Sixteen dancers come on stage carrying gold canes and arrayed in reds, blues, purples and pinks with jingling coin hip scarfs. They are all races, shapes and sizes, but they are not all ages: the oldest is eleven and the youngest is four. This is Happy Hips Youth Oriental Dance Troupe, veteran belly dancers who have performed at benefits, museums and festivals as well as local and regional haflas, the term for belly dance parties or shows.

Happy Hips founder, Terri Allred did not set out to become Sadiya, professional belly dancer and instructor. At Vanderbilt University, she completed a theological studies masters in feminist theology with a focus on how people who experience trauma interpret it and give it meaning. Terri ran rape crisis centers and lectured internationally on the relationship between sexual violence and belief systems.

J&J recalls infants', children's liquid Tylenol.

A full list of the recalled products can be found at Tylenol.com.

I'm writing this today, not because I see myself as a political activist, but because our daughter lives with an on-going, critical need for healthcare, and because I want everyone to be able to put a face to the idea of healthcare reform. And what better face than our goofy, gorgeous, brave baby girl's?

Anyone who has ever met my daughter knows that she is just about the most lovable and kind person ever born. But they probably don't know about the struggles that she has faced, nor those that we have faced as a family because of her chronic condition. We're pretty private about a lot of this stuff, because, well, it isn't really anyone's business but our own. But I feel like this is an important time for honesty.

We moved from Colorado to Tulsa in Spring, 2003. At that time Sophie was two years old, and was the healthiest kid that you had ever met. In the two years she lived in Colorado, she had one stomach virus and two colds. Within a month of moving to Tulsa, Sophie developed pneumonia. And then weeks after that, she had it again. And then weeks after that, she had it again. This was a frustrating time, but we weren't too worried. We just kept going back to the doctor and getting more antibiotics and steroids. What would any parent do?

When I was 19, I was in a car wreck. As a result I had a spinal fusion that was successful for two reasons. First of all, I can walk and second, the fusion is in excellent shape twenty years later due to an excellent surgeon and prudent care on my part.

However; this puts me in a category known as "pre-existing condition" to insurance providers. Once you have one, you must stay insured at all times or you will never be insured again.

First Ricky Lake made a movie, the Business of Being Born, inspired by her own homebirth and actor John C. McGinley (Scrubs) and his wife Nichole had a baby at home and People magazine wrote a nice blurb about it.

Then ACOG (the American College of Obs and Gyns) felt so threatened they issued a press release reiterating their "long-standing opposition to home births" in which they state:

"Childbirth decisions should not be dictated or influenced by what's fashionable, trendy, or the latest cause célèbre. Despite the rosy picture painted by home birth advocates, a seemingly normal labor and delivery can quickly become life threatening for both the mother and baby."

Apparently childbirth decisions should only be influenced by celebrities choosing planned cesareans, despite that being a much riskier option.

When I first laid eyes on my positive pregnancy test, I was (and am still, in spirit) a reprobate caffeine addict. Coffee had played a major role in my life, and I can honestly say that I would be a very different person without it. In spite of a naturally sleepy disposition, my several coffees a day have fueled the accomplishment of a molecular biology Ph.D., a rich side life as a semi-professional musician, and a lively avocation in amateur bellydance.

My daughter is 20 months old, and I have recently recovered from a breast infection. The clinical term is mastitis, but I tend to shy away from calling it that. Growing up on a farm, I have heard the term mastitis applied all to often to members of the bovine species. Maybe I'm a bit neurotic, but I cannot rid myself of the cow/mastitis connection. If I were to find myself uttering the words, "I have mastitis," I would feel like I was calling myself a cow! No matter what you call it, though, a breast infection, for lack of better word, sucks.

For years I had followed the progress of the Fistula Hospital in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and of the hospital’s founder, Dr. Catherine Hamlin. I first read about Dr. Hamlin in Ms. magazine, saw her on "The Oprah Show," pored through her autobiography in two days and now, miraculously, here I was speeding through the streets of Addis Ababa on my way to meet her. I was excited, but more than that I was scared. Dizzy from the heat, dust and the sudden jolting of the taxi, I was hanging on for dear life. The taxi driver must have noticed my discomfort.

She estimates her age to be 72, although no record of her birth exists. She has only a few gray hairs on her head and her face is noticeably free of wrinkles, despite a lifetime of hard work. In her village Danyanish Mekonnen, mother of five grown children, holds the respected title of awaledje. Awaledje is the Amharic word for traditional birth attendant, a woman who, without any formal training, assists other women in giving birth. In nearly every village one woman stands out among the rest as the awaledje and is seen as an authority on childbirth and infant care.

The stigma still exists.

The saying remains among black folks that we do not see therapists.

"Chile only needs a kick in the ass. That should straighten her up!"

"There's nothing wrong with her. Should just quit acting a fool!"

There is a saying that black folks do not have nervous breakdowns, that we are not entitled to have them. Our mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers did not have them, neither should we. Look at our history. They have been though more than you ever will.

Bullshit.