My story is part of the Blog carnival organised by World Milksharing Week, to celebrate World Milksharing Week 2013. Click here to read more stories about milksharing. If you’d like to participate too, please visit this page.

When I was pregnant with my first child I learnt about how amazing breastmilk was. It’s pretty much liquid gold. I was determined to breastfeed. To my distress, things didn't go as planned.  Due to many factors, my son Sol was given formula within 6 hours of birth, and although I did everything within my knowledge at the time Sol was fully formula-fed from six weeks.  Failure to breastfeed long-term traumatised me on many levels. Many people didn't understand this – I was told by many “formula’s fine, he’ll be fine”, which of course it was, and he is. But this attitude undermined and invalidated my grief. Yes, formula’s “fine”, but it is not what babies were born to consume, and science indicates that the detrimental effects are numerous.  (For example, it is estimated that the U.S. might save $13 billion in healthcare and other costs annually, and save over 900 babies a year if 90% if babies were exclusively breastfed for six months.)  Breast isn't best, it's normal.

When I was pregnant with my daughter last year I devoured every book I could find on breastfeeding.  I spent a lot of time researching, understanding and finding support in my community so that I knew I had done everything I could to breastfeed my next baby.  I learnt about the many things that did and did not happen in Sol’s first few days and weeks that contributed to him not being a breastfed baby. During this time I also learnt about breastmilk sharing.  The World Health Organisation and UNICEF support donor human milk as the first alternative where mother's milk is not available. I decided that should I need to supplement my milk, I would do my best to find my baby human milk. 

Everything about Nina’s birth was wonderful (birth story here). She even did a breast crawl and latched herself on. I was in awe of her, my amazing beautiful baby. But after that first feed, I had a painful blister on my nipple. Luckily I had a fantastic midwife and she diagnosed a tongue-tie immediately.  (I was later to find out Sol is also tongue-tied, which goes a long way in explaining why he never suckled and had trouble with a bottle). Thus began a journey that involved much blood (my nipples), travel (Wellington and Hamilton for Nina’s tongue laser surgery), many many sleepless nights as poor Nina tried to drink with severely restricted tongue mobility, and many many tears (hers and mine in equal parts!). By day 10 Nina had not gained enough weight and we were faced with the prospect of formula.  In tears, I told my midwife that I wanted to try and find human milk for Nina. I knew the effects of non-human milk on an infant gut, and I wanted to do all I could to avoid that.  My wonderful midwife fully supported this decision.

I posted a request for breast milk on my local parenting group Facebook page and within 20 minutes I had offers of milk from a number of women. At that point I sat on the couch crying at the sheer generosity and amazingness of people. My husband sat with me and was similarly amazed and overwhelmed at this community of mamas. Within two hours a very special woman arrived with over a litre of breastmilk. That was a really emotional moment for me, and in fact every time we had a delivery of frozen bags of milk I got teary with gratitude. I also reached out to the Eats on Feets Aotearoa community, who were similarly incredibly supportive.  A wonderful side-effect of milk sharing are the beautiful connections I made with many women.

Throughout the time we were supplementing with donor milk I was worried about “nipple confusion” so I avoided using a bottle and fed Nina the donor milk through a supplementary nursing system.  This had the added bonus of extra time at my breast, further stimulating my milk supply.  It took 13 weeks, and my milk combined with five superstar milk-mamas until we got the tongue-tie sorted and I was able to exclusively breastfeed Nina.  We’re still going strong at 11.5 months and she has still never had any formula.  Going beyond the nutritional benefits of breastmilk, I feel just so grateful to have experienced the simplicity and beauty of a breastfeeding dyad. My body responding to Nina and her needs in the most simple and perfect way. Watching her eyes roll back in pure drunken happiness as the milk fills her belly is one of my life’s most beautiful moments. Now that she is older, I love her ways of communicating to me that she needs milk, and the delighted grin on her face afterwards as she toddles away. She looks round the room grinning delightedly at everyone who will look at her, as if to say “that was DELICIOUS!”

People have started to ask me when we are going to stop breastfeeding. I tell them to ask Nina.  She is still a huge fan, so I don’t think it will be any time soon.  The World Health Organisation recommends that children are breastfed for a minimum of two years.  I am immensely proud that we have made it this far together and I love the idea of full-term breastfeeding and Nina choosing when she is ready to wean.  (Oddly enough I still feel anxious putting that dream out there in to the universe, as it I still can't quite believe we have made it this far!)

