tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70279784649066034682024-03-19T07:40:30.016-05:00Lavender EssenceMy journey through grief and motherhoodbarefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-30953227533402155862007-06-20T14:41:00.000-05:002007-06-20T15:07:50.656-05:00Dr. FleaI wasn't going to go here. I've tried really hard to stay away, but here I go anyway.<br /><br />Remember this guy? <a href="http://barefootmamma1.blogspot.com/2006/12/this-will-be-only-my-third-post.html">Here's</a> a link to my own blog because OOPS! the supermega blogstar's blog is gone!<br /><br />Want to know what happened? Well, the short story is, his ego got way out of control. <a href="http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2007/05/31/blogger_unmasked_court_case_upended/">Here's</a> the long story, which I very accidentally ran accross, having no intention of ever going back to his blog again. <br /><br /><br /><br />Just a friendly reminder to do your best to choose a doctor with a smaller EGO, as difficult as that may be.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-73852847314481626292007-06-15T14:29:00.000-05:002007-06-15T14:54:09.259-05:00I'm here!I haven't disappeared from the planet. Blogging seems to be something I can't make time for lately!<br /><br />We had the one year anniversary of Marissa's death last June 11. We turned off the phone and nobody got their calls returned. We did get a few messages from people letting us know they love us and were thinking of us and that really truly means the world to me, so THANK YOU to our friends who did that for us.<br /><br />On June 11, we each wrote a letter to Marissa. Then we "sent" them to her by burning them with the fire from a candle lit in her honor. At the same time she died, we planned to be at the park that sits below the hospital window dh and I were looking out as we held her and let her go. That was an adventure! The park is halfway down what is termed "medical hill" (ick~ but that's another story). The parking situation anywhere within the vicinity of downtown is truly sad, so we parked way at the top of the hill and had to walk most of the way down to get to the park. On the way, our 5 year old decides he must go to the bathroom right NOW. So he and I race across the street and luckily find a bathroom at the community college on the other side. We race back across the street and the 4 year old must go to the bathroom right NOW. So she and I race across the street. We race back, to discover she has left her incense in the bathroom. So I race back accross and find the incense. OK! We were off to an interesting start!<br /><br />We made it to the park, which is a term used extremely loosely here. What it really is, is a very small strip of land with a huge drop-off going the rest of the way down medical hill on one side and a busy street on the other. We made it just in time (Marissa's official time of death was 7:41PM) and lit our incense. Then the baby started crying because he wanted to get down and crawl around and my 7 year old started really sobbing uncontrolably. I think this was good, but I was really afraid she would pass out. She was hyperventilating the whole time we were there and all the way back up the hugemongous hill, which seemed a whole lot bigger going in the other direction with 5 little kids; two of them needing to be carried or pushed, and one of them sobbing. Everyone that walked by was checking us out, wondering what we were doing to her. <br /><br />All the kids stayed up late except the 2 year old, who crashed early. Venus was bright in the sky and was a beautiful sight from our house. The kids and dh wrestled in the front yard and seemed to have a great time. After they went to bed dh and I sat outside until about 1AM, sharing a bottle of wine sent to us by a dear friend. <br /><br />The day itself was kind of bad. It was long. Very very long.<br />The day before was worse. I think because it was a Sunday and she died on a Sunday. I was marking time that day. Noticing when the clock said 10:30 because that's when she coded. Remembering the drive to the hospital. Going through each and every event in my head. <br /><br />June has been hard. I woke up June 1 and knew it was June. I felt as though she had just died a couple weeks ago. It was not a shadow of the previous pain as I had expected it to be. It was the same sharp, unendurable pain. That was a surprise. But today I feel OK. I have hope and joy and can feel the promise of life. I don't know what tomorrow will be like, but I suppose any one of us could say that on all kinds of levels. <br /><br />So here I go. Moving forward. I have no choice. As long as she gives me some of those wonderful signs once in a while I'll be OK until I see her again.<br /><br />Oh! I should mention that the sky looked exactly the same that it did one year ago June 11. It was lavender with wispy clouds.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-1540771885213746822007-03-23T15:15:00.000-05:002007-03-23T15:43:48.387-05:00Roller coaster rideTruly. That's what this is. The highs are higher than I've ever experienced before. The feeling that things will be OK, that I was immeasurably blessed to have cared for Marissa in the short time that I had her; and that is enough~ except. Except it's not. The highs have an undercurrent of unbearable sadness. When the transitory good feeling passes in hours or days and possibly weeks, I know that what is left is this. Where I am now. <br /><br />I love school. I'm doing really well. Marissa led me here. It was so perfectly orchestrated. I was really high on that for a while. Now I'm back to what seems to be my set point. I thought about putting a positive spin on this, and I could, but that would not be the truth, and the truth is what matters most.<br /><br />It's spring. I love spring. Everything is reborn~ except Marissa. She's not here with me anymore. This is my first spring without her. The last pictures we have of her were taken last May, a few weeks before she died. May is coming soon. Time is totally crazy that way. I can't wrap my brain around it. How is it possible that my baby will be gone an entire year this summer?<br /><br />I very rarely cry. The pain seems so far beyond what simple tears could ever hope to relieve. I feel like such a fraud; walking around like things actually matter. Paying bills and cleaning the house as if I care at all. I talk to people on the phone and it just seems so stupid. We talk about nothing important and I pretend I'm fine.<br /><br />I watch the baby sleep and I can see his sister's face perfectly. I can't stand to look at him sometimes because it hurts too much. But at the same time I am intensely grateful that I can see Marissa so clearly in him. <br /><br />How do people live with this pain? And the roller coaster? Does it even out eventually? And at what cost? Do I have to forget what it was like when she was alive? Do I just become numb to it all?<br /><br />As I finished this post, my 7 year old brought me a handful of lavender flowers she found growing by the house. Hi Rissa Roo:o)barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-59163079311934978502007-03-09T09:14:00.000-05:002007-03-09T09:32:45.066-05:00Those everyday things that go wrong..........and moreWe woke up yesterday to a broken bathroom faucet and had to spend all day with the water shut off. My dh had to work, and I hear that plumbers are outrageously expensive. I am so grateful for the internet because I was able to google plumbing troubleshooting and come up with what might be wrong. This morning dh is off to Home Depot or some place like that to get a new seal. Meanwhile, the water is still off! I turned it on briefly this morning and raced through a pile of dishes as fast as I could and got things wiped up and flushed the toliets. Yeah, that was the best part with 7 people in the house~ no way to flush the toliets. :P Lucky for me, dh is able to fix it. We are also blessed that we happen to have a bunch of bottled water, so we won't be thirsty and I can have my coffee.