My Story (part 1)

My Story

It’s been such a long journey-and it’s still ongoing!-that I hardly know where to begin.  I suppose it would be a good idea to give some of my childhood background. 

I was born on May 1, 1983 and weighed in at 6lbs 7oz and short. 

I was a pretty good kid, I think. I liked to be in charge. I was probably a pain in the neck, but I could get anything done if I set my mind to it.

At the age of eight I would go to early morning Mass on Monday mornings. My grandparents would pick me up at 6:30am and we’d head off for Mass at 7am. That’s probably the first time I noticed I wasn’t quite right. I would wake up about 6:20 and feel so sick and nauseated. I would complain to my grandparents or to my mother, but I didn’t get much sympathy. I think they thought I was just looking for attention . . . which was annoying because I rarely complain/ed about anything unless it was really an issue. Anyway, this sick feeling would last for hours. Sometimes I could eat and make it go away, and other times I couldn’t eat at all.  One day I actually vomited in my grandmother’s car, to which she said “Well, good heavens, you really *are* sick!”  Even though I felt rotten, I was quietly happy that she know knew I was really not well.

I always wondered why I felt so icky in the mornings. Blood sugar? Maybe, but then why wouldn’t I feel better when eating?  About this time I also began noticing that I was constantly hot. And I mean constantly… it never went away. During the winter in the 30 degree weather I would feel as if I were suffocating, and then have panic attacks, if I were forced to wear a coat. There were so many times I would be in arguments with my grandmother (aka: Mana) and my mom about me wearing a coat. Or they wanted to know why I was wearing sandals when there was snow on the ground. “Because my feet are hot and I can’t stand to be hot!” is what I would say. I typically won the arguments. I’m not sure if that’s because they were nice and knew I was telling the truth, or if I was really just that much of a brat.

Around age 8 or 9 I was sick, so my mom took my temp…. only it was with those old glasses thermometers with the mercury inside. I somehow bit the thermometer and the mercury ended up in my mouth. My mother called poison control, and they said “no big deal.”  

What the heck? It’s no big deal to swallow pure mercury?!

I think about the age of ten I began to notice I was constantly constipated. I was always thirsty. I couldn’t sleep well. And I would have headaches often. My memory began to get fuzzy. And I was quick to anger.  The anger could have been just a character flaw for all I know, but it seemed to have cycles of being better and worse.

I needed glasses around this time. With glasses my left eye was 20/60 and the right was 20/40.  However, I could see no difference when wearing glasses and when I didn’t wear glasses.

A few months after my 11^th birthday I “became a woman”… I was so annoyed by this, I was still a kid after all! It seemed strange to me that I would be so young and have this happen. (Here’s hoping it means an early menopause!)

Soon after this time I began to experience these weird pains that would leave me feeling tired, angry, and bloated. I was told it was par for the course. Okay, fine, so I dealt with it. A month after I turned 12 my parents took us kids on a camping trip. The last day of the trip I remember lying down on a concrete bench and feeling like I might explode. My mom thought I was being overly-dramatic, gave me some Advil, and took me home. I kept complaining and was told to rest in bed and use a heating pad. So I did. Two days later my cousin asked if I would spend the night. My mom said if I hurt that much then I shouldn’t go. Me being my stubborn self said I would be fine and went to hang out with Jessica.  By a few hours later I couldn’t sit up straight. I couldn’t walk upright. And I couldn’t’ really eat much.  I tried laying flat on my stomach, but it made it worse. So I called my mom around 11pm and crying said “please take me to the emergency room!” 

I ended up at the ER a little after midnight. The doctors embarrassed me to death by asking how many sexual partners I had had, could I be pregnant, did I know what normal menstrual pain was like…?  I about died.  They finally brought in an ultrasound machine, put it on my abdomen, and there they discovered an ovarian cyst the size of a grapefruit.

A grapefruit?!  

The doctors recommended emergency surgery given that it was growing rapidly. They talked about taking out the whole ovary… I don’t remember why. I do remember being hysterical that I was losing a body part, I was going to be sliced open, and I really didn’t even understand what a cyst was. The surgery was schedule for 8am, but for some reason, they decided I needed to go in sooner.

Turns out they left the ovary in place, because they were able to drain the cyst. Recovery was not fun. Turns out your body does not like to cut open, and it really dislikes being cut open without having adequate time to process the information.

It was after the surgery that I found my body was now a complete stranger. I have yet to find my old self. I began to gain weight. I was sad and depressed. I completely stopped growing… which is not cool considering I only made it to 5ft 1in. And in addition, the cysts kept forming. I can’t tell you how many ultrasounds/sonograms I’ve had. We had to keep a close eye on them. If another cyst grew to a large size and the burst, it could result in hemorrhages and other bad stuff. Not to mention the pain. The pain was horrible. My doctor prescribed oxycotin for the pain. It didn’t even touch it. They tried a few other meds, but nothing helped. It was torture.

Finally my mother took me to another doctor who tried to talk me into taking Birth Control Pills. Uhhhh… no, thanks. He said I really should take them since it would regulate my hormones, get rid of my pain, and “you could go have fun with the boys!”  Real funny. I really didn’t want to take the pills, mostly because I was a good Catholic girl and birth control is strictly forbidden. Once I spoke to my priest, who said it was fine to take for medical issues, unless I were married, but I wasn’t so I could take it with a clear conscience. I was still uneasy. I just felt like it was a bad idea. My mom was sympathetic, but said “we can’t afford more surgeries, and you don’t want to go through that again anyway.”  Well, that was true, so… I took the pills.

Worst. Mistake. Ever.

 For three months I gained weight like crazy, which was odd given that I spent my days with my head in the toilet. I was very depressed. I couldn’t focus. And I am fairly certain I was one big ball of emotions. I hated it. The doctor said my body would take three months to get used to the pills, and to keep at it. Once I hit the three month mark and saw no improvement, I announced very matter-of-factly to my mother that I would no longer be taking the pills. She didn’t contest it. She did take me back to the doctor though.

He agreed that the pills weren’t working, but that I did need to be on something. He really tried hard to get me to take a shot: Depo-vera. He explained that I would just come in a few times a year and get a shot. The shot would harden the uterine lining and would prevent estrogen from function correctly so that I could not longer ovulate. I said that didn’t sound like a good idea. He laughed, and said “maybe not, but it will work.”  I don’t remember what my mom thought about that idea, but I was almost 13 and had the attitude to go with it. I absolutely refused to take this shot. . . or any other form of “birth control”. I remember looking up depo-vera and reading the risks and thinking “I absolutely hate this doctor. He could have made me sterile!”  It’s awful, vile stuff.

I am certain that being on The Pill at that young of an age was the first step in ruining my metabolism. I don’t have any hard facts on this. Call it a gut-feeling.

At the age of 14 I decided I was tired of being fat, so I ate very little, often went to bed hungry, and walked a lot. Within six weeks I lost 40 lbs. I got down to 105 and would have kept falling—which was scary—but I then added some extra calories and seemed to stabilize at 120.  

By the age of 16 I was constantly tired, as in “I have to pray to get through this day” kind of tired. I couldn’t remember a thing. I could hold a phone in one hand, a paper with a number in the other hand, and still I couldn’t remember the number long enough to punch it in. I’d have to look at the paper the entire time. I had a difficult time reading because words would just melt into each other. I would re-read the passage knowing that I misread it, and I still couldn’t read it correctly. It was as if my brain just couldn’t comprehend it, which was weird since I had/have always been a great reader.

I couldn’t sleep at night either. I’d lie awake for hours. I had constant headaches. I had bouts of inexplicable anger. I mean, I did have some rough stuff happen as a kid/teen, so that may have been half the explanation, but sometimes it was just like I couldn’t control it. I never did anything other than yell, but being the eldest daughter, you can’t really do that when you are in charge of setting good examples.

Ages 17-18-19 I worked 50-60 hour weeks being the most awesome hostess ever. I remember standing at the door, waiting on customers, and wanting to cry because I was so tired. And I was a teenager… how is that normal?!  I was never hungry, but constantly drank Coke. I gained 20 lbs but stayed there no matter what I ate or what I drank (primarily Coke and sometimes water). I was definitely addicted to sugar. (As a side note: this was not my parents’ fault. They rarely ever allowed us to have soda. I picked up that habit all on my own.)

Anyway, after a year (about 13 months) of odd symptoms, I finally found out that I what I had was a bad yeast infection. I am pretty sure that suffering through that for over a year should put me on the fast track for sainthood.  Of course it makes total sense I would have a yeast infection given that most  my diet consisted of sugar. I didn’t know anything about sugar and yeast and all that back then, unfortunately, so I just took meds.

I also suffered from bronchitis and terrible sinus infections nearly all the time. It seems like I would get bronchitis twice a year, and sinus infections 4 or 5 times a year. I wasn’t a big complainer so I typically just dealt with it. Most sinus infections took about six weeks to clear up… but then a month later, I’d have another one it seemed.

We didn’t ever really go to the doctor as children. We didn’t have the money for it. We basically went in if we had a serious infection or broken bones. My mom was an RN and could usually diagnose all the small stuff. She was also very hesitant about antibiotics and vaccines. We did have some vaccines, but not all.

My mom wasn’t into nutrition and clean foods and all that jazz, at least, not while I was growing up, but she was one of the reasons I learned to think for myself and not always believe what doctors tell me. Also, to say away from overuse of antibiotics and vaccines might do more harm than good at times would probably be a good idea as well.

                                                 (to be continued)

Little Old Lady Smackdown

My kids are taking swimming lessons at the YMCA this week, so I was sitting in the outside room watching them participate in their lessons. 


Behind me was a nurse who was giving free health screenings. From what I could tell, she was checking blood pressure, sugar levels, and a couple other things. I didn't pay much attention to her and went on to watch Veronica try and dive (which was quite comical--she would get into a beautiful diving pose, and then.. just plop into the water). 


About ten minutes later I hear an older lady, who had to be in her 60s, begin to scold the nurse (in her 40's) about mocking people who question doctors and live a more health-conscious lifestyle. I couldn't pick up the beginning of the conversation, but I knew the older lady was really upset. 


What I could pick up was something like "I am highly offended you would just brush off thoughts of alternative cures to ailments. You think we should just blindly lead the doctors and do everything they tell us to do. If you want to spew that stuff to people, fine, but don't say it around me! I have known people who have died from following doctors' orders, and that really upsets me!"  

The nurse kinda mumbles something a bit hostile, so the old lady is trying not to cry, and says: "You know, that's just wrong. Shelia is not crazy because she doesn't want chemo. Chemo kills people! If she wants to look into other treatment options, that's he right! She's not crazy at all. You would have all people believe that it's crazy to do anything other than blindly follow doctors and just swallow up any pill [the doctors] hand out. If you ask me, *that's* crazy!"


The nurse obviously had no idea what to say to this. Then she said "well, at the very least, Sheila could be considered eccentric." The old lady says "yes, perhaps, she is, but that's her right! I am just so angry you would tell people not to get themselves better, but to just go do what his doctor says to do. Where's the sense in that?  People can eat better. People can walk. People can do a lot of things that are not crazy and still do better than pills!"


The nurse mumbled something of a half-hearted apology.  And with that, the old woman left. 


It seems to me that more and more of society is waking up to the fact that pushing pills and just hunkering down on the couch is really not the way to go. And they are also taking a more serious interest in their food and their way of life. I really was happy to hear the exchange. 


A few minutes later the kids had finished up, so we were headed out of the door... I looked over to the nurse, and there she sat happily munching on vending machine "food" and a Diet Pepsi. But don't worry, she works for a doctor... there's a pill for that.

Elizabeth's Story (so far)

Elizabeth Kathryn was born two weeks early on January 25, 2010.

My pregnancy with Elizabeth was somewhat better, but towards the end my blood pressure skyrocketed, I was having headaches, and just not feeling great. I had a great doctor who actually listened to me and trusted me when I said things weren't right. So when I woke up one morning and just felt off, I just walked right into his office without even calling for an appointment. My blood pressure was "wow, kinda high" they said, and said I had other signs of preeclampsia. He said he knew something wasn't right because I told him it was time for this to be over and crying. I never cry.  He said okay and sent me to the hospital. 

I went in to the hospital and it turns out my blood pressure was 200/116 (way too high). So, yet again, I was induced. I was really hoping to finally have one labor start naturally, but I guess it wasn't to be. Tom arrived at the hospital and the doctor gave me an epidural. I didn't really want one, but because of my BP they thought it would be best to have as little pain as possible. I felt pretty good, and then...

I crashed. 

I remember waking up in a fog and hearing "okay, we might be out of the Woods!"  I wondered why they were talking about getting out of me....  They thought the epidural had lowered my blood pressure too much, and they had trouble getting it back up. Ironic. 

A little while later nurses and doctors were in my room having me flip, turn, and all sorts of tricks. I just did it... had no idea why. About five minutes later I hear "call it, we gotta go now! ... but all O.R.s are full!...get the one downstairs prepped!" 

Finally my OB says "her heart rate is not coming up, it's getting lower and I've tried every trick. Don't try to figure it out, we don't have time." 

When I crashed it wasn't because of the epidural, it was because I was beginning to hemorrhage, and now the placenta was abrupting (separating from the uterine wall) which leads to death for the baby, and can also be deadly for the mother.


I had to tell Tom to call my mom and his mother... "what do I tell them?" he asked.  I didn't have the courage to say "tell them one of us is dying,"  At this point it wasn't clear how much danger I was in myself.  


As they are pushing me down the hall to the operating room (which, I have to tell you, was the longest, most heart-stopping moment I've ever had) the OBs and the Anesthesiologist were arguing over whether or not I could stay awake. The OB was saying there wasn't time, I had to be put out. The Anesthesiologist said I could just have hyper-doses of epidural drugs since I already had one in. I really believe it was God's intervention that I was semi-forced to have an epidrual at the beginning...


They let me stay awake (although, I really didn't like the idea) but Tom could not be present. I don't know how much time elapsed from the call until she was born, but it was crazy fast. She came out screaming and fighting.  And then they took her away. 


She was 5lbs 8oz and 18" long. They said she had stopped growing about three weeks prior. The placenta was too small and had really stopped function well. And if I hadn't come in to the doctor that day, she definitely would have died, and there was a high probability I wouldn't have made it either. 


That still gives me chills. 


It was four or five hours before I could hold her. I was so sick from all the drugs and trauma that I couldn't do anything but lay flat. And vomit. Continuously. 


I finally was able to get Elizabeth into my room. She did not look happy. I was sure she was just as traumatized as I was. She wouldn't eat at all, really. She was losing weight fast. After three days, the doctor said I should go home (even though my pain was running rampant) because babies tend to perk up when mom's are home and more comfortable. 


We went home and I literally did nothing but hold her and try to feed her. By the time we went in for her check up three days later, she was down to 4lbs 8oz and had jaundice. I was desperate to make breastfeeding work... especially since I was unable to nurse Amy as a baby... so I tried everything. About day five she did finally start eating, and eating well... however, she was still losing weight. By her two week check up, she hadn't even broken 5 pounds. 


I had to borrow a baby scale and weigh her daily. We thought maybe she was too little to eat effectively, so I was also pumping and feeding her from a "closet to the breast" type of bottle. She still lost weight. I tried the tube trick. I tried dripping milk in her mouth. I tried force-feeding her. I tried the syringe... and anything else I could think of. She either lost weight or maintained, but never gained.


During this time, Tom and I were in and out of the pediatrician's office every other day. He was concerned and asked about giving Elizabeth formula. I said I really didn't want to, but maybe I could mix a bottle with half formula and half breast milk. He was okay with that. I have to say he was much less pushy than I expected him to be. He clearly wanted me to do formula, but was very respectful when I said I wanted to try other things.


At a few check-ups I told the doctor that she was very lazy when eating. She was constipated. She was irritable. I don't remember him offering much advice. Just that all of that is common in babies who aren't gaining weight. 


At her six week check up she was just a little over 5lbs, but still didn't seem right. She was still too lazy, she didn't want to eat, but cried a lot, and her stools didn't make sense to me. I said "well, I give up, I guess we'll just go ahead and switch to formula."  He thought that was great. And then he asked "when do you want to do vaccines?"


Are you kidding me?  This baby was born too early, into a very traumatic situation, hasn't been growing and is always irritable, and he wants to shoot her up with whoknowswhat?  Yeah, right. 


I sleep deprived. I was an emotional wreck. . . I mean, my baby wouldn't grow, I had a horrid c-section, I couldn't even walk on my own, and now I have to fight him on vaccines? I feebly said "you know, I really would rather wait until she's older to deal with vaccines."  His demeanor immediately switched from "happy and helpful" to "on edge and condescending".  "What are you thinking you're going to do about this then?"  I said I wanted to wait and there's no rush for it now. 
He said, yes, babies need to be protected and if she caught whooping cough in her fragile state, well, it might not end well.  I said I was sure she'd be fine for the next few months. He said "are you sure?"  I asked him about rates of measals and mumps, and haven't those rates dropped drastically over the last few decades, and didn't clean water and better living conditions contribute to this, more-so than the vaccines? He said "well.... yes... but measels are on the rise again!"  I asked "Oh, wow. So how many children have you seen in the last five years with measels?"  His answer? "Two."

So I have to vaccinate my tiny baby against something that basically doesn't exist, and it would really be an issue to wait a year or two?  He said it would be an issue, and we really shouldn't delay. I asked why, and he said--I kid you not!--"well, if she gets a fever or has an issue in the meantime, I'd have to admit her to the hospital right away... and... I'd have to test her... for several things...all at once!" 
 I said "so I should vaccinate her because you might have to run extra tests if she gets ill?"  I don't think he said much to that. 

