My Airborne Toxic Event

Like many scary stories, this one begins with a seemingly innocuous gift. 

Nurses at Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital sent my family home with a small care package—diapers, a tiny yellow comb and a 1-ounce bottle of Johnson's Baby Shampoo—after I gave birth to my first child in 2013.

Weeks later, I clicked on a Facebook link from my sister-in-law and learned that the iconic baby shampoo contained a chemical preservative called quaternium-15, a compound that releases formaldehyde. A carcinogen. 

 Suddenly, the gift from the hospital seemed like a hand grenade. My daughter can't even sit up! Have I given her cancer? 

I immediately tossed the bottle in the trash—and then, an hour later, fished it out, unable to part with the small memento of my daughter's birth. The little bottle stayed in a drawer as I sought out the most natural baby soap I could find at New Seasons. I went back to Johnson & Johnson only after the company released a new version of its baby shampoo, without quaternium-15.

As a journalist, I'm trained to ask questions and think skeptically about the answers I hear. As a mom, however, I deploy skepticism selectively. If someone tells me a product has the potential to seriously harm my child, it's out—no questions asked. 

These roles collided recently when a staffer for U.S. Sen. Jeff Merkley (D-Ore.) approached WW with a chance to try out an unusual new tool that promised to answer questions about everyday chemical exposures—and possibly feed my fears.

The tool was a wristband designed by researchers at Oregon State University and marketed by a company called MyExposome that is supposed to detect as many as 1,400 industrial chemicals I might come in contact with. I was invited to take part in a weeklong trial, and in the end I'd get a list of those compounds absorbed by my wristband.

The offer from Merkley's office created every reason for journalistic skepticism. Merkley is a co-sponsor of federal legislation to overhaul the study and regulation of industrial chemicals in household products. The project—including testing of participants' bracelets at $2,000 a pop—would be paid for by the Environmental Defense Fund, a lobbying group helping Merkley. Wasn't this the kind of gimmick a journalist should avoid? 

The experiment also had obvious limitations: The wristband wouldn't be tested to show my exposure levels. It also couldn't trace how I'd been exposed to the chemicals it picked up.

And then there was the question of how I'd interpret the results. As Sonya Lunder, an analyst with the Environmental Working Group, told me, "We can't tell you exactly how much exposure is harmful, how combinations of chemicals might affect your health, or what population groups are most sensitive to these chemicals."

The experiment promised to raise more questions than it answered, and I'd be feeding my own fears while helping a politician promote his agenda.

The journalist in me said no. 

The mom in me jumped at the chance.

The silicone wristband arrived by overnight express. I unsealed it from its package and slid it on my wrist. It looked like a Livestrong bracelet in black, but its intent was the opposite. Instead of radiating anti-cancer vibes, it would soak up potential carcinogens and hormone disruptors, reminding wearers of the dread lurking in their homes.

Not that I needed any reminders. 

This is Portland, after all, where moms who fear formula exchange breast milk over the Internet with women they’ve never met. A new mommy friend would bring her baby over for a play date, point to plastic toys in my living room and ask, “Where did you get that?” I knew she wasn’t asking because she wanted to buy the toy for her child. Instead, she wanted to assess the chances my child’s toys contained industrial chemicals that could lower her little boy’s sperm count. 

While wearing the wristband, I tried not to change anything about my daily routine. That week, I painted my nails with polish I'd gotten for Mother's Day—a brand that supposedly adhered to high environmental standards. I went to a hair salon and sat in a swivel chair as fumes from dyes wafted around me. And I took a shower every day, using lavender face wash from the organic aisle at Fred Meyer and Aveda shampoo. 

In other words, I went about my normal business of walking around in a bubble of enlightened consumerism that is, nonetheless, a stew of hidden, potentially harmful synthetic chemicals.

After a week, I took the wristband off, sealed it back up and sent it via FedEx to the Environmental Defense Fund.

Then I waited.

My results arrived about a month later. I was one of 28 participants in this study, and at first blush my results seemed positive. The wristband detected only 11 chemicals; only one or two participants had a lower number, 10. Additionally, the analysis detected no pesticides in my wristband, although the analysis had screened for hundreds of varieties.

