VAXXED through the eyes of an Autism Mom!

There’s a ton of reviews out there about the film Vaxxed: From Cover-Up to Catastrophe but I haven’t written mine yet, so here we go…

This last April just in time for Autism Awareness Month.. which I hate by the way, as I see it as nothing more than an in your face ritual child sacrifice to the cult of Baal or the God Moloch or some other such demonic being… Or at the least a marketing strategy that morbidly celebrates chemically induced brain damage… But anyway.. I hate autism awareness month and it’s not just that I hate it but for the past several years April is a month that brings out the worst in my severely autistic son, Aydan’s symptoms.. Could it be histamine? Or seasonal changes or what?? We’ve tested couldn’t find anything but yet it still happens.. Sound familiar autism moms?

Anyway.. though my name is April, I hate the month of April.. When T.S. Eliott wrote ‘April is the cruelest month..’ he wasn’t lying.. So, I ignored the Vaxxed news.  I didn’t have time to dwell on a film about what had happened to my vaccine injured child,  as I was too busy dealing with my vaccine injured child.  I wasn’t on any social media and didn’t have any interest, I just wanted my child to get better.. I just wanted to be his mommy and nothing else.

In the month of May I received an email notifying me that to my surprise a screening was about 5 minutes from my house with a filmmakers’ Q & A directly following the show. I live in a small town about an hour north of Los Angeles where the screening had appeared previously on my son’s birthday (ironically in April), so I didn’t go to that one nor do I go to much anything that is an hour away.. But here it was just 5 minutes..  I could get away for a couple of hours and go see it; and I did.

I knew what the film was about. I knew just about all the information presented. I knew that the CDC lied about the MMR vaccine / autism connection. I knew that Andrew Wakefield was precisely correct and that everything he described happening to his patients all of whom had gut disease and were subsequently diagnosed with autism following MMR vaccination, happened to my son in the exact same way.  I heard the mother’s in the film talk about their child’s regression into autism following MMR and it was exactly what had happened to mine.  I heard these stories 1000s of times from 1000s of parents..

So, I sat in the theater and expected to be under-whelmed by the information since after all I knew everything, right?  What I didn’t know was how seeing our story play out before my eyes would affect me emotionally.  Within the first 5 minutes I began to bite my lip in an effort to try to prevent the tears from streaming down my face… I couldn’t stop them.. I tried to clear my eyes, so I could see the screen but I had to look away several times just to compose myself.. I cried because I thought of all the things I had been too busy to deal with in the previous month.. I cried because I thought of all the years of struggle and wasted time… I cried because I thought of my son and his gut pain and how he dealt with it by hurting himself and others at times.. I cried because I felt loss… I cried because I was angry that as mothers we told this story 1000s of times and that it took exposing a bunch of lying officials for anyone to care.. Or even half care… I cried because I couldn’t help myself, it was just too much…

At the end of the film when producer, Del Bigtree asked the families’ of the vaccine injured to stand, I stood.. I didn’t want to as my knees were knocking and I knew once again it would be hard to compose myself..

Many people at the end stuck around to socialize and talk to the filmmakers but I was eager to get home to my family and I knew my time was limited.  When I arrived at home I could see a group of not to happy people. Chaos had ensued and yet another melt down had occurred followed by a number two, bathroom accident because well.. My son received the MMR vaccine and developed gut disease and was subsequently diagnosed with autism..  I mean.. Do I really need to keep saying this?  This scene has been common place since about mid-February and the thing that prompted me to write this essay is that it happened two more times just today.. And ‘yes’ he is toilet trained and ‘yes’ we have seen the doctor and run the tests and the tests have rendered us no answers.. Sound familiar autism moms?

So back to my review of Vaxxed.. I’m glad this information has finally come out of the shadow and into the light.  I’m grateful that there’s been a whistle-blower who had a crisis of conscience that will hopefully spare many children from the same fate as my son.  This film has awakened many including members of my own family to the truth, which is undeniably a positive move in the right direction.. But I still have to clean up poop from the porch and bring out my carpet cleaner a couple of times a week.. My son still has to suffer with severe gut pain and little to no ability to express his feelings… And I as his mother suffer right along with him. I wrote an essay about 6 years ago where I stated I would give my life to God if I could take away one.. just ONE vaccine that had been given to my son, because I know that seemingly small thing would make his life better today.  So Vaxxed?  Yes, it’s good film, an important film that everyone should see but it is a story about real people, a story about real suffering and a story that should have never needed to be told.. And unfortunately, it’s a story that can’t take away the damage that has been done.

