Carole, who confesses she doesn't enjoy being the centre of attention, said she was shocked when she discovered her daughter had nominated her for the project.
"I'm a person who stands in the wings, and does everything behind the scenes," she said.
"I said to my daughter, 'you know I don't need to be recognised' and she said 'tough'."
"Mum's a reluctant hero," daughter Mary Sykes said.
"But she's doing this on her own and has no money for advertising, and I wanted to spread the word about the great work she does.
"If 10 people see it online, that's 10 people who can tell a friend who's lost a baby."
Carole, originally from Lincolnshire in the UK, has practised as a midwife since 1979, but didn't learn about the practice of placenta burial until she arrived in New Zealand 10 years ago.
"In the UK, we have nothing to do with the placenta -- they were being sold to cosmetics firms for about 10 pence."
While working for Wairarapa DHB, Carole attended a course on the 10 Maori standards of midwifery, and made it a goal to incorporate the standards into her own practice.
She was later shocked to discover parents were burying the placenta in ice cream containers, and to learn plastic can take hundreds of years to fully break down.
Flax, however, begins to biodegrade within 40 days.
She began making her baskets from flax kete she sources online -- which are soaked to soften, their handles removed, and moulded into boxes with lids.
She then decorates each one with ribbons, woven harakeke flowers, and paua donated by Paua World in Carterton -- a beautiful container for an important organ.
"It's something special -- the placenta isn't just clinical waste, like an appendix.
"It was part of the mother, which nourished and kept her baby alive.
"Returning it to the earth completes the cycle."
Dearest to Carole's heart at the moment are the ipu taonga for the little lives lost -- large ones for babies who have died at around 16 to 20 weeks, and smaller ones for those lost six to eight weeks.
"In some places, parents were given the foetal remains in a specimen cup.
"At that stage, it's not considered a baby -- but it's the parents' baby, and they deserve something lovely to be buried in."
For the larger ipu toanga, Carole receives tiny knitted blankets from members of the Maungaraki Probus Club -- and makes up the cocoon "like a wee bed".
"It's great for the Probus ladies -- as some of them had lost babies back in the days where it wasn't acknowledged at all."
She said she doesn't often meet the women at the ward who receive the baskets, but does have several heartwarming stories: for instance, providing an ipu taonga to a man whose close friends had lost their "much wanted IVF child", and handing over a basket to her son's colleague who had also lost a baby.
"At the moment, Wairarapa is the only DHB which gives these handmade baskets to mothers free of charge -- and that's pretty special."