When I was receiving donor milk for Nina, I imagined one day being able to donate my milk to other babies in need. I am not sure I ever believed that day would come. But it has, and I feel so emotional packaging up my precious packs of frozen gold, ready to nurture another baby. 

I am thankful for the vocal and passionate supporters of breastfeeding and breastmilk sharing.  I am thankful for the oodles of research readily available showing the detrimental effects of non-human milk on babies.  Knowing this meant I was that much more determined to fight the fight for Nina.  I wish I had known this much when Sol was first born. I am thankful for my family and friends for their breastfeeding wisdom, support and cheerleading. I am grateful to my wonderful midwives and lactation consultants who believed in Nina and I, even when I didn’t, and gave me so much knowledge, skill and support.   And most of all I am so grateful to Nina’s five Milk-Mamas who selflessly gave up their time and energy to pump their precious milk to nurture Nina.  It is hard to put into words how much this meant to us. We love you!  Milk-sharing absolutely epitomises the saying “it takes a village to raise a child”, and I know that Nina is growing up in one awesome village.

EDIT:
A few people have emailed me to ask about donating milk and how to go about doing this. If you are in a position to do this, I highly encourage you to do so. It's hard to put into words how much the donated milk meant to us, it is such a beautiful gift to give. Here are some links to check out:

• If you are in the Manawatu, New Zealand, I have started a local milk-sharing community - Manawatu Milky Mamas. Whether you have milk to spare, can wetnurse or you just generally support milksharing, do come join us!
• Eats On Feets - international site
• Human Milk for Human Babies (HM4HB) - international site
• Eats on Feets NZ - NZ Facebook page where you can offer milk directly
• Human Milk 4 Human Babies NZ - NZ Facebook page where you can offer milk directly

I have fond memories of my collection of childhood toys - wooden blocks, Big Ted, My Little Pony, the Cindy doll my parents bought me (instead of the Barbie I REALLY wanted), Lego, railway tracks... And nowadays I enjoy sometimes escaping into the imaginary world with my four-year-old boy and his collection of treasured toys.  I read about the toys on offer for kids, I see kids playing with toys and the students I work with tell me about the toys that are and were important in their lives.  

There is a lot of writing about the highly gendered and also sexualised nature of many childhood toys these days, but on Friday I suddenly realised that I could count on one hand the number of times I have been in a toy store since entering adulthood.  Inspired by other writers, I decided it was time to hit the front-line. What was on offer for New Zealand children? Was it as bad as it was in the USA? (where much of the research I read comes from) And what are the 'good' options out there?

Armed with my camera, I entered our local toy store (one of a nationwide chain).  And thus began an hour of walking up and down every aisle, taking note and photographing the good, the bad and the plain downright ridiculous. 

Into 'GIRL ZONE'

As soon as we found out that I was pregnant we told our three-year-old son Sol about the pregnancy and he has been involved in the midwife appointments and lots of excited talk about our new baby. He recently accompanied us to the 20-week ultrasound scan.

After the radiographer had done all the important measurements and observations, she got to the least important part – finding the vulva or the penis.  While she was looking for that part of our baby’s body she said to me:
“Ouhhh, you’ll soon know if you’ll have to be buying a pink tutu!”

(I am sure my husband smothered a laugh at this point. I refrained from launching into a tirade about gender stereotyping and the findings of various neurological studies on babies and gender.)

As it turns out, we spotted a vulva. 

And I realised that, at 20 weeks gestation this wee girl had already experienced her first gender stereotyping. 

It isn’t that pink tutus violently offend me, it’s that there was an assumption that if my baby had a vulva, then a pink tutu would be the most important thing on my mind, and that her vulva would automatically predispose her to an uncontrollable urge to wear pink tutus.  

Who knows, she could be an absolute ballet fanatic, in which case I am sure our house will be loaded with tutus of all description. Or she could be a soccer player, a hip-hop dancer, a chess-genius, a swimmer... - in which case we may have no pink tutus at all.  Or maybe she’ll have stages of being all of the above, and our already-cluttered house will have a collection of all sorts of outfits in all sorts of colours.

All I know is that I will do everything in my Mama-Bear power to protect her from the tirade of gender-limiting stereotypes that I know will attempt to surround her from birth (and before!). All of a sudden I am deeply grateful on a personal level for the amazing work done to counter such attitude by individuals and organisations such as Enlighten Education, Pigtail Pals, Pink Stinks and 7Wonderlicious. 