Killing Mothers in America – Vaccination

Killing Mothers In America – Vaccination

From Liam Scheff:

“The eugenics movement has a history of killing and wounding many in the large populations to which the ‘science’ is applied. The vaccine movement, as part of the eugenic movement, is now killing families across the world and the United States. In this video, I’ll explain or demonstrate the process by which we’re very busy killing mothers in America by slowly killing their children — and I’ll offer a prescription for what we actually need to do about it.”

Please…

‘To love someone with all your heart requires reaching them where they are with the only words they can understand’– Shannon L. Alder

Aydan is a beautiful 11 year old boy, who was diagnosed with autism at age 2. He is a charming, intelligent, fun, affectionate, warm and tender child.

Unfortunately due to his condition, he suffers from high anxiety, stress, is non-verbal and struggles with everyday living. He has severe sensory dysfunction and many medical conditions including severe gastrointestinal disorder that further exasperates his issues.

Like any human being he longs to be connected with others, understood and accepted but with the communication skills of a 1 year old, he is growing more and more frustrated by his inability to do so.

For nearly 9 years we have tried just about every therapy under the sun both traditional and non. Aydan has been in behavioral (ABA) programs, Floortime (DIR), Relationship Development Intervention (RDI), Hanen Language Program, Special Autism Day Class, Occupational Therapy, Speech Therapy, Physical Therapy, Listening Therapy, Equestrian Therapy, Vision Therapy, Fitness training, Gymnastics and on and on. He has also participated in biomedical interventions that include DAN protocol, homeopathy, special diets, chiropractics, accupressure and more.

As his mother I have completed 1000s of hours of research and training to better understand his condition and support him. I love this child as much as any person can possibly love another… I will never give up on him.

I believe the window of opportunity never closes and am reaching out to an organization that believes the same. The Son-Rise Program was established in 1974 by parents who loved their son the way that we love Aydan. They were willing to reach him in anyway possible with radical acceptance and love. At this point in time with all Aydan has been through, he deserves nothing less.

Not only were the founders of the Son-Rise program, the Kaufman family, able to successfully reach their child; Their son, now an adult has gone on to teach others their unique method helping countless families reach their affected loved ones.

Our family is desperate to reach Aydan the way so many others have been able through Son-Rise.  We are seeking funds to attend their Start Up program, which include the following:
$2200 per person Tuition Costs (x2)
$750 Round trip airfare for 2

Any amount is welcome!

Our goal is to attend the upcoming program December 4-9, 2016.

Thank you for your time, attention, support and prayers!

God Bless!

https://www.youcaring.com/aydan-boden-588027

When the Window of Opportunity Closes!

This September will mark the 9 year anniversary that my son Aydan was diagnosed with autism. This is not a day we celebrate.  I remember everything about it, sitting in the waiting room at the Regional Center office building in downtown Los Angeles.  A typical sterile office waiting room with a few toys and books strung around.. this type of environment would be a frequent scene for the next 9 years.  When our name was called we walked in a large room with several toys, balls, puzzles, etc. and two women in business clothes.  They were friendly, smiled and played with Aydan, attempting to interact with him.  I was still in the phase of over-stating his abilities, as if somehow I could talk the ‘experts’ out of their inevitable diagnosis.  They would ask questions, like ‘how many words does he have?’  Nearly 9 years later, I am asked the same question.. to which I continue not to fully know the answer.

When I heard the diagnosis, I was not surprised; I had already diagnosed him myself.  I wanted the experts to stamp their seal of approval, so that all the powers that be would move us into action and bing bang boom.. we’d get this puzzle solved.  I quickly learned, the system doesn’t work like that.  When asking for help in ‘the system’ you must scream and claw and cite scientific journals and hire lawyers and argue evidence based vs. emerging evidence based vs. alternative and so on and on…  This was certainly not the loving and accepting upbringing I had imagined for my child.

432173_2986711539952_1378342205_nAydan was 2 1/2 then and in the years to follow I would indeed make numerous mistakes in my pursuit for help.  I remember the feeling of urgency, the constant reminders that this ‘window of opportunity’ would close at around 6 years old and the child would be too far out of reach to return.  The clock was ticking and I moved fast.. Too fast as I should have seen then what I see so clearly now… A 2 1/2 year old child with autism, is a 2 1/2 year old child.  We didn’t need the system, we didn’t need to move fast, we only needed each other.

