’s exhilarating for my ADHD brain. As just one example, when my husband and I were stranded in Peru during an 8.0-magnitude earthquake that killed thousands, we walked around with a first aid kit helping who we could and tracking down water and food. Then I went out with my camera to document the devastation as a photojournalist and interview Peruvians in my broken Spanish for my hometown paper.
Now we were in a pandemic, and I’m a science journalist who has written about infectious disease and medical research for nearly a decade. I was on fire, cranking out stories, explaining epidemiological concepts in my social networks, trying to help everyone around me make sense of the frightening circumstances of a pandemic and the anxiety surrounding the virus.
I knew it wouldn’t last. It never does. But even knowing I would eventually crash, I didn’t appreciate how hard the crash would be, or how long it would last, or how hard it would be to try to get back up over and over again, or what getting up even looked like.
In those early months, I, along with most of the rest of the country, was using “surge capacity” to operate, as Ann Masten, PhD, a psychologist and professor of child development at the University of Minnesota, calls it. Surge capacity is a collection of adaptive systems — mental and physical — that humans draw on for short-term survival in acutely stressful situations, such as natural disasters. But natural disasters occur over a short period, even if recovery is long. Pandemics are different — the disaster itself stretches out indefinitely.
“The pandemic has demonstrated both what we can do with surge capacity and the limits of surge capacity,” says Masten. When it’s depleted, it has to be renewed. But what happens when you struggle to renew it because the emergency phase has now become chronic?"