Agape Doula

Happy St. Patricks Day!

Dropped off flyers for Doula Collective of Idaho to Common Grounds Coffee. Our Sip and Support Event will be there on April 18th!

After a baby is born, there are plenty of people asking about the baby and wanting to hold and love on baby. The number one reason I became a doula was to hold space for mom and dad!

People often think since I am a doula, that I'm strictly supporting home births. That's not the case. All my clients so far have had hospital births and if we are being honest, those are probably the ones that NEED the most support and advocacy. Well, I'm excited to share that I have officially booked my very first homebirth! A water birth even! I am super excited for this opportunity!

One day left! Treasure Valley moms, you don't want to miss this event! Located on Cole/Ustick

One of the best teaching tools I have in my doula bag is......🥁🥁🥁🥁.....

Lifesavers!

Reach out if you are curious to know how I use this!

First of all.....I don't think Jesus was born in December. But, let's go ahead and go over some things about when Jesus is born.

Back then, birthing women had other experienced women helping them, consider them doulas or midwives if you will. However Mary had only Joseph. So, Mary navigated childbirth with little help. She more than likely either laid on the ground where animal f***s was or had been. Or maybe she squatted to give birth. Either way, she was a Rockstar! And her placenta and amniotic fluid may not have been cleaned up either.

Also, Jesus was not laid in a cute wooden trough like nativity scenes show. He was most likely laid in a carved out stone that animals drank or ate from. He truly came into this world humbly. See the picture of what the "manger" mostly looked like.

Merry Christmas, no matter when He was born, let's not ever forget His beginning.

Find a good midwife with these qualities.

"BREAKING: My bipartisan BABES Enhancement Act is now law! 👏 This law is about making it easier for parents to fly with breastmilk and breastfeeding supplies, ensuring TSA keeps its employees up to speed with its own policies and more. Huge win for families." -- Senator Tammy Duckworth

The act, which was signed into law last week, was inspired by aerospace engineer and science communicator Emily Calandrelli's harrowing experience at Los Angeles International Airport, when TSA officers confiscated her partially thawed ice packs during her first work trip away from her 10-week-old son. She was questioned by multiple male agents about why she needed the equipment without her baby present and was ultimately forced to check her items, meaning she couldn't pump before her flight for fear it would spoil. After Calandrelli shared her story on social media, it went viral and prompted hundreds of other moms to share similar experiences.

"I cried in the airport," Calandrelli wrote in an Instagram post detailing her experience three years ago. "I was embarrassed about having to explain breastfeeding to 3 grown men. I felt humiliated and emotional… But guess what? They were wrong. TSA rules specifically state that you are allowed to have gel ice packs (regardless if they are fully frozen!!) for medically necessary purposes. And emptying my breasts on a regular schedule and providing food for my child IS medically necessary."

Calandrelli's difficult experience spurred her into action, leading her to connect with Representatives Katie Porter and Eric Swalwell, both of California, who were passionate about addressing TSA agents' lack of awareness around breastmilk regulations. She also partnered with Chamber of Mothers, a national nonprofit advocating for paid leave, affordable childcare and maternal health, ultimately helping to achieve the unanimous passage of this landmark legislation three years later.

The Bottles and Breastfeeding Equipment Screening (BABES) Enhancement Act became law on November 25, 2025. The legislative effort was led by Tammy Duckworth in the Senate, with Reps. Porter and Swalwell serving as its leading champions in the House. The legislation requires the Transportation Security Administration to strengthen and streamline screening protocols for breast milk, formula, and feeding equipment.

The law mandates that TSA work with third-party maternal organizations to update policies for hygienic handling of breast milk and formula every five years, ensure officers receive enhanced training, and includes a watchdog mechanism to collect data on policy violations and report them to Congress. This addresses a longstanding problem where, despite a 2016 law establishing breast milk and formula as "medically necessary liquids" exempt from standard liquid limits, many parents continued to face inconsistent enforcement and improper handling at security checkpoints.

Celebrating the victory this week, Calandrelli thanked the countless parents who shared their stories and pushed for change, telling them that "your calls and advocacy matter (and they work!)"

Kudos to everyone who made this new law protecting breastfeeding mothers a reality!