9 years later we can do nothing about the mistakes from the past.. The futile fights with the system, the sterile rooms we sat in, the premature entry into school at age 3, the countless therapies that would follow, none of which were truly capable of addressing his needs.  I understand the desire to stay positive and optimistic about the future.  Certainly it isn’t prudent to continually beat yourself up about the past but personally, I have never appreciated the cliché sayings that make their way on many a Facebook meme, such as ‘There are no mistakes, only lesson..’ or ‘There are no mistakes, only opportunities’.. and possibly my least favorite, ‘There are no mistakes, only happy accidents…’  Interesting how I don’t remember being ‘happy’ during any of these events and I sure could have managed with fewer ‘opportunities’, especially at the expense of my innocent son.

Please, don’t get me wrong, I’m no pessimist.. I’m an optimist to the bitter end.  Some might even say to a fault but the way I look at it, is that if a mother can lift a Chevy to save her child trapped underneath the vehicle, there is no “window” strong enough to withstand the rock I’m willing to throw.

Today almost 9 years has past and on paper we see all the milestones that have been missed, all the ‘opportunities’ that have passed, all the childhood experiences he’ll never have, which leaves me asking, what now?  So, now I look back at that original day.  I think of the sterile waiting room and I ask myself, if I had to do over would I have just taken those papers in hand and simply walked away from it all? Those papers that would brand my son with a label for life, enabling him access to all the ‘services’ within the system that never served his needs at all.  Maybe I wouldn’t have even went into the sterile room.. Maybe I wouldn’t have even parked the car.. Maybe I wouldn’t have even made the initial phone call to get the appointment.. I mean what did those papers tell me about my son?  What insights did they offer??  They state what he could and could not do.. what skills were age appropriate and which were delayed (most were delayed).. they would state if the delay was mild, moderate, severe or profound.. they would suggest which treatments were required, behavioral therapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy.. But did they encapsulate my son?  Did they offer the truth?  Could they measure his worth?  Did they know his value?  How much is your child worth?  How many hours.. how much money.. how much time would you give for them… Could these papers provide answers to these questions?

46c4aeb1ea69c5993737c84b587f80e5Perhaps rather than look for answers from the powers that be, I needed to just look for answers from the powers within… The powers within us both.

So again the question remains, what now?  Now I take the ‘lessons’ that I have learned and move forward.  The first lesson being, I can’t do this alone.. I can’t take my 1000s of hours of research and out-smart autism.. I can’t use my intellect to dig just a little deeper, work just a little harder, spend just a few more hours and then expect the answers to be revealed..  What I do now is I stand naked and vulnerable and ask for divinity.. I was not raised with religion nor did my upbringing include many conversations about the spirit world or God but I know now there is only so much that is in control of man.

I ask for prayers and support among the readers who find this.. I ask for compassion from onlookers at the grocery store who watch my 11-year-old child thrust himself upon the ground when this world becomes more than he can take.  It has become more than I can take too… I don’t give up.. No.. Never… But I surrender to the universe, I surrender to God and look for guidance.   I ask you now, God if there is a window of opportunity and that window has closed on my son that you place the rock in my hand strong enough to shatter it to pieces… Please help me find the way and I will not let you down.

Broken Window of Opportunity1
Broken Window of Opportunity!

 

P.S. Thank you for your time and attention.  Please support our campaign to raise funds for Aydan’s Son-Rise Program.

https://www.youcaring.com/aydan-boden-588027

 

 

 

 

 

 

Review of New Zine by Curious Peacock!

Amazing and long over-do. It is so refreshing to see fun and exciting, yet educational material for middle to highschool age children.

This material does a great job cutting through the myths and propaganda, while getting to the truth of the subject in an entertaining way that captures the student’s interest.

I’m looking forward to checking out the other zines. My 7th grade homeschooler is sure have fun with these.

To find the free download and check out Curious Peacock’s other articles, go to: https://www.teacherspayteachers.com/Product/Measles-Outbreak-2430100

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10 days (ish) of GAPS / SCD pies!

Let them eat pie…P14107481

Being on a restrictive diet; albeit a healing one can be daunting, especially if you’ve never been much of a cook.  As I mentioned in a previous post, I was not a natural Suzy home-maker.  I was not raised being taught how to cook, sew and garden like the generations before mine.  I found these acts of empowered survival to be tedious chores.  It was not until my 2nd child, Aydan regressed into autism and severe gut dysbosis after vaccination that I began to re-think my position.