<br /><br />I haven't posted for a while. I'm in school! I love it. In high school you couldn't get me to go to class and I graduated by the skin of my teeth and a couple teachers who knew I could and should do better. I went to college and hated it. Well, the school part I hated. I did like the classes in my major, but truly I didn't care at all about the other ones. Studying was a chore and I pretty much did the last minute cram thing. So I graduated and worked in a job that wasn't even in my field and now have been at home with my kids for the last 9 years or so. This is different. This is homeopathy. I LOVE it. I was studying it before anyway, but now I get to work toward my degree, which gives me even more incentive. I just got my first papers back and got A's on all, plus extra points. :o) I don't think anyone's ever seen me give a damn about an A before. Well, I am quite a bit older now, my partying days are well behind me, and, well, like I said, it's homeopathy.....how can you not love that?barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-80100688834800090072007-02-22T21:48:00.000-05:002007-02-22T22:24:42.268-05:00Law of Attraction<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0jG_d9BLBoB7H6vPH_DMR5boqDpItHWmaX7LE0PJ5iRBxtR2MjNELzLT-GRC_GTBWHsOQuPS9cZw_GotlMRjajQs02RfX93whptFvWaMMmogBI19VAtWONIRPaWpyCby4K31MGmROUsQ/s1600-h/images-1.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0jG_d9BLBoB7H6vPH_DMR5boqDpItHWmaX7LE0PJ5iRBxtR2MjNELzLT-GRC_GTBWHsOQuPS9cZw_GotlMRjajQs02RfX93whptFvWaMMmogBI19VAtWONIRPaWpyCby4K31MGmROUsQ/s320/images-1.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034565281855599170" /></a><br />This is the whole "Secret" phenomenon. Something I think most people inherently know anyway, but it makes it seem easier somehow. We all know people who are negative about everything and conversations with those people always go in the same direction. We spend lots of time hearing them wonder aloud why these things always happen to them. It is often perfectly clear to the rest of us.<br /><br />That's all the Secret is. It's focusing on the positive power of attraction, which is so easily lost in the negative. It seems to be human nature to focus on negative energy. We are glued to CNN and coverage of the war and Anna Nicole Smith and how awful it all is. How many positive stories are covered? They are rare indeed. So I will give the movie that. It helps us pay attention to the positive and gives us concrete ways to do it. It also has been able to reach a huge number of people. That can only be good. Our world certainly needs something like that right about now.<br /><br />What cracks me up about the Secret is how ancient these ideas are. Again, this is stuff we all know, we've just managed to forget~ I include myself here. This is the essence of ancient religions. I liken it to creating your own Karma, or Reaping what you sow, with more intention. <br /><br />So I had an amazing experience regarding this LoA. I was on MDC complaining about how people want me to "do" something other than be a mom and how I didn't want to do that. One of the members reminded me that others are merely reflecting back to me what I believe to be true in myself. That was a bit of a revelation for me. (I know these things are painfully obvious to others, but they are so hard to see in ourselves) I realized I really did want to do what I thought others wanted me to do. And within one day, the opportunity fell into my lap. I discovered the British Institute of Homeopathy has a complete 3 year homeopathy course, at the end of which I can take the CHC exam and be an actual, legitimate, professional homeopath. This degree requires NO travel. This piece is important because the reason I could never see myself getting the degree is that all of the schools are very far away and require me to be present on many occasions for seminars and tests and so forth. The icing on the cake is that the very day I discovered this, our tax refund was deposited into our account and it is enough that I can pay for this! It will also fit quite nicely in the three year gap I am looking for before inviting the next baby in.<br /><br />I am so excited that I can't sleep! I was awake much of last night thinking about how wonderful this is. I will start my studies next week and I can not WAIT. Homeopathy speaks to me like nothing else. I am certain this is the direction my life is meant to go in.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-89067353282486586472007-02-11T14:27:00.000-05:002007-02-11T15:23:07.617-05:00My shameless plugIf you know anyone who needs a child's walker, please send them here:<br /><br />http://cgi.ebay.com/Rifton-Pacer-502-gait-trainer-walker-MEDIUM-used-once_W0QQitemZ150089801231QQihZ005QQcategoryZ28176QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem<br /><br />OK, I do see that I can insert hyperlinks here, but I am now officially out of time and patience, so anyone who wants to can cut and paste. Sorry! I am working on my lack of computer literacy little by little.<br /><br />Also, this apparently does not work at all on Firefox. I can only see the whole link on Safari. Amazing~ weren't computers supposed to make our lives easier??<br /><br />This was my daughter's walker. She sat in it one time and was never healthy enough to use it. We got it just weeks before she died. It's as new as you can get, and we don't want nearly as much as it costs in it's present condition. Rifton sells this exact one for almost $3,000. For someone without good insurance, this would be a good thing.<br /><br />That was my shameless plug. We really, really need this to sell.<br /><br />Thanks for reading:) And now you can check out my knitting below;o)barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-56906162964842377412007-02-11T13:58:00.000-05:002007-03-23T19:28:54.785-05:00I knit, tooI am really not good at taking pictures, and even less good at uploading them to the computer. I guess it's not high on my priority list, for whatever reason.<br /><br />So I finally uploaded a couple pictures of my knitting that I took around Christmas time. Most of the things I knit are given away right away, so I never get around to pictures.<br /><br />This is the wrap I knit for my mother in law. She asked for it a few months before Christmas. I was really happy with the way it turned out. I used a wool/alpaca blend to knit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIc0xwqgb3L-n9RV4uSPBTU8F2k8nEQhgUi7ttiSiUYa7IfKNJWbg1qIfB7sF7jowxmsK9LRi4VP6oB23BcASc3q5rK_2uuGiGgNw_BEha3DUjezae6es_OnTNbtD1wGSWxsSYxCf166T3/s1600-h/DSCF0565.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIc0xwqgb3L-n9RV4uSPBTU8F2k8nEQhgUi7ttiSiUYa7IfKNJWbg1qIfB7sF7jowxmsK9LRi4VP6oB23BcASc3q5rK_2uuGiGgNw_BEha3DUjezae6es_OnTNbtD1wGSWxsSYxCf166T3/s320/DSCF0565.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030354747298989746" /></a><br /><br />This is a hat I knit for my niece. She was SO cute in it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWap7FATBlfac5rM1_VFrYgcWuQoMDDEzj8HzAvZCIqh1QEdA-6xLJxUwpCjWhhyphenhyphenGLqneOfiSrIdwArLZewCvwdUv7-fpNLoZ_X2hsrrVykntt8LrXsSAaz9aW4cda_93ViL4McZnqjo5z/s1600-h/DSCF0566.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWap7FATBlfac5rM1_VFrYgcWuQoMDDEzj8HzAvZCIqh1QEdA-6xLJxUwpCjWhhyphenhyphenGLqneOfiSrIdwArLZewCvwdUv7-fpNLoZ_X2hsrrVykntt8LrXsSAaz9aW4cda_93ViL4McZnqjo5z/s320/DSCF0566.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030355490328331970" /></a><br /><br />I would LOVE to contribute to the family income with my knitting. I haven't been able to figure out how to do that, though. Pretty sure my husband would love that too. For now I'll just continue knitting for those I love, which is reward enough in itself. I am working on a very cute cabled baby sweater for either my nephew or a friends baby due in March. Probably the latter, since my nephew is growing so fast.<br /><br /><br />Oh, I almost forgot I have a picture of a sweater I knit for my mom.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoO25aWa0Yz6nxXcA6P6Eypz4_z2x6AXblUlzweQjKXqPDjczJaPApM6sM7AErw14s55be20DomspNqO8rdmKGI8CgQWQmJf1aub_fvfk21hlEOcjBQ7RYe95hN6pGlrtht9WsvWnxv_kl/s1600-h/DSCF0576.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoO25aWa0Yz6nxXcA6P6Eypz4_z2x6AXblUlzweQjKXqPDjczJaPApM6sM7AErw14s55be20DomspNqO8rdmKGI8CgQWQmJf1aub_fvfk21hlEOcjBQ7RYe95hN6pGlrtht9WsvWnxv_kl/s320/DSCF0576.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030643055568668370" /></a>barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-68785032037912961232007-01-26T22:39:00.000-05:002007-01-26T22:57:04.290-05:00Sleep<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX3xDVviPOoufXg770ncTCLUa7s16PdNxfbgzk1F4eUa5vHNVurfHirkD1XLYK9ybsNvQf8Ys1zmNoYc6UsorL0W0hIbbA5tWORB4ErmRPWup0vnjQ9dqaEhSePhtjdFVWM6V0l4JurQBm/s1600-h/images-1.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX3xDVviPOoufXg770ncTCLUa7s16PdNxfbgzk1F4eUa5vHNVurfHirkD1XLYK9ybsNvQf8Ys1zmNoYc6UsorL0W0hIbbA5tWORB4ErmRPWup0vnjQ9dqaEhSePhtjdFVWM6V0l4JurQBm/s320/images-1.