And I will leave you with the wisdom of little Riley, who articulates the craziness of all this stuff just so so well:

Dressed in a slinky red evening gown with long blonde hair, lengthy dark eye-lashes, sultry eyes and immaculate make up, Sasha Bennington looks every bit the glamour model ready to strut down the catwalk or pose for a fashion magazine cover.   But Sasha is eleven; strip away the makeup and the sexy clothes, she is a little girl lost. 

Following on from Tuesday's 'Baby Beauty Queens' on 60 Minutes, last night 20/20 featured young Sasha and her family (from Manchester, UK).  They were interviewed about Sasha’s “career” and their aspirations for her. It was a disturbing episode.  With hundreds of dollars spent on her beauty regime every month, Sasha’s mother dreams of her daughter's future celebrity status – “I want Sasha to get every opportunity she can”.   She seems to pay her daughter the ultimate compliment as she describes her looking “like one of those little Cindy dolls you play with”.

After Sasha's mother described her daughter as confident and talented, when asked to describe herself, Sasha says “Three words to describe myself? – pretty, blonde, dumb... I am stupid”, followed by inane laughing of mother and daughter.  Sasha later points out that “I don’t need a brain”.

I acknowledge that such “current events” TV shows do often highlight the freaks and absurdities in our society, and I predict that the overwhelming majority of people who viewed this in NZ last night would share my views.  Examples such as Sasha Bennington are the extreme: However, for many girls and young women growing up today, there is a similar pressure to achieve the looks and body of the models that surround us in magazines, TVs and billboards.

It seems in many circles, the backlash against beauty contests, begun by the feminists in the 70s has well and truly turned full-circle.  With our society obsessed with reality TV shows, offering the average punter their chance of “fame” and “making it”, is it any wonder that we are now seeing a resurgence in the popularity of beauty contests? For parents, they are the ideal training ground for such shows as Next Top Model, Idol etc.  Sasha's take on it: “Like, 20 years ago, people cared about careers and stuff, but now it’s what you look like”.

Such child beauty contests have not made it to NZ (that I am aware of), but a part of me thinks it is only a matter of time.  I hope I am wrong.

In the words of Kahlil Gibran, “beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart”.  Child beauty pageants and all that surround them kill that light in the heart. 

We have mothers’ day, we have grandparents’ day, we have children’s day and we have teachers’ day.  The proliferation of such days does get me a little cynical at times, but asides from the commercial aspect; they are all positive, loving days designed to honour a group in our community.  

This Friday we have ‘Hug-a-Ginga’ day, which seems to me to be to be a radio station’s big marketing stunt. Not being a commercial radio station listener, or a red-head, I hadn’t given much attention to this day in previous years.  But this year the ‘Hug-a-Ginga’ concept has attracted a bigger debate, and this got me thinking.

To me, ‘Hug-a-Anybody’ day gives the notion that this group is not used to being hugged, that on this one day of the year we should try and extend some charity and bless them with our sympathy. Transpose ‘ginga’ with any of the following: Pakeha, Maori, Fattie,  Asian, Gay...  you see my point.

Is 'gingerism' the last acceptable prejudice?

My adult red-headed friends take this day in good nature and play along and enjoy the comedy aspect and the extra attention.  And I think this was probably how the day was intended to be ‘celebrated’.  But my concern is for children. Red-headed kids cop more than their fair share of teasing as it is. Children ostracise those with differences and it is made worse when adults (indeed, media celebrities) are sanctioning and encouraging this bullying.    

This Friday, red-headed kids will have to play along with the ‘Hug-a-Ginga’ concept, or risk being further ostracised. I personally would feel violated if someone hugged me uninvited out of pity and charity. (And in schools, I can’t imagine many of these ‘Hug-a-Ginga’ acts will come from a position of love).   With a bullying culture a real problem in most of our schools and a horrific youth suicide rate, is the promotion of prejudice based on genetics and the promotion of bullying based on hair colour really something to celebrate?

Last week a group of 9 & 10 year old girls gyrating their way through a sexy dance performance horrified many, me included. 

The girls are obviously talented dancers, but the sexy skimpy black lacy outfits combined with the provacative dance moves amount to a degrading and totally inappropriate performance.

Facing widespread criticism, the girls parents have defended their daughters' performance:

"The costumes are designed for movement and to show bodylines..."

This interview makes the whole episode that much sadder for me.  The parents seem to have missed the point entirely.  As Danielle Miller, in the clip below points out, these girls are actually more scantily clad than Beyonce was in the original music video. 

