Heal My Son
I stand as David before Goliath…but in my case it is for the health of my son. The giant “Goliath” in my life is the fear that he won’t heal to a place of being independent! There I said it! It doesn’t give any power to the fear. It just acknowledges a giant to conquer.
A few years ago, my husband and I have our first baby. It is a special time anticipated for 37 weeks. Then I feel no movement and my OBGYN and sweet friend discovers via the ultrasounic equipment; there is no amniotic fluid in the sack. We meet at the hospital in the evening.
My parents hurry to our side for support and we all just pray and try to stay calm.
As we arrive in our room, the phone keeps ringing. We ignore it because we’ve just arrived. A nurse comes into the room and informs us that my Aunt would very much like to speak with us. This time I pick up the phone. She says only one word. She is so completely serious and I remember thinking that it is so strange of her to call and tell me…”Breathe. Just. Breathe.” She keeps saying it. I say “Thank you, I love you, too” and hang up. Later and even today, I remember my Aunt and her words that still carry me…Breathe, Breathe.
The evening is fun. Our OB hangs out in the room and we talk of many things and laugh. I must be induced with pitocin, but I refuse anything else because if we have complications I want to give our baby the cleanest environment possible. Especially with the issue of “lacking fluid”.
He is born, but he is not breathing. Then he breathes. The doctors whisk him away and I send my husband– please stay with him! The problem is that all of our medical friends come to see us and tell us something is wrong. After a lot of blood draws and every specialist’s analyses, there is no conclusive data.
The Skinny of It
From the onset because he is not breathing, he is diagnosed born with an anoxic brain injury. Fancy medical terms for “lack of oxygen”. Our son has a combination of several different indications, yet different from each individual condition. Therefore, it doesn’t have a name. [Not a fan of labeling, so that’s O.K. with me. “He is my son” is a great label.]
What it means in a mom’s world is that a lot of work is required to help him heal.
Our son was tiny and despite all of it, he is able to breast feed, use his facilities, so I focus on all the positives. The medical community is troubled because he does not have; eyelashes, strong muscles to hold up his head, a strong heart [with a large hole], nor a strong bladder. However, he is born with an amazing temperament, a smile almost always on his face, and the sweetest giggle ever!!!Our Plan of Attack…Education
I ditch the Upper Grad Business and begin pre-med course work. When the topic of food came up under the vanacular of “nutrition”, I found it interesting. It is something that I can do to help on an every day basis.
A google search leads me to Weston A. Price and we find Nourishing Traditions. A book that is amazing. The more I properly prepare these foods with recipes from across the globe, healing happens.
We diligently exercise his neck muscles and he begins to hold his head up well at 6 months old. We see progress. His heart hole heals at 12 months so we are able to avoid that surgery. But due to his complications, our pediatrician strongly advises us to vaccinate on schedule with 3 or more serums dosed in one sitting.
Unfortunately, this causes a decline in his ability to function. After 3 years old, within a day of the MMR, his fever spiked, his eyes lost their sparkle, his personality changes. People begin to ask, “Is your son autistic?”
I go into my home! Thankfully, my husband is a Certified General Contractor at Disney, so we make our home beautiful and fun. I stop working to stay home and love him. We now have 2 other children and we have a blessed, fun life. It seems important to protect the hearing ears of my son from the onslaught of comments made therefore we homeschool.
Every time I muster the courage to participate in some child group play, my first son shows his inability to socially adapt. It’s very isolating, however we make the best of it and have fun. Our medical friends come and hang out with us at our home after the children go to bed. Fortunately, we are able to have date nights after 7:30pm bedtime for the children.
But the quest to heal my son is still on. We visit too many specialists to count or name, but none seem to have the answer other than, “This is the way it is” and “He is doing much better than we thought he would do”.
So, back to education. Being a mom creates such a passion and love to allow the very best for your child, and we needed to figure this out. I look at many schools in order to engage in a real health degree and find many options. The one I choose is a certification as a Functional Nutritional Therapy Practitioner through Nutritional Therapy Association. It is created by a driven man, along with some doctors to share some forgotten techniques that can be used in tandem with the over-used allopathic treatments. So many of our MD and chiropractic friends share the CDC reports that so many indications can be treated at home which would allow them to focus on the more traumatic cases people are facing.
The Quest to Heal My Son
With this functional training, plus Ulan school for Nutrition Response Training, and a Traditional Food Cook certification, a lot of changes are made in our home. Now we begin to make some health progress again, and our food is tasting a lot better too.
Next, we are working on getting the microbiome better in his gut. Although the Giant Fear seems to rear his ugly head often, somehow there is an unmovable, unshakeable hope that will soon clobber this Giant Fear. Because with everything in me, I want my son at his very best and able to be independent. To be a sweet, giggly son that can be independent and capable to live an amazing life and help others.
Remember the power you have in your home and in your kitchen. It really does make a difference.