"Wow," I thought. "I'm safer than I thought."

A representative from the Environmental Defense Fund quickly popped my bubble, saying the experiment revealed only a snapshot. 

"It's one week in a moment in time," Sarah Vogel, a health director at EDF, told me. "It's hard to generalize." Only a more expensive analysis of my blood or urine would probably reveal more potential hazards.

As it was, I'd been exposed to two industrial chemicals banned in kids' toys, several phthalates or plastic softeners shown to disrupt hormones, and a flame retardant that is relatively new and little studied (see sidebar).

Where did I come into contact with those? 

"It's really hard to know," says Vogel. "The question that we can't answer with the wristband is, did you come into contact with those through the air or through the direct use of a product?"

I scoured labels in my bathroom. That nail polish I got for Mother’s Day? It was supposed to be “green,” meaning it had no formaldehyde or phthalates. But it did have benzophenone, one of the chemicals picked up in my bracelet that’s linked to cancer.  I chucked the bottle to the back of my linen closet.

I looked for more sources but didn't find any. Even if I had, I wouldn't have been safe from worry. You can try to avoid certain synthetic chemicals in your own home, but try avoiding them at work or on the bus. Products with industrial chemicals, such as those sprinkled in carpets and cushions supposedly to keep them from bursting into flames, break down and are in our dust.

As the information packet for the experiment explained, "You can't shop your way out of the problem."

Merkley and I met in his downtown Portland office to talk about the experiment and the legislation he's pushing, Senate Bill 697.

Merkley wanted to know whether wearing the bracelet had made me more aware of my potential exposure to synthetic chemicals. I nodded. 

Then he told me he thinks about the perfluorinated chemicals in his pizza box every time he bites into a fresh pie. So-called PFASs are added to pizza boxes and other household products such as microwave popcorn bags to help them repel grease and other liquids. In January, more than 200 scientists from around the world decried the proliferation of PFASs, which are linked to testicular and kidney cancer as well as a host of other maladies.

"There are things we don't see and think about every day," Merkley told me. "I now think of it when I peel off the cheese."

There's no one agency in the United States that regulates synthetic chemicals. 

The Food and Drug Administration, for example, governs sippy cups and cosmetics, including shampoo. The Consumer Product Safety Commission looks at products such as bath toys, and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency regulates industrial chemicals such as flame retardants in couches, carpets and mattresses. Many synthetic chemicals, though, pop up in products under all three umbrellas.

Merkley's bill would look under just one umbrella—the EPA's—and it would update a law from 1976, the Toxic Substances Control Act.

The 39-year-old law doesn't do a very good job. Since its passage nearly 40 years ago, the EPA has been able to require study of only about 200 of the 60,000 chemicals in existence in 1976, and it's regulated or banned only five of those, an EPA official testified in front of Congress in April.

Since then, the number of chemicals on the market has grown to 80,000.

“The Toxic Substances Control Act does not control toxic substances,” says Dr. Jerome Paulson, a pediatrician in Washington, D.C., who has testified before Congress on behalf of the American Academy of Pediatrics for stronger oversight of industrial chemicals. 

The EPA can't require chemical manufacturers to prove their products' safety. And manufacturers can sell their products before research has concluded.

Merkley's bill would empower EPA to study all chemicals and require the agency to focus on the effects of chemicals on vulnerable populations—toddlers, pregnant women and the elderly.

"No matter how careful the individual is, we're each living in a soup of chemicals," Merkley says. "You're exposed through living in our modern society, and that's why it makes sense for us to tackle these toxic chemicals that are in everyday products."

Perhaps surprisingly, the proposed legislation has the backing of the American Chemistry Council, a trade group that represents chemical companies. The lobbying group says a patchwork of state regulations—as well as misinformation about chemicals—has created a need for a better system.

"Consumer confidence in the safety of chemicals has declined in recent years," says Anne Kolton, a spokeswoman. "We need a credible and strong federal regulatory program that states, manufacturers and consumers can trust."

The council supports the bill because it would limit states from establishing their own, more stringent rules. 

Earlier this month, Oregon lawmakers passed the Toxic Free Kids Act, which would require companies selling children's products to disclose the presence of chemicals deemed concerning, then phase out the worst kinds. 