I think one issue that this interview with the parents raises is how public our lives have become.  Whereever your children are, whatever they are doing, there is a chance that their activities are being videoed and that this video could end up on the world wide web.

If these girls had performed this dance a few years ago, it's highly unlikely anyone except the attendees would ever have seen it. However, it's 2010 and someone videoed the performance, put on YouTube and it went viral - it's now been viewed over 2 million times.   The saturation of technology in our lives and the ease at which information can be spread across the world means that as parents we have to be ever more vigilant about protecting our children against exploitation.

Some people claim to have bad memories.  But asked if there is one memory that sticks right there as vividly as it were yesterday, many people define it as that moment they learnt about sex.  It's interesting asking adults about the moment they learnt what sex was.  Everyone’s experience is so different and more often than not, it is a memory tinged with laughter and nostalgia.  Unfortunately for others, it is surrounded by shame and secrecy.  For me, I am lucky it is the former.  And here is my story.

I grew up in the country and attended a wonderful little village school that was like an extended family. These were such happy days and the presence of media and advertising rarely penetrated. Multi-coloured king-fu shoes were about the height of fashion awareness: functional clothes ruled. We gained status from how fast we could run and how long we could reign champion at four square or padder tennis. My parents had grown up in the city and were determined to experience all manner of menagerie on our 3 acre block – chickens, donkeys, goats, sheep, calves, ducks... and we kids were witness to mating, births, deaths and even vet students castrating our pet donkey (the operation photographed in graphic detail by my Dad and placed in the family photo album).  In light of this, my naivety around sex was astonishing.

When I was nine my parents casually gave me the seminal tome “Where Did I Come From?” and I duly opened the pages.  The book is filled with pictures of  a nude couple who bath and then hop into bed together.  The text tells you that sex is a really tight hug that makes you wiggle. Then something happens that feels like a sneeze, "but much better."  I was horrified.  People do THAT with each other? I just couldn’t believe that this was how babies were made!. Even worse, I had a younger brother and sister, so my parents had done this THREE TIMES! 

Later my parents and I sat down in the lounge to expand on the conversation.  They were open and keen to chat, but I was gob-smacked: All I could express was disgust.  I think my Dad found my horror amusing and possibly a bit over the top and must have attributed this to the fact that I actually knew all along what was happening. He kept telling me it was OK if I had known already – as I sat there shaking my head in horror. Dad even asked me what I thought was happening when we took our lady goats to the man goat every autumn – I replied that I just thought they loved to jump round with new goats for fun.  

Not long after this discussion with my parents, the topic came up amongst my group of girlfriends at school.  We had all recently found out about the ‘facts of life’, and im hushed tones we were discussing it amongst ourselves ior the first time.  My main memory of this conversation was how we all agreed how awful the concept of sex was. Then one friend realised in horror: Oh but I want to have children but I could never ever ever do THAT!  We all nodded in agreement, the weight of the world on our shoulders.  With heavy hearts we all made a pact that we would all have to adopt. I am still in contact with many of these friends and luckily I think we have all since broken that pact!

I would love to hear your story!

Discussing relationships is an important part of the sexuality education I teach.  Young people are always eager to discuss the different social norms and expectations.  It is also a topic that most parents approach with trepidtation.  I have just watched this instructional video from 1951 about  "what to do on a date"... 

I viewed this video with a smile on my face, sighs of "how sweet" and thoughts of how lovely and simple things were back then.... Back to reality: there were just as many nerves and broken hearts as there are now.  Teen pregnancy was common, it was just hidden in barbaric ways. Or young people were forced into marriages they didn’t want. Sexually transmitted infections were present, they were just hugely stigmatised and rarely treated.

The risks of heartbreak, pregnancy and disease that were present in 1951 are still there now, but nearly fifty years on, these risks are magnified and that 'benchmark' age when children are exposed to these risks is becoming ever-lower.  The concept of childhood is becoming increasingly short. - in 1951 the marketing concept of 'tween' had not been invented.  The behavioural expectations of late-teens in 1951 are the behavioural expectations being thrust upon our pre-teens now.  

The tween phenomena has children wearing makeup, high-heels and parents taking them along to waxing salons.  They hear it on TV, YouTube and social networking sites. This sexualisation of our children naturally leads to an early curiosity about sex and relationships. 

In order to be prepared for these pressures it is crucial that our young people are able to make safe decisions that will keep them happy and ensure their well-being.  They need their parents support in this. 

