John's Wort is No Saint

My daughter, who has been married just one year, plans to wait a few more before bearing children. She uses oral contraceptives to ensure that she and her husband won’t have to support a child, on top of paying a mortgage and the monthly bills. They realize no method of birth control is foolproof, but the pill is about as good as it gets when it comes to protection.

As you might suspect, this is the story of the pregnancy scare—what turned out to be a false alarm, but Kate’s fear generated some shocking information for any health-conscious woman who has switched to organic shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer, or body cream.

I am one such convert, having heartily trashed and traded salon and drug store products when I discovered their ingredients included parabens and propylene glycol, a cosmetic form of mineral oil found in automatic brake and hydraulic fluid and industrial antifreeze. My body is not the same as that of an automobile, thank you very much.

When Kate ran her possible pregnancy symptoms—all the usual suspects—by her peers, amazingly three of them divulged that they had, in fact, welcomed the stork while on the pill, and while ingesting it faithfully and properly, without missing a single day. Had she recently been on an antibiotic? they asked. By now, most of us know that some antibiotics can interfere with the efficacy of the birth control pill. No, she had not.

Had she been taking St. John’s Wort—the trendy herb that is touted to be successful in resolving everything from depression to, when used topically, burns or wounds to the skin? She didn’t think so. That’s when she remembered her new skin products—the ones I had advocated she order so that she would be avoiding the nasty cancer-contributing ingredients in most over-the-counter criminals. Several well-known cosmetics and skin care products also contribute to reproductive issues. For all these reasons, she altered her ablutions to include only organic products.

When Kate now checked the label ingredients with a more discerning eye, sure enough, there was St. John’s Wort oil, in print for all to see. Who would know it was evil? The jury is out on the herb and there is certainly enough on the Internet to warn that its side effects can be dangerous interference with the pill as well as with blood pressure medications.

Appalled that we had been duped by a company that boasted “the healthy alternative in skin care,” and to boot charged a pretty price for it, we returned it all and demanded a full refund. At the doctor’s appointment that revealed she was not pregnant, Kate’s gynecologist concurred that used topically, St. John’s Wort can interfere with the pill, or mess with someone else’s blood pressure meds. Do I want this under my skin? Do you?

Since that day of discovery I have become obsessive compulsive, visiting Skin Deep’s website (the Environmental Working Group’s rating of safety in cosmetics) and matching what they consider “green light” with the ingredient list that, in fact, reveals St. John’s Wort lurking on the label. It’s bad enough that women’s skin, hair, and cosmetic products are not policed properly or regulated at all, but an outright sin to let this saint remain part of our clueless, religious daily regimen. It is even authorized by an organization that claims to work vigilantly to redeem the organic cosmetic industry and rescue us innocents.

Kate calls me from the Whole Foods Market floor where she sits reading labels.

“Can you look up this one, Mom? Is it a green light—or is it yellow or, God forbid, red?”

She should be home fixing her husband dinner or enjoying a healthy glass of red wine to still her heart after a stressful day of teaching.

“I just want my life back!” she wails.

I should be relaxing with my husband in the family room, watching Monday night football. Instead, here we are, me scanning the computer, the child I bore reading me Latin plant species names she cannot pronounce. We’ll perish from the anxiety long before we do any herbal side effects.

After a week of this, 24/7, since visions of essential oils spin in my head while I sleep, I think I’ve finally discovered one company that creates creams and lotions and cleansers for someone with prune dry menopausal skin living in a dry climate—without finding it necessary to include St. John’s Wort in the mix—at least not on their website. When I get the boxes, if it’s in there, I’ll let you know—after I start taking it for depression.