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5024554312920844306" /></a><br />Sleep deprivation is not fun. I understand why it's used as torture when I am nursing a babe who jerks awake repeatedly, just as I am about to nod off. My poor brain thinks it's about to shut down, only to be jarred back to life. Then there is the toddler, who for some reason has decided that nursing 5 to 7 times each night is a great idea. I try to tell her no, but she is loud. If you have little ones, you understand. The screaming wakes the whole house up. And believe me, the only solution is to give in and nurse. We try appealing to her toddler sensibility and beg her to please be patient while Mommy finishes nursing the baby. I try to get her to wait until the sun comes up, or to get "Daddy huggies", I've even promised to make cookies the next day. All to no avail. There is only one thing that will make her quiet, and that's nursies.<br /><br />The baby is learning to crawl, which is really cute. He is taking his sweet time. Pushing up on hands and knees and looking around for approval. Kids #2 through #5 were all zipping around on all fours at 5 months, pulling to stand at 6 months, and taking first steps at 8 months. I am enjoying this slower pace. This is the track Marissa was on. <br /><br />Anyway, I think that part of the baby's sleep difficulty comes from learning a new skill. Doesn't the brain rewire or something when new skills are learned? So for this reason, I want him to just go ahead and crawl. I am TIRED. I realize the outlet plugs will have to be plugged back in and the gate will have to go up at the top of the steps, and he will have to be vigilantly watched, but maybe I can rest at night so I can actually keep up with all that.<br /><br />So what the heck am I doing up right now when all the children are sleeping? I realize this is stupid. I am going to bed.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-70382552534719884922007-01-24T20:32:00.000-05:002007-01-24T20:48:57.750-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCXlCnyucccyUT3PrszBvn6VNB4RHbPnozCwyNmSWLFigsT6yqxs6y-fLLiQdIAhbumUucr2dU9anCruhwuEp5nvlWEt-WCzWAEz_VyA0_lLA17rBFrKqS5xaglQc-q-wXImjjd57-26w3/s1600-h/images.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCXlCnyucccyUT3PrszBvn6VNB4RHbPnozCwyNmSWLFigsT6yqxs6y-fLLiQdIAhbumUucr2dU9anCruhwuEp5nvlWEt-WCzWAEz_VyA0_lLA17rBFrKqS5xaglQc-q-wXImjjd57-26w3/s320/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023779105683654658" /></a><br />Last night I watched video of Marissa for the first time since she died. It was weird. I'm not sure how to put it into words. People used to say that pictures steal your soul. I can see how they would think that now. I saw her on the screen, but something was different. Not anything I can describe. Just a subtle difference. <br /><br />I watched Marissa as a 5 year old watching her brother and sisters play. I watched her sit in the leaves in the backyard as we all tried to get her in the spirit of fall and entice her to laugh. She just sat there grumpily. She didn't care to be outside for too long. I watched her on her 8th and final birthday, when the camera was all about her. <br /><br />There are two reasons I'm glad I watched the video. First, I got to hear her laugh and blow her raspberries. Those are two sounds I dearly miss. Second, I saw how her siblings love her. They went out of their way to include her in play, to talk to her, to make her laugh. Someone almost always had an arm around Rissa. I didn't realize how involved in her life they all were. I guess it's hard to pay attention in the moment.<br /><br />So I'm glad for the tapes. At the same time, I'm not sure how they make me feel. Maybe it's because it's nothing more than an image of my daughter, which is painfully apparent now that she is gone. But they will help me remember things I may otherwise have forgotten. And my living children will be able to look and remember when they get older as well.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-19863960164379379612007-01-15T21:48:00.000-05:002007-01-18T22:40:43.717-05:00MastitisEver heard how Incredibly. Painful. mastitis can be? That ain't no joke.<br /><br />I had mastitis (an infection of the milk ducts in the (usually) lactating breast) about a month ago. Oh, I felt awful. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I had a bad case of the flu. It was not fun, but I found my remedy pretty quickly and everything resolved. I just felt icky for a few days.<br /><br />Last Monday, I was cooking dinner at 4:00pm. I thought I felt like I might be coming down with something. I talked to my friend, trying to figure out what the remedy might be, after failing on my own. We came up with a few options, none of them hitting the mark, unfortunately. <br /><br />By 6:00pm, I was shaking like a leaf. I was freezing cold and hurt everywhere. I called dh at work and asked him what the soonest he could get home was. He didn't think he could be here before 9:00. I said that was fine, because that was the best he could do. I was SO cold that I got into a tub of very hot water, which probably was not the best idea in hindsight. I'm sure it pushed my already high fever up even higher, but even mountains of blankets weren't doing the trick.<br /><br />By 7:00pm I was lying in bed with the baby beside me, literally crying and rolling back and forth. I was in intense pain and had no idea what to do to mitigate it. I was incapable of caring for my children. My seven year old did an outstanding job following directions and herding everyone into my bedroom or nearby so I knew they were safe. <br /><br />Then I started throwing up. As I sat in the bathroom, I decided I needed to get to the hospital. There was no way on earth I was going to be able to wait until morning or even until dh got home. My seven year old went next door and our neighbors came immediately. One stayed with the kids and the other drove me to the hospital.<br /><br />I went to a small nearby hospital rather than the monster hospital downtown, and I'm glad I did because *nearly* everyone was very nice and respectful. Honestly, when the nurse left me in the room and asked if I had any questions, my only question was "How long until you give me pain meds?". I am not a wimp, by the way. I give birth at home unassisted for pete's sake. You would think a little bit of mastitis wouldn't bother me too much. But when dh finally got to the hospital I said "They pumped me full of drugs and I Do Not Care because I don't hurt anymore."<br /><br />After being discharged with the mandatory dose of antibiotics, an anti-nausea drug (Zofran), and whatever narcotic they put in my IV, I went home to continue vomiting. Whee! So not only did I have minimal sleep because drugged sleep is just not good sleep, but I had to awaken every hour to trudge into the bathroom and lean over the toliet. Yippee. BUT the pain was so much less that I did not care.<br /><br />So for 48 hours I threw up just about every hour. Thank goodness I finally took Bryonia and stopped that. I still felt immeasurably better than I would have. <br /><br />Some people think of me as completely anti western medicine. But I truly am not. I just think it is extremely overused. And I am still very glad I went to the ER last Monday.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-59506298890695828212007-01-15T21:19:00.000-05:002007-01-15T22:16:27.425-05:00The InternetI have a strange relationship with my computer. Periods of time will go by when I am on every day. I spend lots of time browsing MDC and other similar websites and perhaps blogs. I read about knitting. The kids and I look up random things such as the configuration of the galaxy (we can do that~ thank you unschooling:o)). And quite honestly, after a while, it becomes my escape. The kids start screaming and yelling and demanding, and I sit down to nurse the baby and pop the laptop open. I don't like it when I use it like that. I can zone out for quite a while. Nursing baby, prolactin flowing~ aaaaaaaah. I can barely hear the fighting.<br /><br />Soon I have to come back to reality; and in all honesty, "quite a while" for me is 15 minutes or so. But I don't feel refreshed, as I feel when I have truly taken time for myself~ a bath, a walk, etc. Instead I am more frustrated and find it even harder to continue on with my day. <br /><br />Then I have periods such as the one I happen to be in now. I'm not sure why or how this starts, but suddenly while cruising around the internet, I am bored. I lose interest in the goings-on of other people's lives. I get much more immersed in my family again. The time I spend on the computer is minimal and it doesn't bother me that it is.