When we started our journey into gluten and dairy free back in 2007, it wasn’t the high profile diet it is today.  There weren’t GF versions of everything from panko crumbs to oreo cookies.  It was just beginning to boom in popularity and I was willing to partake in whatever short-cut was available to me, until I realized this didn’t work.  Unless you’re a severe celiac, gluten is just a minor part of the problem.  As described in this article by SCD lifestyle, the 12 billion dollar gluten free fad has expanded from “health” food stores to everything from Wal-mart, Domino’s and gluten free Dunkin’ Donuts.  How can any of that be healthy?  It isn’t and it never was.  To think that the mainstream medical and agricultural industries are the only ones to want to make a buck off of sickness is pretty naive.  I was this naive at one time and loved the idea of a quick an easy gluten free waffle from Trader Joe’s but healing does not take place this way.

Leaky gut and dysbosis is epidemic and at the root of many autoimmune and neurological issues, as Natasha McBride explains in her book, the Gut and Psychological Syndrome.   Even Dr. McBride describes the non-cooks and how if you are one of these, it’s best to start with the full diet before doing the stages as it will help ween you into the habit of cooking everything from scratch.. the way people did before ‘food’ came in boxes and bags.  This is exactly what I did.

Before I knew anything about GAPS or Paleo, I read a little book called, Breaking the Viscous Cycle by Elaine Gottschal on the Specific Carbohydrate Diet which would become the basis for GAPS.  Elaine was not a scientist nor a doctor, she was a mom.. which made me trust her even more.  She was not selling anything, she was just trying to make sense of a diet that had been introduced to her by a doctor many years prior in order to prevent major surgery and heal her daughter from Ulcer Colitis.  Her daughter healed and I wanted in.. I wanted my son to heal too.  The science made sense to me.. monosaccharides or simple carbohydrates won’t aggravate the gut as complex (di/poly-saccharides) would.  I used to think of it as trying to walk on a broken leg, the leg could never heal that way and thus same is true for the gut; it could never heal were it constantly working to break down complex foods… Aha!

From there I was off… With a single cookbook and several printed recipes I went from never having made a pie-crust in my life to creating an entire SCD Thanksgiving dinner including pie.. Pumpkin and pecan (in case you were wondering).

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My family was supportive though maybe not as enthusiastic about the outcome and for years would always ask me if they could just cheat a little.. just one frozen pie, just one batch of stuffed mushrooms with Philly cream cheese..

 

 

Over the years under the consultation of nutritionist and doctors, I would change the diet several times, experimenting with Body Ecology, Low Oxalate, etc etc… but NEVER going back to the old pre-made way.. Once you know there’s no way to unknow..  This sounds easier than it is.. Several years ago, I wrote an article Autism, Cooking and Most of All, Love where I go into greater detail about the aches and pains of cooking on autism.  It hurts.. it does.. the social stigma, the friends, family, therapist and teachers.. even when well meaning can question, derail and just drive you nuts.  Eh hem….

mom-knows

So, here we are in 2016, back on SCD /GAPS having gone through the stages last Summer, we are in full swing.  For this month of February, I needed a birthday cake.. two actually.  My oldest son and my biggest food critic was turning 13 and when I asked him what he wanted a couple weeks before the big event, he let me know in no uncertain terms ‘not an Aydan friendly cake and not a cake at all.. but rather a pie.’  At first not caring what type of pie but later driving inspiration from the hit indie game, Undertale, he requested a Butterscotch cinnamon pie… Now I had gotten better over the years; not only was my cooking good, it was damn good and I could bake the grain free with the best of them.. Though maybe not as pretty as the average food blogger, it was served up fresh daily with lots of love and hard work.  Very little have I accomplished in my life that I am more proud of then learning to cook wholesome foods for my family.  But pie???? Oh my… And something I had never even thought of butterscotch… Well..  Approximately 10 days before the venture, my husband suggests I go on an experiment, ‘try making a pie everyday up until his birthday.. a count down..’  I took the challenge and have compiled a list of the recipes I tried.. And as for Aydan he loves it when he finds me in the kitchen often combining two of his favorite ASL signs, ‘make’ and ‘eat’ to let me know I’m on the right track.  He’ll even volunteer assistance which I LOVE!!

Okay… So enough with the build up.. here we go…

WIN_20160124_12_01_33_ProDay 1: Crust less Pumpkin Pie.  I did this one because it was what I had in the house to work with.. I took Aydan and the baby to the library only to return home and find the entire pie gone.  The soon to be 13 year old got hungry and it was that good.  I made another for dessert and served it with Coconut Vanilla (dairy free) ice-cream.

Day 2: Real Food Banana Cream Pie.  Again just what I had around the house and I did not use the vanilla stevia.  Instead I used honey to taste, you don’t need a lot as bananas and coconut are naturally sweet.

Day 3: Coconut Cream Pie.  Also AIP friendly.

Day 4: Blueberry Pie.  I got the 13 year old in on this one and made it a homeschool project.  We didn’t make the top crust and used a different crust recipe which was so good it would become my crust choice from here on out: Dan’s awesome pie crust.

Day 5: Apple pie crumble.  I started on a key-lime but it needed to gel overnight, so I went back to a tried and true dessert I make frequently.  Super easy and inspired by a recipe from my first SCD cookbook, Cooking to Heal Little Tummies.

Ingredients:

-5/6 Apples peeled and cored

-1-2 Tablespoons of Cinnamon

-1 Stick of butter

-2 1/2 cups of almond flour or meal

Instructions: Pre-heat oven 325 degrees.  Cook apples over medium heat in a skillet with coconut oil or butter.  Don’t over-soften as they’ll end up in the oven.  Add cinnamon, I will sometimes also add nutmeg, ginger or cardamom.  Remove from heat and place into a pie pan.  Blend Almond flour and butter.  Add crust paste to top covering completely.  Heat about 15-20 minutes.

P.S. This recipe can just as well make a pear crumble or a berry crumble just don’t skillet fry before-hand.

Day 5: Key Lime Pie with Dan’s Awesome Scd crust.  My oldest son and biggest critic loved this one the most.  Big hit!

Day 6: Lemon Pie.  This tasted a bit like yoplait yogurt and wasn’t as popular as the others so far but was still pretty good.

Day 7: Dairy Free Pear Custard.  Okay this is not a pie but can be used in a pie as any custard or pudding can.

Day 8: Lemon Meringue Pie, This was a huge hit with my husband.  Though my son, Aydan LOVES pecans, he is mildly allergic and tolerates almond a bit better, so I stuck with Dan’s Awesome Crust recipe and didn’t use the one described by the Nerdy Farm Wife.  WIN_20160131_15_07_31_Pro

My husband loved this one so much that he asked me to make this again for his birthday, also the first week of February.  I made two just in case.

Day 9: Chocolate Cake with Almond butter frosting.  Chocolate is not allowed on SCD but on GAPS, Natasha McBride says it’s an okay once in a while but only on the full diet and after sincere healing.  Again, not a pie but I got busy and took a break to return to a tried and true recipe.  This was really well received the first time I made but less so the second.  I never used the almond slivers and I’m not sure what I did differently that made it better the first time.  I think I added more butter and less almond butter in the frosting as the biggest complaint was the almond butter was overwhelming.

For my husband’s birthday I made this chocolate cake with buttercream frosting instead.. Yes, I made 2 lemon merinuges and a chocolate cake!! You don’t have to tell me it’s time for detox but it was a party and a great way to end the holidays.

Day 10: Birthday!! Butterscotch Cinnamon pie! Old habits die hard and for the big day my son did not want to sway his position on a non-Aydan friendly pie.  He insisted upon his Undertale inspired Butterscotch cinnamon after seeing this reconstruction from Feasts of Fiction. maxresdefault

So in order to include everyone, I made two pies. Here’s the SCD / GAPS version.

I used my old favorite Dan’s pie crust (which has cinnamon in it) and this recipe for Butterscotch pudding as the filling, then topped it with coconut whipped cream.

Now I know that this is not a regular practice in the process of gut healing as explicitly described here as a common mistake in GAPS by the Healthy Home Economist. You can’t go hog-wild with baking and especially nut flours.

And I also know that for those who have been following my writing for a while this sort of thing strikes as a bit soft ball.. after all, I’ve been the hard hitting, anti-establishment autism mom witch … I assure all of you, I still got it in me.. I have not nor will I ever forgive the pharma shilling powers that poison our children but for now, I can think of nothing more empowering and healing than being a stay-at-home.. A mom who is truly present, truly listening, truly healing, truly loving (or mostly and always trying)… Oh… And not to mention gardening, fermenting, baking, doing laundry, doing dishes, nursing, cleaning poopy diapers, scrubbing toilets and all around kicking ass..  (I know.. it’s hard, I am NOT a super mom… And it’s harder than that.. I’m an autism mom and believe me I’m exhausted)..

But for now, I choose to take lemons and make lemon pie… 6e51b9fda59927b7ae4ebabb1cb39340

Happy eating and healing!!
(References in the body of the essay).

 

Birthing in America, Part 1: Setting the Stage for Autism!

As a mother of 3, you could say I have some experience giving birth.  Each one was their own unique experience and I mean that sincerely, not in a new agey ‘you’re a unique snowflake’ sort of way.

The first two were done the birthing in America fashion by which I mean the OB/GYN, pee on stick, step on the scale and cry.. My oldest son, now 11 was pretty much a standard pregnancy.  Being my first I didn’t know what to expect, so I read ‘the book’.. yes that one, ‘What to Expect, When You’re Expecting.’  You might say it was my bible at the time.  I read it cover to cover, several times.. I can’t remember if the book talks about midwives, I’m sure it did but that wasn’t an option available to me, as when you birth in America, you realize quickly that you’re not in charge of how you give birth; the insurance companies determine that and whether it be private or government instituted, THEY are in control.. not YOU!  So I went to the insurance covered in network provider. I cried each time they put me on the scale, they told me I was too fat and gave me the following nutrition advice, ‘don’t drink juice anymore..’ that’s it.  They sent me to do the ultrasound where I got the first picture of the baby and learned the sex, even though I didn’t want to know.  They injected me with needles that drew my blood and tested for things, most of which I never learned what or why, they had me strip down naked, where a paper dress and lie on a bed with my feet in stirrups, so that my vagina was as wide open and exposed as possible to make it easier for them to insert a hard cold metal object inside me.  This allowed them to poke their fingers around the inside of my uterus.. shockingly.. even before I was pregnant I never enjoyed this practice, the doctors would always tell me I was ‘too sensitive’.  Yeah.. it’s ME

After I was about 3 days past my due date, they told me to plan an induction of labor.  When I told them about how ‘the book’… my bible said that induction wasn’t necessary at this point they complied but unwillingly and sent me to receive more ultrasounds.. I was stressed.. I cried more… they had set up an induction on Friday that I declined and ultrasound on Monday which I accepted and later that evening, I went into labor.. NATURALLY.. my water broke in my bed the following morning.  I know it’s hard to believe but babies were born prior to the invention of pitocin (the serum used to induce labor in case you didn’t know) and my son, Avery was one of those babies.  I went to the hospital, had an epidural, delivered without complication, he was placed into a plastic bassinet with bright lights and strangers cleaning, examining, poking, prodding and eventually cutting of the tip of his winky. This is considered a ‘normal’.. ‘successful’ even, birth in America.. How can that be, you ask?  And how do I know? Because it gets worse.. much much worse, as I would find out the second time around.

Two years after my oldest son was born, I would have another son.  I went to the same in network provider, had pretty much the same experience except one of the doctors at the practice was no longer there, so the wait at the office went from about an hour to upwards of 2 hours per visit.  I gained a little more weight the second time around, even though I was considered fat the first time, the second time was even worse.  I wasn’t offered any nutrition advice, though they tested me for diabetes twice, both times were negative.  I never had an abnormal pap smear, I never had high blood pressure, aside from a little low iron, I had a normal, healthy pregnancy.. other than my unexplained fatness which would cause a panic throughout the office by about month 8 or 9.. In all honesty, I didn’t gain that much weight but the size of my uterus was apparently an inch or so larger than it was supposed to be.. according to them.  The solution to this problem was to induce labor, once again, even before my expected due date.  I reminded the doctor of the ‘book’s’ word and that it was not medically necessary at this time to do so, his response and I quote ‘There’s nothing worse than giving birth to a DEAD baby..’ Honest to God that’s what he said.  I left the office that day a nervous wreck, crying uncontrollably while driving myself home.  The doctor’s solution was the same as before.. more ultrasounds.. of which I would end up having about 5-6, as opposed to the 2-3 the first time around.  Each visit would require about a 2 hour wait in the office, often with my then 2 year old son in tow.. yeah.. fun!

About 3 days after my due date, the doctor asked me to reconsider the induction.. I did and went to the hospital for a planned birth.  The nurse examined me with the fun cold metal object and stuck her hand way up my uterus where she would declare that the baby had ‘not dropped..’ meaning that the baby hadn’t dropped to my cervix yet.  ‘Why would the doctor plan an induction, when the baby hadn’t dropped?’ She would ask me.. I had no answer.  Later she would ask the same of my doctor, declaring ‘She’s sky high!’ Without looking at me or anyone in the room, he would quickly glance at my chart, hand it back to the nurse and state ‘high blood pressure’, as he walked out the room and down the hall.  The nurse chasing the doctor down the hall with my chart in hand, I could hear screaming, ‘there’s no high blood pressure.. her blood pressure is fine..’  Mind you at this point the nurse had already followed doctor’s orders and hooked me up to an IV that delivered the pitocin causing me to go into full blown labor with contracting and all.