More than ever, parents need to have the knowledge and confidence to be able to discuss sexuality and relationships with their children.  Many parents say to me “oh but my child has no interest/no idea/no awareness about anything to do with sexuality.”  This may be true, but their classmates are, and their classmates are talking. I posit it to the parents: if your child is not talking to you, they are talking to someone else and getting their information from them.  What would you prefer? It’s never too early to start this ongoing conversation: make sure you don’t leave it a moment longer.

I love playing dress-ups; putting on a costume and becoming someone else for a while.  As a girl, I remember finding great delight stomping round the house in Mum’s high-heels, her flowery skirts billowing up under my arms and beads trailing on the floor.  Sometimes we’d pull on her old swimsuits and sarongs and pretend to be ladies at the beach.  We were playing: we knew that those clothes weren’t little girls’ clothes.  

But the line between women’s fashion and girls fashion is blurred these days as the fashion industry has realised that young children are ripe targets for their marketing.  The ‘girls’ fashion’ industry has boomed and has resulted in girls’ fashion simply being smaller sized versions of what teenagers and women are wearing.  At face value, this doesn’t seem something we need to be concerned about.  However when this means that lacy lingerie, sexy jeans and high heels are now seen in the ‘girls’ clothes section, I feel horrified.   

Yesterday, UK clothing chain store Primark withdrew from sale its range of padded bikini tops for girls as young as seven, following widespread criticism and outrage. The $4 bikini sets have been available in candy pink with gold stars and black with white polka dots.  (Side note: Why do pre-pubescent girls need to wear bikinis anyway? In Europe I noticed most girls in similar swimming attire as boys until puberty – this made sense to me).

Primark has apologised to customers for "causing offence" and said it would donate profits to a children's charity.  The company refused to discuss the bikini's padding but an anonymous source “familiar with the product said the extra fabric was designed to preserve a girl's modesty and prevent any signs of a developing breast from showing through”.  ‘Preserve a girl’s modesty’!!!  What an oxymoron. By tying a padded bra on them? Need I say more. Even more saddening, this comment furthers the attitude that somehow girls developing bodies are somehow shameful.

A number of UK politicians have condemned Primark for stocking such a bikini and several people have referred to the bikini as the “paedo-bikini.”    But this phrase seems to be implicating girls for the behaviour of paedophiles, which in turn minimises the blame on the perpetrator.  Girls and the clothes they wear are not to blame for paedophilia: paedophiles are to blame for paedophilia.

As the American Psychological Association (2007) report on the sexualisation of girls stated, "If girls purchase - or ask their parents to purchase - products and clothes designed to make them look physically appealing and sexy, and if they style their identities after the sexy celebrities who populate their cultural landscape, they are, in effect, sexualising themselves."

Mumsnet (UK) have launched a Let Girls Be Girls campaign.  This campaign asks retailers to pledge not to sell products that prematurely sexualise children.  They have an excellent list of reasons why we all should be worried about the sexualisation of girls clothing:

• It introduces children to the world of adult sexuality, when elsewhere we are rightly encouraging them to resist the pressure to become sexually active at a young age

• It tells girls that the most important quality they need is 'sexiness' and that female sexuality is all about pleasing others

• It encourages a culture in which children are viewed as sexually available

What a worthy campaign. Perhaps we need a similar one here in New Zealand?  Both Jay Jays and Cotton On have had clothing lines withdrawn after public outcry.  Recently I saw a young girl (age 10-ish) in a white t-shirt with the play boy bunny plastered across her prepubescent chest. And I sadly noted that even 'My Little Pony' has sexy 'come hither' over-the-top eye makeup. (Please comment on examples of sexualised clothing produced for children that you are aware of).

The upside to the Primark bikini debacle is that the  media outrage has been universal. No one is suggesting that on any level are these bikinis acceptable.   Let's take this opportunity to  take a stand against the companies marketing sexualised clothing. On a personal level let's ensure that we all consciously clothe our children: they are children and they don't deserve to be sexualised.

I was navigating the supermarket yesterday, toddler in tow, chatting about all the products we were passing. A constant commentary of the products, decisions about what milk to buy, what colour the bananas are.  Inane chatter to an outsider, but I love these outings with my son as he learns all about the world.  We read the signs and I wonder aloud whether we need venture down that aisle. We see the ‘fish’ sign, we see the ‘beverages’ sign. We talk about the ‘baking goods’ sign and how we like to bake muffins at home.  Then we come to the ‘feminine hygiene’ sign.   I had passed such signs countless times before, but with a toddler soaking up all there is to learn, suddenly language has a whole new meaning and importance to me.  My chatter is halted for a second - “feminine hygiene”? – and I am not sure how to explain these words.