<br /><br />The internet is a crazy place anyway. It's not real, and it is, at the same time. I type words into my computer to try and help someone, or give my opinion, or just vent, and I know that somehow, someone somewhere could make the decision to delete it all. Weird. <br /><br />I've been told that those who followed my generation have a different perspective. Part of me is sad for that. We miss so much when we sacrifice our face to face and even phone interactions. I think it's important to be in a space where your family and real-life friends are all-consuming. <br /><br />I'm sure I'll be back on-line with more frequency again. It is one of the things I do while waiting for my husband to get home from work at night, after all. As in all things, I imagine the key is moderation.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-75471110686533013492006-12-27T20:28:00.000-05:002006-12-27T20:45:20.449-05:00I guess I should write about Christmas. <br /><br />You know, people who have been there, done that, will tell you things. Like people telling me that the holidays would be hard. And since we have a heads up, we think we will be prepared. We are never prepared. <br /><br />I used to sometimes wonder how I would react if Marissa died before me. I knew it would be awful, horrible, difficult to deal with. It is actually horrendous, horrific, and unspeakable. Those are the closest words I can think of. There truly are no words.<br /><br />So I was expecting a somewhat difficult Christmas. What I got was utter chaos, with me yelling much more than I wanted to or probably should have; children screaming and hitting and fighting and thinking of nothing more than getting to the next present. My MIL even threw a small fit via email when we failed to call her within the time window she expected. So I was very angry about that~ angry that I am supposed to fluff up people's egos when I am trying to get through my first Christmas without my daughter.<br /><br />Two days before Christmas (I think, or was it three?) the van was sideswiped. Then dh called from a pay phone at 12:30am to tell me the car broke down as he was getting off the freeway and he forgot his cell phone. He told me not to go get him because all the kids would have to get up, so he would walk. An hour later he called again and asked me to call him a cab because he was getting blisters on his feet. So the next day was spent using money that doesn't exist for us to get the stupid car off the road before it got impounded. This is why the MIL phone call didn't happen "on time". I replied very sweetly to her email~ we love you a lot, we aren't blowing you off, etc. Puke. WHY would I have to do that? This makes me very angry. Yes, I do love her, if you are wondering, but give me a freaking break.<br /><br />Not everything was bad. There were nice and wonderful things. I guess I need to wallow in my anger for now. Cause I am pissed. My daughter is not supposed to be dead. You are not supposed to die when you are eight years old. Period.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-175885462929648782006-12-22T19:44:00.000-05:002006-12-22T20:11:15.394-05:00What happened?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxwmcALmWp4XGLBZ_1hVi_-azxvL3WzZtwaiwZiycQT0u8Wy2B-BZa9q7xvY582kmnnrTlPoxaTmIzJgKfCeOJMqIMDaazq_pjgLvrw6P_NaLuegNI0WOyfUY86Zfkfb6cGUbbKc7urYar/s1600-h/32808196.wreck001Large.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxwmcALmWp4XGLBZ_1hVi_-azxvL3WzZtwaiwZiycQT0u8Wy2B-BZa9q7xvY582kmnnrTlPoxaTmIzJgKfCeOJMqIMDaazq_pjgLvrw6P_NaLuegNI0WOyfUY86Zfkfb6cGUbbKc7urYar/s320/32808196.wreck001Large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5011523612131935122" /></a><br />This morning, shortly before 9:00, I was standing at the kitchen sink, doing dishes. I had to play catch up because I (once again) did not get the previous night's dinner dishes done. I was looking out the window and saw my neighbor across the street backing out in her new SUV. I then saw her drive back and forth past my house a few times. I started to wonder if there was something wrong with my house, or perhaps a body in the yard. She parked and came to the door.<br /><br />I am of course still in my pajamas, as I always am at 9:00. Give me a break, I have five little children running around, the oldest of whom is seven. I normally get dressed around noon and yes, I'm OK with that.<br /><br />The neighbor begins with small talk about how we never see each other and isn't it funny that it is raining in December and by the way, I sideswiped your van. She tells me the damage is minimal~ "A small dent and a bit of paint". She wants to write me a check instead of having me go through her insurance. I told her I would talk to dh and see what he had to say about it. I felt bad because she was very apologetic and obviously truly felt awful. And I like her, generally, even though I could do without the parties she has when her parents are out of state.<br /><br />Neighbor left to run errands and I called dh. He had his phone off or something, so it took me a couple hours to get through. While I was waiting on him I went and looked at the van. Minimal damage, my ass. The whole panel in front of the gas tank was pushed in and a healthy amount of white paint from her SUV was left behind.<br /><br />When dh called, he was extremely irritated about the whole thing, but I think felt better about the fact that Neighbor felt so bad. At any rate, he wanted me to call the police, so I did. I also called Neighbor so she would be aware that they were coming and wouldn't be taken by surprise.<br /><br />The police showed up about a half an hour later. Two young guys. Much younger than me. When did that happen? How did all the cops get younger than me all the sudden? They told me in order to write an accident report, the damage has to be over $1,000. I stood there with them looking at the damage and remarked that yup, I believe that would be over $1,000. They then went to Neighbor's house and spoke to her at length. When they came back to my house, I was told that they were not going to write an accident report nor issue a citation because she was so terribly sorry. Gee, are you sure it's not because she's a 21 year old with long blond hair and big boobs? I'm suddenly feeling like the frumpy housewife. I wanted to tell them ~My boobs are bigger than hers, and I don't always look like this (probably I do), and I used to model (looong time ago), and.........oh crap, never mind. I might as well resign myself to being the frumpy housewife.<br /><br />I remember being 21 and able to talk myself out of stuff I REALLY should have gotten in big huge trouble for. Now I know how it feels to be on the other end. Girl bats eyelashes and frumpy housewife has to fight with insurance. Oh well. I didn't really want to see her get in trouble, it's just that there's a huge dent in my van.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-54468391228996550822006-12-18T22:26:00.000-05:002006-12-19T15:39:21.795-05:00The journey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCAhyDl8gGFyqxtVVJv9zsMzGaXWOBPGhrUU1WuY9okuf3CofFDOxpDBGWNTATRVIuz7CeqVtIDW0fF0y75BMpBaDfH0flSTrwGqlCK_QYa134lG2vUy10lWsvfNYnOZP05mbT4vaSLP0/s1600-h/images.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCAhyDl8gGFyqxtVVJv9zsMzGaXWOBPGhrUU1WuY9okuf3CofFDOxpDBGWNTATRVIuz7CeqVtIDW0fF0y75BMpBaDfH0flSTrwGqlCK_QYa134lG2vUy10lWsvfNYnOZP05mbT4vaSLP0/s320/images.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010340142483456898" /></a><br />Grief is described as a journey. And no matter how much support you have, it is a journey you must make alone. No one else can feel your pain, or think your thoughts, or catch your breath for you. <br /><br />I discovered yet another level to this grieving journey I am on. The feeling of betrayal. When those you love and care for so much decide that the way you are dealing with grief is not the correct way to do it. When they suddenly become uncomfortable with hearing your thoughts and feelings and even with being in your presence. When this happened to me, I felt as though my skin had been ripped away. I could feel the pain coursing through my bloodstream. Sounds odd, but it was a true, sharp, physical sensation. I wanted to escape it but I couldn't. It has moderated now, and left an ache in it's wake. I can deal with the ache. The urgent need to get away from it is gone. I wondered for a while if that is how people who are suicidal feel~ as if they must escape. I am not suicidal because I know that I am here for a reason~ one that is beyond my understanding. I value beyond measure anyone who has been willing to hear the depths of my pain. When I have to choke back mentioning my daughter I feel sick. My company today was not comfortable with the mention of Marissa's name. So I didn't say it. And I felt like I would throw up. I need to stop that. I want my living children to remember her and talk about her all the time, and I know they will take their cues from me.