One way to reduce harassment about breastfeeding is to normalize nursing. For a sweet plush toy that allows kids to explore how a mama cat feeds her babies, check out the Nursing Nina plush for ages 2 to 6 which comes with three kittens that latch on thanks to kid-safe magnets at https://www.amightygirl.com/nursing-nina-cat

For a bestselling body book for younger kids that describes breastfeeding, as well as bottle-feeding, as normal ways to feed a baby, we recommend "It's Not the Stork!: A Book About Girls, Boys, Babies, Bodies, Families and Friends" for ages 4 to 8 at https://www.amightygirl.com/it-s-not-the-stork

For a practical guide for tween girls about breast health, we recommend "Taking Care of Your 'Girls': A Breast Health Guide for Girls, Teens, and In-Betweens" for ages 10 and up at https://www.amightygirl.com/taking-care-of-your-girls

To inspire children and teens with stories of real-life girls and women who fought for change throughout history, visit our blog post, "50 Books About Women Who Fought for Change," at https://www.amightygirl.com/blog?p=14364

To read more about Emily Calandrelli's experience and the new law, visit https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/family-relationships/article/she-felt-humiliated-by-tsa-now-her-viral-ordeal-is-helping-other-breastfeeding-moms-140025617.html

The doctor who saved a generation of children did it by saying one simple word: no.
When the sedative thalidomide swept through Europe in the late 1950s, it was praised as safe, modern, and perfect for easing morning sickness. Drug companies rushed to expand its market, and by 1960 an American manufacturer submitted it to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration for approval. The file landed on the desk of a medical officer named Dr. Frances Oldham Kelsey.
She had just started at the FDA one month earlier, in August 1960. She was one of only seven full-time physicians reviewing drugs for the entire agency. The thalidomide application was supposed to be an easy first assignment—a routine approval for a drug already widely used in more than twenty European and African countries. Her supervisors expected her to sign off quickly.
Instead, she stopped everything.
Kelsey noticed gaps in the company's testing data, especially regarding pregnant women. Their claims of safety did not match the evidence. Animal studies were weak. Human trials were incomplete. The testimonials submitted weren't scientific studies—they were marketing materials. And some reports from Europe hinted at nerve damage in patients who took the drug long-term.
The pharmaceutical company, Richardson-Merrell, expected approval before December. They had already stocked warehouses with ten million tablets, ready to flood the American market during the holiday season when sedative sales peaked. They were planning to make a fortune.
But Frances Kelsey had questions. She asked for more data.
The company pushed back. Hard.
Under the law at that time, the FDA could only withhold approval for sixty days at a time before a drug automatically went to market. So every sixty days, Kelsey requested more information. Every sixty days, she found the new data inadequate. Every sixty days, she refused to sign.
Richardson-Merrell executives were furious. Sales representatives crowded into her office. They called her phone day and night. Over eighteen months, company officials contacted her and her supervisors approximately fifty separate times, demanding approval. They complained bitterly. They tried to go over her head. They called her names she later said "you wouldn't print."
The pressure was relentless. The company insisted the drug was completely safe. After all, it was impossible to give animals a lethal dose—how could it be dangerous? Millions of Europeans were taking it without problems. Why was this one junior medical officer holding up a wonder drug over technicalities?
But Kelsey held her ground. Her supervisors, to their immense credit, stood by her.
She had good reason to be cautious. Years earlier, as a young pharmacology researcher at the University of Chicago, she had studied how pregnant rabbits metabolized quinine differently than adult rabbits—and how the drug crossed the placental barrier to affect developing embryos. That research stayed with her. When she saw the claims about thalidomide's safety in pregnancy, she wondered: had anyone actually tested what happened when the drug crossed into a developing fetus?
The answer was no. Nobody had.
In December 1960, Kelsey read a letter in a British medical journal reporting cases of peripheral neuritis—nerve damage causing tingling and numbness in hands and feet—in patients who had taken thalidomide long-term. Another warning sign. She asked Richardson-Merrell for follow-up studies on nerve effects and fetal development.
They sent more testimonials instead of data.
She kept refusing.
During that same period, something terrible was happening in Europe. Doctors began noticing a surge of babies born with shocking deformities. Severe limb abnormalities. Arms and legs grotesquely shortened or missing entirely. Hands sprouting directly from shoulders like flippers. Internal organs improperly developed. Eyes, ears, and hearts malformed.
At first, no one understood why. The cases seemed isolated, scattered across different hospitals and countries. Then the pattern became impossible to ignore. The mothers had all taken thalidomide during early pregnancy—specifically between the twentieth and thirty-sixth day after conception, the critical window when limbs and organs form.
A German pediatrician named Widukind Lenz made the connection in November 1961. An Australian obstetrician, William McBride, reached the same horrifying conclusion independently. When they published their findings, the medical world reeled in shock.