That all sounds good, until you check the fine print and see that certain apparel and sporting goods are exempted. 

Gov. Kate Brown is expected to sign the bill. Merkley's federal bill, with its rules on what states can do once it's passed, could block any Oregon attempt to phase out a chemical once the EPA launches a review.

I told Merkley that what the study really did was increase my own paranoia.

"It's appropriate for people to be paranoid," he said. "It's reality that they're exposed to toxic, disease-causing chemicals with every move that they make in life."

Paranoia seeks company. So I turned to another mom who took part in the experiment at Merkley's behest.

Bethany Thomas, a Northeast Portland mom of three who works for an environmental education group, was just as confused as I was. "You assume there are government protections taking care of us," she says. "Then you find out there's not, and you're scared again."

She didn't make me feel better. 

So I turned again to Dr. Jerome Paulson, the pediatrician. Surely he'd fielded questions from hundreds of worried moms like me, who swung between concern and complacency. Maybe he could help make sense of my response.

Despite his uncertainty about the legislation making its way through Congress—Merkley's bill could come to a vote this summer—Paulson told me we needed to overhaul federal rules. 

"Particularly as a parent, you can make yourself crazy," he told me. "These are not the kinds of decisions that individuals can make on their own."

And yet, that 1-ounce bottle of baby shampoo is never coming out of that drawer.  

From eco-nail polish to pizza boxes, a mom's worries could fill a grocery-store aisle—or maybe the whole store. Here are the 11 chemicals that showed up in WW's wristband—more reasons to scrap your cosmetics, move into a benzophenone-free cardboard box, and start writing to your senators and reps in Washington, D.C.

Benzophenone Some people have one foot in the grave. Others have their whole bodies in benzophenone. It's in hand soap, shampoo, sunscreen, soy milk, body spray, anti-wrinkle cream, radiance lotion and more. The chemical blocks ultraviolet rays, at a cost. It mimics estrogen, a hormone, and has been linked to skin cancer in animals. 

Benzyl benzoate This compound is used to kills scabies, dust mites and ticks. It's also a fragrance preservative in perfume, shampoo and body wash. Like benzophenone, it mimics estrogen and has been found to stimulate breast-cell growth. 

Bis(2-ethylhexyl) phthalate This compound showed up in 82 percent of wristbands in this study. That's no surprise: It's in PVC plastic containers, sealant and spray paint. "[Phthalates] are considered the poster child of endocrine-disrupting compounds," says Sarah Vogel of the Environmental Defense Fund.

Butyl benzyl phthalate BBP was recently banned from children's toys. But it remains just about everywhere else, including in bug spray, furniture and food packaging. BBP's effects on humans are unclear, but tests on mice have deformed skeletons, delayed puberty and caused leukemia. 

Butylated hydroxyanisole BHA, a preservative and carcinogen, shows up in skin creams, foods and lip gloss. It's been linked with stomach tumors in animals. 

Di-n-nonyl phthalate. Like the other phthalates, this one is in plastic everywhere, yet its effects on people are poorly understood, and no human hazards with it have been identified.

Di-n-octyl phthalate DNOP is used to soften plastics, including medical tubing, plastic containers and adhesives. In high amounts, it kills rats, but little is known about its effects on humans. 

Galaxolide Many studies have measured the population distribution of galaxolide, a fragrance used in skin moisturizer, deodorant and cleaning products. As for its health effects, it's known to block estrogen, a hormone, in rainbow trout. 

Naphthalene Giving up cigarettes was hard enough. Try giving up air. This possible carcinogen shows up in mothballs, petroleum, toilet deodorant blocks—and the wind. Little is known about its effects on humans, but it's been linked to cancer and reproductive problems in rats.

Tonalide Like galaxolide, tonalide is a fake musk smell used in perfumes. It caused genetic damage when tested on zebra mussels, and it's suspected to alter human hormones. 

TPP This flame retardant is in nail products like polish and enamel. Similar fire-stopping chemicals are common in electronics, foam and plastics, and often leach into food. They've caused kidney tumors and brain lesions in lab rats, but little is known about their effects on people. HART HORNOR.

WWeek 2015