<br /><br />I am not the same person I was on June 10, 2006. I will never be that person again. In a split second while holding my dying daughter I understood what truly matters in life. What most of us merely pay lip service to, suddenly made sense on the most basic level. I still feel that, but the question is, can I stay true to myself? It's proving to be harder than I thought it would be.<br /><br />I don't write these things to make people feel uncomfortable or guilty or anything else. I write for myself and for those who unfortunately find themselves on a similar path. When I went looking for information such as this, I found very little. Grief is already very isolating. I want to make it OK to dive into the depths of emotion so that people can heal rather than suppress or ignore something so fundamentally important. Maybe I'll write a book (In my free time! Haha)<br /><br />I have been doing some research into grieving customs and it seems that a year is generally the bare minimum for intense grief. I hereby claim my year. After that perhaps I will consider the claims that I need to start to feel better. How can I ever feel better if I only suppress the indescribable pain and don't feel it?barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-60552824809342888642006-12-16T19:49:00.000-05:002006-12-16T23:19:25.776-05:00Is it Christmas yet?In this year that I have worried about Christmas for my children, my house is overflowing with presents for them. While I was busy feeling resentful of the family we adopted and took donations for so "they" could have a good Christmas, other wonderful people were busy making sure my children would have one, too. We have received many many boxes of goodies from MDC mamas. Then a RL friend handed me an armful of presents for my children out of the blue. As I was bringing them in from the van, my neighbor stopped to talk to me and let me know she had presents for each one of my children. One of my dh's coworkers called yesterday to ask when he could bring gifts for us. <br /><br />So I am reminded of Karma. What goes around comes around, you reap what you sow; and all that. I am quite honestly surprised, considering the negative attitude I had about our adopted Christmas family. I do seem to be over that now, thank goodness. We managed to find brand new bikes for each of their children, and did very well getting almost everything they needed and asked for. This Tuesday we will be delivering the presents and I am so excited to do that. We will need to make two trips because with all the presents and food, it will not fit into our full-size van!<br /><br />It has been a struggle to do for others in the midst of intense grief. But it has been healing as well. I think as our angel Marissa watches over us, she approves.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-39538545184456638822006-12-13T15:30:00.000-05:002006-12-13T20:21:53.644-05:00Memories<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81pnLItvQ2Tb76jjy3edKtJJjVu_zofcdLk3QvKUgxu_qsrA4an7Hb6QJ_xLJ5An_IYuhRN5Ofc6VxQnqBy7_i4nI3O-oyXoIo3Mh_rhGuQeZc-ChkjeRWoR32_Hbw3Pen1ZdkRJ13xm4/s1600-h/angel+1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81pnLItvQ2Tb76jjy3edKtJJjVu_zofcdLk3QvKUgxu_qsrA4an7Hb6QJ_xLJ5An_IYuhRN5Ofc6VxQnqBy7_i4nI3O-oyXoIo3Mh_rhGuQeZc-ChkjeRWoR32_Hbw3Pen1ZdkRJ13xm4/s320/angel+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008119199382039762" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />We ended up with a Christmas tree. I did not want one. I was frankly hoping that if I ignored Christmas it would go away. We have the tree because dh wanted one so badly. Putting it up wasn't too bad. It's pre-lit, so that helps. And we don't have to deal with that horrible tinsel we had at my house when I was a child. My parents would coach us to put it on one strand at a time. Ugh! Let's see how slow we can make time go. The cat loved to eat it, which invariably caused her to puke everywhere, which was not pleasant either.<br /><br />My mother in law brought ornaments she made in honor of each of my children yesterday. There were five of them. I said "There are only five". She said "Yes". That was the end of the conversation. I was thinking "What about my oldest daughter? How is it possible that you forgot to include her?". I didn't say any of that because my MIL is easily offended and it is often easier to not get into things like that. <br /><br />I do understand that people no longer know what to do or say around me. I try to help them by bringing up Marissa occasionally. This is the hint to go ahead and talk about her. Not many people get the idea, but some do. Mostly those who have experienced the death of someone close to them.<br /><br />So in honor of Christmas and my daughter, here is a little bit about her life:<br /><br />Marissa did not care about the vast majority of presents. What she cared about was the wrapping paper. She waited patiently for whoever was opening their present to finish so she could grab for the paper. We could have kept her happy just wrapping a box full of paper for her. Or that crinkly shiny paper; that was even better. <br /><br />Marissa had a very few favorite toys. Her favorite of all now sits on the shelf beside her ashes. It is a simple plastic toy which requires you to push the button on the top of it in order to make the colorful balls go around. She LOVED that toy. She could make it go really fast by banging on it repeatedly. <br /><br />Marissa loved to pull things onto the floor. Her favorite crashing objects were plates with food on them and glasses full of liquid. We learned that she needed to sit a bit farther away from the table than the rest of us. We also learned that she had an extremely long reach!<br /><br />Marissa did not like too much sun. She wrinkled up her cute little nose. It must have hurt her eyes. She also didn't like the cold, which comes as no surprise considering it must be easy to get cold when you are non-mobile.<br /><br />Marissa was my angel in life and now in death. There was always something wondrous about those brilliant blue eyes she had. She knew things the rest of us can only guess. My baby. I miss her so much.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-85514748169370702882006-12-10T11:01:00.000-05:002006-12-11T17:58:35.406-05:00Done with the FleaThis will be only my third post regarding this ridiculous debate over my daughter. I do not know how one becomes a "mega blogstar", but I have neither the desire nor the time to attempt to become one or to argue with one. I have 5 small children still living and who need my care and attention. <br /><br />Last I read on his blog, Flea claims to have read his post nearly a dozen times. His errors have been brought to his attention. The things he purports to be in Marissa's story are simply not there. He refuses to or is incapable of understanding the printed word when it is not in line with his own thought process. Arguing with irrational people is always pointless. He appears to have quite a following of young medical students and residents, so I will leave them all to their fun and brainwashing after this.<br /><br />To deny that adverse reactions exist is to deny evidence which has been proven by the medical community itself. The Vaccine Injury Compensation Program exists for a reason. The CDC itself discusses the potential for seizures following vaccination. Pulling up some random PubMed article proves nothing to anyone. The fact is that vaccines can and do cause serious, potentially life threatening complications. For everyone's information, no where in recorded history does the slightest inclination toward seizures exist on either side of Marissa's family.