To give my son a literal explanation, it seems that females must need products to sanitise themselves.  Through a young child’s eyes, I look at the marketing – ahh, feminine hygiene products – these must make women don white leotards and dance, put on a skimpy bikini and run through waves, throw on high heels, skinny jeans and grab a microphone.  And some have wings! Maybe women can fly after all!  As I took a moment to ponder this, my son pointed at the ‘sanitary products’ and yelled out in delight “Mummy’s nappies!”  I laughed and agreed - “Those are for women to use when they have their periods”.  I could almost feel the man beside us scampering past all these ‘sanitary products’ reel in horror.

I was recently alerted to a new advertising campaign by US tampon brand ’Kotex’.  According to Mr. Meurer, of Kotex - “We’re changing our brand equity to stand for truth and transparency and progressive vaginal care.”  Wow, ‘progressive vaginal care’ – the mind boggles!  But thumbs up to them for attempting to ‘get real' in their advertising for their products, by mocking the traditional way that menstruation products are advertised.    The advertisement opens with a woman declaring she loves her period, followed by “Sometimes I just want to run on a beach... Usually, by the third day, I really just want to dance... The ads on TV are really helpful because they use that blue liquid, and I’m like, ‘Oh, that’s what’s supposed to happen.’ ” The dialogue is illustrated by clips that had been used in previous Kotex advertisements, furthering the irony of the whole thing.

But thumbs down to US television networks who, after viewing the original advertisement, barred the use of the word 'vagina'.  Even a revised version, which referred to “down there” was deemed too explicit.   To quote blogger Amanda Hess, "Now, the commercial contains no direct references to female genitalia—you know, the place where the fucking tampon goes."

The way society frames language shapes the way we feel about things, talk about things. The language we use imposes a particular view of the world. The view promoted by the language of ‘feminine sanitary products’ is that women are dirty and need to buy things to sanitise themselves.  Are women’s bodies and their natural cycles really that scary?   I am not advocating graphic photography here, but can we not at least acknowledge what the tampons are for?  Is the word ‘vagina’ really that offensive?  I hope Kodex’s new approach to tampon advertising marks the beginning of a change in the language we use around menstruation.   I can't help but think of all the out-there products advertising 'penile erectile dysfunction'.  

I think again of the world through my child’s eyes.  If his sexuality education was left to the media, he’d grow up assuming that women need to buy ‘feminine hygiene products’ in order to wear tight white spandex and dance, or play beach volleyball in skimpy bikinis.  He’d also think the ‘products’ were to clean up that funny blue stuff.  But for now I am my son’s teacher, and I can filter most of this stuff for him.  I dance most days, regardless of what day in my cycle it is, and I most certainly never wear white spandex.   

As soon as we found out that I was pregnant, we told our three-year-old son Sol about my pregnancy and involved him in all the midwife appointments. He recently accompanied us to the 20-week scan.

After the radiographer had done all the important measurements and observations, she got to the least important part – finding the vulva or the penis.  As she was looking for that part of our baby’s body she said to me “Ouhhh, you’ll soon know if you’ll have to be buying a pink tutu!”

(I am sure my husband smothered a laugh at this point. I refrained from launching into a tirade about gender stereotyping and the findings of various neurological studies on babies and gender.)

As it turns out, we spotted a vulva. 

And I realised that, at 20 weeks gestation this wee girl had already experienced her first gender stereotyping. 

It isn’t that pink tutus violently offend me. It's that there was an assumption that if my baby had a vulva, then buying a pink tutu would be the most important consideration and that her vulva would automatically predispose her to an uncontrollable urge to wear pink tutus.  Who knows, perhaps she will be an absolute ballet fanatic, in which case I am sure our house will be loaded with tutus of all description. Or she could be a soccer player, a hip-hop dancer, a chess-genius, a swimmer... - in which case we may have no pink tutus at all.  Or maybe she’ll have stages of being all of the above, and our already cluttered house will have a collection of all sorts of outfits in all sorts of colours.

All I do know is that I will do everything in my Mama-Bear power to protect my daughter from all the gender-limiting stereotypes that will attempt to smother her from birth (and before!). Suddenly I am hugely grateful on a personal level to those dedicated organisations and people who are out there campaigning on behalf of our girls - Enlighten Education, 7Wonderlicious, Pigtail Pals Ballcap Buddies, Pink Stinks and many more. 

I will leave you with little Riley, who articulates my feelings just so well: