By Miebeth Bustillo-Booth, ChildTrek Founder
This is the 2nd part of the series, “How ChildTrek was born.” Click here to read the “1st Trimester - A Seed Takes Root.”
Abstract: In the series, How ChildTrek Was Born, the founder, Miebeth Bustillo-Booth, recollects significant and ordinary events that led her to start an online store specializing in natural and eco-friendly toys for babies and toddlers. In 2nd Trimester: Out of the Dark, you will read how Miebeth draws parallels about the environment’s fragility and rebirth to her own personal loss and the need to return to nature.
How Nature Heals
Bart and I were in our late thirties when we met and married, which meant my eggs were in their late thirties, too. I tried not to worry about it, but my public pronouncement of “If it happens, it happens” was privately changing to “Oh, God, please, let there be at least one good egg left.”
After a failed pregnancy and deeply broken hearts, Bart and I left for Central America to hide our sadness from caring family and friends. We understood that not everything in nature bears fruit, but this did little to ease our pain.
As we swam with wildly beautiful sea creatures in the serenity of the Belize Barrier Reef, I felt the warm waters lift and console me. Had I not worn a snorkeling mask, the sea would have reclaimed my tears as its own.
In Guatemala, Bart and I saw the resilience of Mother Nature. Abandoned cities lay beneath her nurturing blanket. As I sat atop excavated Mayan pyramids, I marveled at the environment’s ability to begin again. I imagined that my loving husband and I were part of this rebirth, and that in us were still the seeds of life.
Bart and I returned to the United States by way of the Dallas International Airport. It was an arresting scene with the unnaturalness of the hurried life all around us. Just a day before, we were among lightening bugs and their nighttime dance on a lush, moonlit and ancient Mayan plaza. Now we were engulfed in concrete, fluorescent light, and post-industrial reality.
No matter, our natural escape lingered in the lightness of our steps long after that jarring welcome home. We thanked the earth and her creatures for giving us a way out of our painful darkness.
Another Chance
After we returned from Central America, Bart and I let months pass before we tried to get pregnant again. We took our time to fully recover emotionally and physically. Then we decided to begin again.
One evening, Bart brought home a bottle of wine. We saw little of each other that month due to my heavy work travel. So the chance of being pregnant was remote. Nevertheless, I took a home pregnancy test just to be sure.
Two bright pink lines appeared quickly across the window of the test stick. It happened so fast, I was not sure what I saw. I stared at it for a bit, squinting my eyes as if seeing double. Then I burst out of the bathroom, “Bart, look!” Even though I guarded my excitement, I believed that just as nature reclaimed abandoned Mayan cities as fertile ground, in us a seed was growing.
Back to Nature
The following months sharpened my awareness about things I took for granted – from the food I ate to the thoughts that filled my mind. I saw my body as a repository of all my choices - good, bad, and the only-time-will-tell. I regarded me as an incubator – a safe and nurturing haven for the life that grew within. Everything else had to fall in line.
The stresses of my work no longer had the weight they once did. They seemed trivial compared to the making of a human being. I focused on my health. I read labels more closely. I looked for natural ingredients. If the list consisted of unpronounceable, hyper-syllabic terms, I put the item down.
Bart and I wanted to return to a time when food was just food, not pumped up to be pretty or grown so fast as to lose nutritional value. We began to be selective. We ate more and more organic produce. We wanted what we ate to nourish us, not weaken us. Yes, it cost more. But, we knew this was the better choice for us, our baby, and the world she would inherit.
What Toys Teach
As my waist line disappeared, my perspective began to change to that of being a mother. As a former teacher, I experienced how good parenting can make up for the unfairness of life. Also as a public policy director for a large educators’ association, I was aware of the latest findings around early learning, brain research, and childhood development. In sum: Early experiences (from birth to five) significantly influence a child’s lifelong success.
It was with this knowledge that I began to see piles of toys corralled in corners or stuffed in closets of various homes. They had always been there. But this time, I saw them in a different light.