<br /><br />Obviously not every child reacts to the vaccines as my daughter did. So there is some predisposition there. But it was not known until she received the shots. There is no way of knowing what will happen to an individual child until then. In my family, we have decided that our children stand a better chance against any one of the vaccine preventable diseases than the vaccines. I am not willing to chance this happening to another one of my children. How dare anyone intimate that my daughter was an acceptable loss. She was not. I'm fairly certain no one who loves their children would hold them up for sacrifice for some perceived betterment of society. <br /><br />Marissa's neurologist is considered one of the top pediatric neuros in the world. He is also a very understanding and compassionate human being. His mind has opened a bit after so many years of dealing with worst-case senerios. He never found a diagnosis for Marissa in the year and years spent looking. He has stated that vaccines can and do cause reactions such as we saw in Marissa. Of course, he believes in the vaccines despite this, because he is still a doctor after all.<br /><br />Every person MUST educate themselves in all areas affecting their health and their child's health. No, doctors don't like it when you walk into their office with the attitude that you might actually know something about your own health, your own body, your own child. So what? Your doctor does not have to live with the results of what happens in his or her office. So they bad mouth you to friends and colleagues~ oh well! We need to all get over that, and fast. These are serious decisions with serious consequences~ from whether you need heart medication to whether or not you decide to vaccinate your children. We forget time and again that our money is paying their salary. We are their employers. Ignore the doctors with the god-complexes. Refuse to pay their salaries. Use that money toward a decent doctor or other health care provider.<br /><br />I may come back later and post some relevant links. Right now I must go so I can take my children to a friend's birthday party. Hey~ look at that~ I guess my children aren't alone and isolated despite my crazy homeschooling ways.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-71306449933746529422006-12-09T08:12:00.000-05:002006-12-10T00:42:22.253-05:00The downside to bloggingWhen I decided I would do this, one of my concerns was that certain people would leave comments like this:<br /><br /><<<br />Non crazy Mother has left a new comment on your post "What happened to My Marissa": <br /><br />You are very misguided. I think you are abusing your children by not taking care of them. And if you think that vaccines made your daughter sick then you must be very sick yourself. It sounds like she had a brain tumor and you were too stupid to go to the doctor and see if you could help her. Shame on you for hurting your child. You are to blame. Shame, shame, shame. I suppose you breastfed all your kids until they were 5 years old. Freak! >><br /><br /><br />Fortunately, it's the only one I've gotten so far. I chose not to publish it in comments since it's not really a "comment" persey, it's really just a very very sad person. Or maybe it's a 13 year old with nothing to do. That's what happens on the internet. It's like writing a book. Except when you write a book people take it into their homes and they talk about it and maybe discuss it with their friends. Here, we get to read the reviews instantly, and people can say whatever they want because we will never know for certain who they are.<br /><br />Another hazard would be someone getting a hold of your blog and holding it up for ridicule and misrepresentation. That happened to me yesterday. drfleablog.blogspot.com/ <br /> (my mac doesn't seem to respond to the ctl cues given by blogger, if anyone knows how to make those work, please let me know!) <br /><br />On the upside, I am reminded of why I avoid doctors once again. If you will notice, he did not even read Marissa's story correctly. He had a preconceived idea of what happened and then just skimmed the story. He claims that Marissa had febrile seizures and that is why her initial postical phase was so mild. Marissa never had febrile seizures, and no where in her story does it say that. He also claims she died during status epilepticus. Although she suffered through that time and again throughout her life, she in fact was not seizing when she died. So I am reminded that when I am speaking to a doctor, in most every case, THEY DO NOT EVEN HEAR ME. Even when I corrected the information in his comments, he ignored me. This is all aside from the fact that he put a bottle of some sort of cleaner at the top to represent the name of my blog~ Lavender Essence, which was chosen because when Marissa died, her dress was lavender, as was the beautiful sunset. <br /><br />Good doctors are few and far between. I know a few myself, but we had to search long and hard to find them. My sister is one. Marissa's neurologist is another. <br /><br />Would you want this guy to care for your children? I would have to wonder if my child was getting the appropriate treatment based on the fact that he could not even correctly read my blog. Maybe he's just trying to get me to shut up? Who knows. <Rant over now><br /><br />Oh, and "non crazy mother", please refer back to my post in order to see the involvement of the medical profession. Also, no, I do not nurse my children until they are 5, only until they are 3 or 4;o)barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-25814968546387512862006-12-07T12:09:00.000-05:002006-12-07T12:12:12.843-05:00What happened to My MarissaThis is what happened, for those who are wondering. It is posted at MDC. Some people have asked to spread it around the internet, which is a very good thing, so I thought it should be on my blog as well.<br /><br />Marissa's story<br />Marissa was my first baby. She was the only one of my six who was born in the hospital. At the time, I was a very mainstream person who was just starting to realize that there were other options out there. Unfortunately, I didn't figure it out fast enough.<br /><br />She was perfectly healthy despite the eye ointment which I was told I could not refuse and the Hep B shot, which they had just started giving babies at birth. I questioned a nurse about the shot. She was flabbergasted that I would even think to question it. I can't remember what she said, but I immediately shut up and signed the paperwork.<br /><br />We took Marissa home and for 3 1/2 months she was perfectly, wonderfully normal. The pediatrician proclaimed her to be very healthy. She slept well at night, nursed well, interacted, babbled, etc. Normal baby. At 3 1/2 months she got her first DTP. That night she got a fever, for which I called the doctor and was told that I should give her alternating doses of Tylenol and Motrin every two hours to keep the fever down. I do not remember how high it was off the top of my head. The fever was gone by the next night and I remember thinking she seemed a little different, a little off. The day after that I was lying next to her in bed and trying to fall asleep when she had a seizure. I had never seen a seizure before and was very confused. I picked up the phone and dialed 911, but as soon as the operator answered, Marissa smiled and cooed at me, so I said never mind and called the ped instead. I brought her in right away and was told she did not have a seizure because she would not have recovered like that. So I took her home where she had another seizure. Then several more as the days went on. We finally got an EEG after several visits to the hospital. It was completely normal. Lots of bloodwork was done~ all normal. Every single test was normal. A CT scan was normal; however, this test was done a month after her initial injury; I think it may have shown the injury had it been done right away. <br /><br />I asked the doctors if there was any way the shots were causing my daughter's seizures and I was told (quote) "No. That NEVER happens." So like a complete idiot, I continued to follow the recommended vax schedule, with my daughter on Phenobarbital to control the seizures. Her development slowed slightly. I believe this was due to the medicine. She was still within the range of normal. The doctors gave her DTaP to finish up that particular vax series. Obviously they must not have been quite so sure there was no problem with the vaccines, or we would have stayed with the DTP. But that is in hindsight. I had nothing but a feeling of foreboding at the time with absolutely no information to back it up.<br /><br />At almost 13 months old, Marissa had some words. She said daddy, mama, ba-ba-ba (wanting to nurse), fishy, I hot, among others things. She stood while hanging on to the couch and was starting to cruise along it. She got the MMR at this time. 13 days later she was in my arms seizing uncontrollably. She was taken by ambulance to the ER many times in the next couple weeks. All they would do was up her meds and observe her overnight. At this point she was no longer able to say her words or even sit up, but this was blamed on the medication being pushed higher and higher. We lived in a small town at the time and no one was willing to refer her anywhere else until on our last trip to the ER at that hospital, with my daughter in status (seizures that won't stop) once again, I told the doctor I refused to leave until they sent us somewhere where they knew what they were doing. He refused so I called my father, who drove an hour and a half to explain in his very persuasive manner why they were in fact going to send us somewhere else. We were sent to DeVos Children's, where they immediately admitted her. <br /><br />Marissa then fell into a pattern of status seizures every fourth day. She had an MRI, artery pokes, more EEGs, etc. Everything said normal. Eventually they gave up and sent us to Detroit Children's. The neuro we found there said to me, when I questioned him about the vaccines, that it was certainly possible. Of course, that was followed by "But vaccines are important". More tests in Detroit. A PET scan that showed she was in fact suffering from subclinical seizures ALL the time. More blood work, a spinal tap; nothing showed anything at all. Except for the film of the MRI we brought with us from Grand Rapids, which our neuro looked at and thought he saw a possible area of injury, but he wasn't sure.<br /><br />This time was pure hell for my baby. She was a "hard poke" and I was a young mom who didn't know any better. There were several times she was stuck with needles repeatedly for HOURS because they said they simply had to get a line. She screamed and cried for me and all I could do was hold her hand. I started to find my voice in Detroit, though, and before long doctors and nurses were actually listening to me, or pretending to really well. <br /><br />We finally left with Marissa on three different meds and still having seizures. The rest of her life was spent living with them. I hate them. HATE them. It was like some unseen force grabbed her and contorted her face and body. Just awful. And there were the garden variety partials, too, along with myoclonic seizures added in the mix. She had good periods and bad ones. I had good luck with the ketogenic diet for a while, but then it stopped working. We took her off all meds when her liver started shutting down and the docs were all freaking out (they opposed me stopping the meds, but it worked). At 3 years old she refused to take water orally, so we ended up putting in a g-tube. A year later she refused all oral food. For the previous years, I fed her pureed food by the spoonful, after the g-tube I just pureed it finer and pushed it through her tube.<br /><br />I had the most success with homeopathy. She had many months without seizures because of it. She would make developmental strides during these periods and then lose them again when the seizures started. They would normally last 1 to 4 months. Every day, all day, and all night much of the time~ not starting out that bad, but working up to that eventually. <br /><br />Marissa threw up a lot. That was something else that started after the first DPT. It was always cyclical. I never worried about it except when she became dehydrated, at which point we would head to the hospital to get rehydrated. She also had very low iron, but it didn't show up on regular hemoglobin tests, only on a full panel. My belief is that the aluminum in the shots was causing chronic anemia that was extremely difficult to treat. She needed a blood transfusion the year before due to this and I wanted to avoid that. So for those two reasons we were in the hospital when she died. We had no clue it was going to happen. She had been having seizures and throwing up, but she was no where near as sick as she had been many times before. I left at 3am because I was very pregnant and had my 17 month old with me. My dh stayed. He called me at 10am, just as his mother was arriving to watch the kids so I could be with Marissa in the hospital and told me she coded and get there quickly.<br /><br />I won't belabor that day, because it's not really relevant here. Basically, her brain stem swelled. It happened in her sleep. I missed it. She was dead when I arrived, although her body was being kept alive, which I am grateful for because I got to hold her and love her and say goodbye.<br /><br />So that's what happened to my Marissa. I MISS her so much. I believe if I would have stopped the shots after those first seizures, or even before getting the MMR she would be here and she would be basically healthy and happy. Instead she had a life full of struggle and heartache and she died at 8 1/2 years old. That should never, never happen. I hope her story can help someone who needs to hear it.<br /><br />Thanks for reading.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-29323935688908218172006-12-05T19:42:00.000-05:002006-12-05T20:01:49.731-05:00Grief counselingI went to a counseling appointment today. It was interesting. I chose this particular counselor because I have different beliefs than most people. I'm not Christian, I'm not Pagan, I'm not even Buddhist (although I would align myself most closely with this particular tradition). I sort of have my own thing going on. It's just me believing what I know to be true. I no longer label myself anything and in a sense, that is freeing. In another sense it is confining, because it confuses people and they don't know what box to put me in.<br /><br />So because of these different beliefs, I'm very wary of discussing my grief with anyone calling themselves a professional. I have visions of me baring my soul while the counselor quietly dials the nearest mental hospital so they can come and lock me up. This woman was highly recommended by a friend who claims that she has beliefs similar to mine.<br /><br />I went to see her today. She's definitely a counselor. She says what she's supposed to say and "hmmms" and "uh-huhs" in all the right places. She felt pretty phony. She felt just like the counselors I saw a decade or so ago. After those experiences, I had decided that counseling was garbage. I feel the need to be way too guarded~ not only with my spiritual beliefs, but with my mothering decisions. How would she feel about co-sleeping? How would she feel if she knew I have unassisted births? The way I am feeling now, after seeing her, she will not get to know these things, and that can only be detrimental. How can she help me heal if I can't speak the truth?<br /><br />I commited to bringing my 3 year old next week to do some play therapy. She struggles more than the other kids, at least outwardly. She hides and cries and has stopped speaking to a large extent. She misses her sister and it breaks my heart. Perhaps this counselor can help her and then it will be worthwhile. I plan on being in the room the whole time. I can't see any reason for my extremely shy and traumatized 3 year old to be without me with someone she doesn't know and who I am not sure I trust.<br /><br />I feel pretty screwed. It absolutely sucks to feel as if there is no safe place to turn.<br /><br />I have a few very good friends and I thank the Universe for them every day. They help me trudge forward.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-77468948109643167662006-12-04T16:06:00.000-05:002006-12-04T17:39:14.450-05:00The Christmas FamilyLast summer, on our way back from the park, where we had just honored our oldest dd's birthday, we were thinking of ways to honor her memory in other ways. My brilliant idea was to adopt a family for Christmas. It needed to be a family with a special needs child, I thought, so we could truly make a difference in a way that would be meaningful for us and for them.<br /><br />Last October I contacted a local public school with the idea that they would help us find an appropriate family. I am obviously not familiar with the beaurocracy of the public schools. My phone calls were repeatedly not returned, even though when I did happen to catch someone I was assured that the "wheels are in motion". On the day I was actually planning on giving up and making some last-ditch effort to find another family through someone's church or something, I got the phone call from the social worker saying that she had found a family. She had obtained a list of the family's needs and was ready to give it to me. I was a bit annoyed only because of the length of time it took to get to this point. The SW told me that this family was very excited and grateful to be on the receiving end of our project. I was very happy to hear this. I really wanted to take the burden of providing Christmas when the financial resources are not there to be lifted.<br /><br />In order to initiate this project, I solicited money from friends and family. Many people generously agreed to donate. We ended up with about $450. I think that is wonderful and more than enough to have a very merry Christmas. Well, I got the list in the mail and there were many things on it that I would love to get for them, and in fact have already purchased for them. There were also many things that made me scratch my head in confusion and a bit of disbelief. Apparently this family has called the SW a few times to add to the list. The things that are added are not cheap. Many of these things we do not own ourselves. This is resulting in a bit of an emotional struggle for me.<br /><br />We do not have money ourselves. The only reason we are able to do this is because of the help of our family and friends. My own children are not receiving gifts such as what the family is asking for. When my dd died, we instantly lost her disability payments, which has resulted in difficulty buying even the most basic things, such as food. We are being helped ourselves this year, through an online community and the wonderful mamas there. We are so very grateful for that. I do not feel like this family is grateful. We have had only one direct experience with them and it was not positive. <br /><br />So I need to get this figured out soon. I certainly don't want to present them with gifts with my current attitude. I want so badly to give to them out of love and good will. I think perhaps it was just too soon for a project this big. My dd has only been gone 5 1/2 months. My family is not doing Christmas with anyone else but ourselves because it is simply too painful.<br /><br />There is quite obviously something important for me to learn here. Wish me luck in figuring it out.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-43922909158006315372006-11-29T21:02:00.000-05:002006-11-29T21:16:05.905-05:00My 24 hour coldI am consistently astonished and amazed by homeopathy. <br /><br />Last night I had a sore throat in the evening. By bedtime (1am) it was extremely sore and I was achey and stuffy~ full blown sick. I took my remedy~ Aurum Arsenicum~ in a 12c a grand total of 3 times in 24 hours and as of now I have only residual stuffiness, no achiness, not a trace of a sore throat. This is in sharp contrast to my mother, who left work early because she felt so sick, and my youngest sister, who has now missed 2 days of work both due to the same illness I had. Did I mention I love homeopathy?<br /><br />Soon I expect to have my annual conversation with my mother. It will go something like this:<br />ME: Mom, are you feeling OK? You sound like you might be sick<br />MOM: I hab a bad colb. I hab a feber of 103* and I am bery hot and then bery colb<br />ME: Sounds like it might be the flu. <br />MOM: It is not the flu. I got by shot.<br />ME: Are you sure?<br />MOM: Yes. I bight have to go to the doctor because I feel like I bight die. Thank goodness I got the shot. Just ibagine how BAD it would be ib I didn't!!<br /><br />My poor mother. She really does try (sometimes). It's far to easy to be brainwashed by the masses.<br /><br />On the subject of the flu shot, it's gotten so that I am afraid to go in public lest someone attacks me while weilding a flu vaccine. Geesh! I can't go anywhere, look, or listen to anything without being told about how I must get the flu shot. I am at least thankful that they are kind enough to let me know when and where they are giving Flu Mist, so I can avoid that place and time at all costs. You do all know that the mist is a live vaccine and therefore is easily transmitted to others, right?<br /><br />Stock up on the Oscillo!barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-74928238257285623652006-11-28T20:39:00.000-05:002006-11-28T20:48:37.776-05:00Sick kiddosI hate it when my kids are sick. I don't know if it's better for them to all get sick at once, or for it to hit them one at a time. The former can be hard to handle, and the latter just takes so long to get through.<br /><br />I have declared the baby to have croup, which he must be almost over. His breathing was quite raspy 3 days ago, but Antimonium Tart 30 in water helped significantly. My sister (who is my doctor), offered a nebuelizer (sp?) to which I asked, sounding befuddled, I'm sure, "Why?". I know to her it's no big deal. To me it's a huge deal. One of the lessons my daughter taught me in her short life is that western medicine has it wrong. And not only do they have it wrong, but it is impossible for most people living in America to comprehend that fact. It's like questioning someone's very strongly held religious beliefs. Question medicine and you may be attacked.<br /><br />The other kids have coughs, too. Two of them had high fevers followed by repiratory stuff, which we will call the flu. The others developed only a cough over a week later, so we will call that croup. I am noticing as I write this that my throat is sore and I am not liking that at all. I suffered through mastitis quite recently and I think that should exempt me from any further illness at this time. We shall see what tomorrow brings.<br /><br />Friday is supposed to be my day to go out and get stuff done. I'd like to be able to do it while healthy.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-9089935127818287872006-11-27T20:05:00.000-05:002006-11-27T20:11:35.742-05:00Anyone out there?I'm not doing this for anyone but myself:P I suppose when I want people to read it I'll actually tell them I'm blogging! As of now, not even dh knows. I have stated before that I do not like blogs. That must have been like my blanket statement "I will not live on the SE side of the city"~ which is exactly where I live now, and in a very nice little neighborhood, I might add.<br /><br />So I'm thinking that not a soul is reading this, which today is just fine. I had a diary when I was young that had a lock on it and a teeny tiny key. I never knew what to write in there. I didn't really understand the value of writing things down. I'm hoping this turns out to be theraputic. It feels like when I force myself to call my friends when I would rather curl up and cease to exist for a while. Reaching out~ to who? Myself, I guess. Sorting out my thoughts, with nothing too weird or crazy, on the off chance that someone actually reads this!barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7027978464906603468.post-68585964377395490812006-11-27T19:56:00.000-05:002006-11-27T20:04:20.345-05:00ThanksgivingWell, what can I say? It sucked. It was horrible. <br /><br />It's not anything that anyone did or didn't do. It's just that my daughter, she's dead. <br /><br />I was told that the holidays would be hard, but I honestly thought they would be easier than this. I wanted to hide all day, but I can't do that because the depression I fall into when I do that is completely unmanagable. At this moment there is nothing that could possibly make me feel better. I am on the edge of a panic attack all the time. Talk about exhausting. <br /><br />Yesterday I managed to get out of the house with only the baby in order to run errands. Funny that I view that type of thing as a "break" now. I really need some time alone with my daughter. I want to talk to her, feel her spirit with me and remember her, but not in this obsessive way that I do it now. I obsess because with all that is demanded of me 24 hours a day, I am afraid I will forget something about her, and I want to remember absolutely everything. The way her hair felt and looked~ all those light brown highlights, up in a ponytail. The way she smelled~ like lavender, everything was like lavender, I'll tell that story someday here. Those silly raspberries she blew all the time and the wonderful giggle she had.<br /><br />I feel like I have negative stuff just building and building and there is no outlet.<br /><br />Dh was supposed to talk to a vaccine injury lawyer today. I was going to ask when he called to check on me, but he never did.barefoot mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13768094185429765270noreply@blogger.com0