A few minutes later in the  middle of a contraction, the nurse would walk into the room and say the doctor ordered to stop the induction.  She unhooked the IV, propped me up and sent me home.  I would continue to have active contractions for the next several hours.  It didn’t feel good.

By this time my mom was visiting, as I was supposed to have an induced labor and she would be around to help but there was no baby delivered yet.  She watched my 2 year old while my husband and I went to do the next ordered ultra-sound.  The ultra-sound tech or doctor or whatever he was, brought us into his office.  He said, ‘you’re baby is around 10 pounds, you’re too small to deliver it, you should have a C-section..’  I was horribly terrified as I had read in “the book” about the unnecessary numbers of C-sections done in this country, of the complications and that any future children would all have to be delivered via C-section.  I was certainly thinking I wanted more children and did not wish to have this surgery every time.  My husband would calmly nod his head and turn to the ultra-sound dude (I believe that was his official title) and ask the following question, ‘If she were your wife..’ ‘I don’t have a wife’, he interjected.. ‘Okay, if she were your sister.. what would you advise her to do?’ my husband continued.. ‘If this were my sister, I would advise her to have the baby vaginally’, WHAT?  Then what the fuck, ultra-sound dude?  Why?  Why did you just tell me to have a C-section??

I came home from that visit in shambles, I went into the shower and suddenly had a feeling of panic.  The baby in my uterus which had always been very active was not moving.. In my gut I felt the ultra-sounds were harmful but in my fear I proceeded with doctor’s orders.  I had no indication that this might be the case, ‘the book’ said they were safe.. I had asked these questions the first time around, ‘were these things safe?’  No one.. except maybe my husband, who seemed to be mistrusting of all medical procedures would say they might not be.. He then told me about the whales.  Large sea mammals would beach themselves on shore and die when the navy conducted sonar testing in the ocean.. Sonar meaning sound.. ultrasounds?!  Sound waves could kill a whale under water.. hmm.. I came out the shower not thinking of the whales but my own baby.  He wasn’t kicking.. ‘he’s different, he’s not the same..’ I said, crying in fear.. My mom and husband would come to console me with worried looks upon their faces.  The baby kicked and my worries began to subside… sort of.. In the back of my mind I would always ponder.. should I have left the office during those 2 hour visits.. were so many ultra-sounds necessary.. what did they tell us anyway.. These questions were never spoken by me at the time and would eventually leave my head.. That is for several years, when they did in fact return.

The next bit of advice from I don’t remember who, was to go on a long walk… So my husband, my 2 year old, my mother and I, all went to the LA Zoo where we spent hours walking..  It was a nice spring day in April.  The next day I was to go back to the hospital and try to induce labor again but a funny thing began to happen on the way to the hospital.. I started having contractions.. on my OWN!  No pitocin, just a walk in the zoo and the baby was coming.  We checked in, which was another long wait.. Then a very old man with a wheel chair pulled up. He was to take me to the deliver room.. We got into an elevator and went to one of the floors, it wasn’t the right floor.. he looked confused. My husband said, “I know where to go, just let me take her..”  “No, we can’t do that..” said the old guy, “..it’s against hospital policy..”  In circles we went until about 30 minutes later we found the right floor and were directed to the right room.. the old guy had said that the building was being remodeled and he was confused.. yeah, we noticed.

In the delivery room, I was put into another paper dress, where I would lie down on a bed with my feet in stirrups, more examinations by the nurse, another IV with a deliver of pitocin.. why more pitocin, given that I was already in active labor?  To speed up the process of course.. The process was sped, I was about 9 cm dilated.. The anesthesiologist came in to deliver the epidural.  He had me sit up as he attempted to give me a spinal tap.. In active labor and excruciating pain, I would attempt to sit still for over an hour.. ‘I have a strange spine’, he would say.. Again.. I’m defective.. It’s never a failure of the system, incompetence or an unnecessary procedures.. no.. it’s always YOU.. or in this case.. ME!  After a little over an hour and several stabs into my back (I think we counted 20 or so by the marks left behind), I said ‘no.. I’m done…’ I sent the anesthesiologist away and decided to do it without pain killers.  The nurse felt for me and gave me a little codeine for the pain and a little valium for the stress (I think, I can’t fully remember, she gave me something).