Most were plastic toys with some initial appeal. However, upon a closer look few had positive learning value. Few taught kids to expand their vocabulary, to problem solve, to cooperate, to empathize with others, or to be physically active.
The electronic toys were particularly troublesome. Some were loud and over-stimulating, leaving little to the imagination or the nerves. Some engaged two opposing thumbs and not much else. Other toys – particularly those for boys – taught violence as a way of solving problems. The first to destroy the other wins. Still others – certain dolls – distorted a girl’s sense of beauty and self.
Possibly what struck me the most was how quickly the children became bored with the toys. Their lack of sustained interest suggested that these toys did little to stimulate their mind or engage their creativity. I began to see these moments as lost opportunities to challenge bright children eager to learn. I did not blame their parents. Most of these toys claimed to be “educational” or at least “fun.”
Of course, there were good toys among them. What astonished me was how simple and basic they were. Among the noteworthy were wooden blocks, construction toys, memory games, puzzles, and pretend play toys like puppets. Children played with these repeatedly and longer than others. What’s more, these learning toys brought parent and child together – building a relationship through play!
I began to take note of the kinds of natural educational toys we would get our child.
Xondra the Great
Bart and I chose not to know the gender of our child until delivery. At least, I didn’t want to know and Bart obliged me. It didn’t matter to me whether our child was a boy or a girl, only that our baby was healthy and happy. In preparation for the delivery, we came up with names for a boy and a girl. It was important to us that these were meaningful, reflecting how we would raise our child.
After swimming in the dark for over nine months, our child pushed out into the big, bright world rather hurriedly. As the nurses wrapped and gave our crying baby to me, I asked, “Well, what is it?” In the speed of the delivery, they had forgotten to look. So I unwrapped our newborn, lifted one leg, and announced, “It’s a girl!”
As I held her in my arms, all worldly boundaries dissipated. I looked into her eyes and gently said, “Hello Xondra Elizabeth. It’s so great to see you. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” At that very moment, it was just Bart, my daughter, and me.
Before we left the hospital, one of the nurses asked where our baby’s name came from. We told her that Xondra is a derivative of Alexandra, which means helper and defender of humankind. Elizabeth is the name of both of our mother’s. It means God’s promise.
When we considered how to spell her name, Bart said, “Well, you know, XOXO means hugs and kisses.” At that, it was settled: Xondra Elizabeth – God’s loving helper and defender of humankind.
What We Leave Behind
As the months passed, I came to see the world with Xondra growing in it. I saw her running on beaches, picking up starfish. I saw my family going back to Belize to swim with the green sea turtles and the gentle manatees who gave me back so much. I saw us trekking through the rainforests, watching out for colorful birds, looking for swinging monkeys and other wild creatures, and listening for the rustle of the green canopy above. I saw her hiking up the glaciers of Mount Rainier. And then it struck me. Which wild creatures? Which rainforests? What glaciers? Which ones would still be around?
I began to go recall the places I’ve been – to the threatened Belize Barrier Reef, to the crowded cities of Guatemala, Japan and Italy, to the parched islands of Greece, to the disappearing rainforests of the Philippines, to the cities across the United States where green hills and plains are now blanketed with concrete. Are we creating Mayan cities on a global scale?
As I sat through traffic in the parking lot that is I-5, I couldn’t help but notice the grey haze hanging above the horizon. I struggled to remember a song by Perry Como. How did it go? The bluest skies you’ll ever see are in Seattle. And the hills the greenest green, in Seattle. Like a beautiful child, growing up, free an’ wild? I raised the car window as if to keep the smog from reaching Xondra who slept soundly in the back seat.
What kind of world are we leaving behind for our children?
It was with this question that I returned to my work after three months of holding our baby every chance I could, praying that she grow up happy and healthy in a lush and vibrant world.
Coming in the near future: How ChildTrek Was Born: 3rd Trimester