Thalidomide was causing catastrophic birth defects.
More than ten thousand children were affected across forty-six countries. About half died shortly after birth. The survivors faced lifetimes of profound disability. Thousands more pregnancies ended in miscarriage or stillbirth. The numbers were staggering. The images were heartbreaking.
Germany pulled the drug from the market in November 1961. Britain followed in December. Other countries scrambled to do the same. But the damage was done. An entire generation of children had been harmed by a drug marketed as perfectly safe.
In the United States, something remarkable happened: almost nothing.
Because Frances Kelsey had refused to approve thalidomide for general sale, it never reached American pharmacy shelves. Richardson-Merrell had distributed experimental samples to about twelve hundred physicians during their clinical trial program—approximately 2.5 million tablets given to nearly twenty thousand patients, several hundred of whom were pregnant. That illegal distribution resulted in seventeen confirmed cases of birth defects and dozens more suspected.
Seventeen American children harmed—a tragedy, but not a catastrophe.
Thousands of European children harmed—because their regulators had approved the drug without adequate testing.
The difference was one woman's refusal to accept insufficient evidence.
When news of the European tragedy broke in the United States in mid-1962, Americans realized what had been avoided. A Washington Post reporter named Morton Mintz wrote a front-page story hailing Kelsey as a heroine who had prevented "the birth of hundreds or indeed thousands of armless and legless children."
Public outcry was immediate and intense. People were horrified by what they saw happening in Europe. They were grateful for what hadn't happened in America. And they were angry that a drug company had tried so hard to force an inadequately tested medication onto the market.
On August 7, 1962, President John F. Kennedy presented Frances Kelsey with the President's Award for Distinguished Federal Civilian Service—the highest honor the United States can bestow upon a civilian federal employee. She was only the second woman ever to receive it. Kennedy praised her exceptional judgment in evaluating the drug's safety and her role in averting a major tragedy of birth deformities in the United States.
The ceremony took place at the White House. Flash bulbs popped. Cameras rolled. For someone who had spent over a year quietly doing her job—asking questions, demanding evidence, refusing to be bullied—the attention was overwhelming.
But the story didn't end with an award. Kelsey's stand sparked sweeping changes in American drug regulation.
In October 1962, Congress unanimously passed the Kefauver-Harris Amendment, fundamentally transforming how drugs were tested and approved in the United States. For the first time, pharmaceutical companies had to prove not just that drugs were safe, but that they actually worked. They had to report adverse reactions to the FDA. They had to obtain informed consent from patients participating in clinical trials. Testing standards became far more rigorous. Oversight became far stronger. Protections for pregnant women and vulnerable populations became law.
Frances Kelsey helped write and enforce those new regulations. She was appointed to head the FDA's Investigational Drug Branch, the division responsible for implementing the reforms. Later, she led the Division of Scientific Investigations, which inspected clinical trial sites to ensure data integrity. Her team earned the nickname "Kelsey's cops" for their rigorous oversight.
She spent the rest of her career making sure that what almost happened with thalidomide could never happen again. She became a formidable gatekeeper, scrutinizing other suspect drugs and establishing ethical standards for drug testing. She worked to protect the public health with the same quiet determination she had shown in 1960.
Kelsey retired from the FDA in 2005 at the age of ninety, after forty-five years of service. She had fundamentally changed how drugs are developed, tested, and approved—not just in America, but around the world. Countries everywhere strengthened their regulatory systems in response to the thalidomide tragedy and the American example.
In 2010, the FDA established the Dr. Frances O. Kelsey Award for Excellence and Courage in Protecting Public Health, naming it after her. She returned to the agency at age ninety-six to receive the first award. She moved to Canada to live with her daughter in 2014. On August 7, 2015—exactly fifty-three years after receiving the medal from President Kennedy—she died peacefully at age 101.
Frances Oldham Kelsey never made a groundbreaking discovery. She never invented a lifesaving device. She never developed a cure.
What she did was refuse to accept inadequate evidence. She asked questions when everyone else wanted quick approval. She demanded proof when proof didn't exist. She withstood pressure from powerful corporations and held firm to her scientific standards.
She proved that courage in science is not always about discovery or innovation. Sometimes courage is the quiet insistence on doing things right. Sometimes it's the refusal to compromise on safety. Sometimes it's the willingness to say no and mean it, even when saying yes would be easier.
Her decision saved thousands of American families from devastating heartbreak. Her example shaped modern medicine. Her legacy protects every person who takes a prescription drug today.
All because one doctor understood that the most important word in medicine isn't yes.
Sometimes, it's no.