Then the doctor finally enters the room, he walks over to me without a word, without a look, without an anything and as if he is Moses himself, parting the Red Sea, he sticks his hand up my vagina and breaks my water.. he then leaves the room.  I look to my husband and ask, ‘did he just break my water?’ ‘Yes’ and that was it for the next several hours.  The nurse and my husband would act as the birthing coaches until the last crucial minutes when the doctor, whom I lovingly now refer to as ‘Dr. GodComplex’ would re-enter to instruct me what to do.. I don’t remember what he said..  My husband would try to assist to which Dr. GodComplex would instruct him to ‘shut up or he’d be kicked out of the room’.  Eventually the nurse would come around to whisper in my ear, ‘push really hard.. a C-section requires a spinal tap and you don’t want to have to go through that again..’  Oh yeah.. the anesthesiologist.. the 20 holes in back.. NO.. I certainly didn’t and I pushed… pushed and pushed more until that 9 pound 9 ounce big boy finally emerged.  I was exhausted!

They took him from me immediately and did the plastic bassinet with the lights and the strangers and the eventual clip of the winky.. I was sent to the recovery room to sleep.  When I awoke there was no one there.. My mom was back at the house with the two year old, I didn’t know where my husband was and there was no baby.  I called the nurse to find out what was going on.. ‘let me find out..’ Around the clock different nurses would enter the room.  In an increasing panic, I would ask where the baby was.. ‘let me find out..’  I could barely walk, so running down the hall was not an option.. all I could do was keep calling.. Eventually, 6 hours later, the nurse would emerge with baby in tow.. ‘we pricked his foot and his blood sugar was low, so we gave him some formula,’ she tells me.. ‘But I instructed no formula, as I’m planning to breastfeed,’ I answer back to which I receive no reply… ‘Well I guess if you had to…’ I continued a little disappointed to not be my son’s first feeding experience but I’d manage, it would be okay..

The next day everyone was there.. In laws, mother, 2 year old and husband.. I would tell the story about the 6 hour wait and the formula.  My husband looking over my medical chart turns to me with a confused look, ‘it doesn’t say his blood sugar is low..’  No? What does it say?  ‘It says they couldn’t find YOU..’  Oh right.. remember the old guy who didn’t know where to go because the building had been remodeled?  ‘..they couldn’t find you, so they gave the baby formula because he was hungry..’ Angry my husband continues.. ‘if you can’t breastfeed him, it will be their fault..’  Nervous but not too nervous, as I had just come off of a successful breastfeeding run for the past two years.. I could do it again, I thought and I did.. We did!  He had a little trouble latching on the first few days but the milk came in and we managed to recover from our birthing in America experience..

Later after the vaccines took my son, Aydan, my second born, into a world called autism, I would think back to these early memories.  The mainstream and even alternative medicine world will claim ‘its a combination of genetics and environment, that cause autism’.. Hmm.. saying vaccine induced autism is a combination of genetics and environment is a bit like saying the fall-out victims at Chernobyl who got cancer were ‘genetically pre-disposed to cancer’.. I mean not everyone exposed to fall-out got cancer… right?  (If you don’t understand that comment than you haven’t looked into vaccines, I suggest you do that now).

So these constant misleading and often ridiculous arguments about genetics would leave me feeling numb.. it’s always YOU.. and in this case ME.. Which of course it was me but not my faulty genetics. It was me that felt in my ignorance and fear to forgo my internal instinct to put trust.. or not trust even, more like compliance into a system that did not, would not and will not care about me.. or my son… A system that does not respect or even understand, the life saving, natural, birthing and bonding process… A system comprised of a band of rapist who will tell you, you are ‘too sensitive’ when you find your rape disagreeable.. A system that will brand your child with a serial number on your way out the door, as they have you sign a piece of paper agreeing to pay whatever amount of the $10,000 – $30,000 hospital bill your insurance does not pay.. I mean, how can you put a price on a ‘complication free’ birth, right?  Oh and don’t worry, you’ll be able to write it off on your taxes… And that, my friends… is Birthing in America!

Please stay tuned for the next installment of ‘Birthing in America’ and more in the upcoming book…

Or website and radio show archives at Truther Talk: http://truthertalk.com/

References:

-Are Ultrasounds Causing Autism: http://www.thedailybeast.com/witw/articles/2013/04/29/are-ultrasounds-causing-autism-in-unborn-babies.html

-Autism and Induced Labor: http://www.sciencebasedmedicine.org/autism-and-induced-labor/

-Harm and Physical Effect of Circumcision: http://www.circinfo.org/Warren.html

There are now a multitude of studies that show that mothers and babies should be together, skin to skin (baby naked, not wrapped in a blanket) immediately after birth, as well as later: http://www.nbci.ca/index.php?option=com_content&id=82:the-importance-of-skin-to-skin-contact-&Itemid=17

This article was originally released on the old blog 11/29/2014: http://aydansrecovery.blogspot.com/2014/11/birthing-in-america-part-1-setting.html