I don't remember what we ended up doing with her. I think we did two vaccines when she was a couple of months old.  I feel like he knew I was not in a position to make a rational decision given that I was still on pain meds, had no sleep, and was really focused on Elizabeth growing. I think it was bullying. Why not say "as a doctor I disagree with you, but here's some info to think about, and we'll talk about it next time you come in." ?  


Anyway... after Elizabeth's six week check up, literally a day later, I noticed a white splotch in her mouth. What a minute... I saw that splotch when she was two weeks old, now that I think about it.   It suddenly dawned on me: she has thrush! And she had probably had it since she was a few days old. Thrush in newborns leads them to not eat well because their mouths hurt. They're gut is all of track, so their stools are funky. They don't gain weight well. And they are very irritable. How, how, how did the doctor miss this? This is a routine problem with newborns and doctors are supposed to check for this at every check up. How could he not have put all this together?  


I looked more closely at her mouth and saw that it was c.o.v.e.r.e.d. in white stuff.  Should I have spotted this earlier?  Yes, probably. My job as a mother is to nurture and feed and take care of the baby. His job as a doctor is to look for health problems and make sure babies are doing well. This was inexcusable. I was also miffed that my OB hadn't told me they have me antibiotics after my surgery, which would be a cause of thrush for the baby. 


I took Elizabeth back into the doctor. I was a little miffed and said "She has thrush!" the doctor said "Oh, is that what it is? Here you go, give her nystatin."  I took it just so I could avoid an argument, but I had no intention of using it. Nystatin kills yeast, but it also kills other things in the process. On the label it says "can cause diarrhea; mouth irritation; nausea; upset stomach; vomiting"

Yup, if I had a baby who couldn't eat, wasn't gaining weight, and generally not doing well, that's exactly the drug I would have her take.   

I went to our local health food store and told the owner the issues, what the doctor gave me and she said "what? He want her to die?"  Of course I know he didn't want that, but it did make me chuckle. She helped me find a yogurt with live cultures. I had to take it home, and then strain the yogurt so that it would make a paste. Then I'd take the paste it spread it on the inside of Elizabeth's mouth. I did this twice a day for ten days, and the yeast problem went away completely. (Nystatin must be used a few times a day for two weeks.) 

By this point Elizabeth was used to bottles and would not go back to breast feeding. I was so upset, but I had to appreciate the fact that she made it through the rough pregnancy, through delivery, and was now gaining weight, and just be happy about it. Once we switched to formula she took off, she did really well.   


If this was the only problem I had with this particular doctor, I would have just let it slide... we all make mistakes... but this is the same doctor who had misdiagnosed all of my girls, and hadn't been too nice in the process. So, yeah, I pretty much did not like him anymore. At all. 


So we get everything squared away, Elizabeth starts growing, she stays on formula (mixed with breast milk for a few months) and I held her constantly for a year. She is still petite, but has hit all her milestones and is a really smart, stubborn kid. 


When Elizabeth was about seven months old we moved to Kansas. She was a little cranky, but I figured it was just the stress of the move and the disruption in her routine, so we waited for her to chill out. At about a year old she started crying all day. Every day. Non-stop. She was really high maintenance, nothing made her happy, really. It was really tough on the family, it is such a downer to have a baby/child constantly angry and crying, and knowing there is nothing you can do. I tried everything I knew how: schedules, no schedules, new foods, old foods, movies, reading, keeping her mind busy, doing more quiet time,traveling, staying home ... everything!  She did like to be outside, so we tried to do that a lot, but you can't live your whole life outside, even if you are Primal ;)

I kept telling Tom that she would grow out of it, that she's just high maintenance and needs a lot of attention. We waited for months for her to grow out of this phase. Once we settled into Kansas we had a friend who would come over to my house a few times a week and help watch Elizabeth (and Amy at the time) so I could go out and run errands. My friend told me that Elizabeth was always good for her and she didn't see any of the behavior that Tom and I would see all the time. That made things a little more complicated... it really made me wonder if I wasn't being a good enough mom, or if the stress of starting a new school (for the kids), moving into a huge house, and having the new experience of Tom working from home--which meant coordinating schedules most of the time--, not to mention cleaning the 5200 sqft house, had really just upset Elizabeth too much.  I had taken her into a new pediatrician here in Kansas for a check up, and as I feared, her growth chart line was falling, not rising.  Here we go again!

I really tried to tone things down and get Elizabeth relaxed, but it didn't seem to help much. I added in more high fat foods and tried to make sure she always had something to much on. I don't think it worked much. By this point she is two years old and her behavior is getting worse. She was constantly angry. I mean anything and everything set her off. 


If anybody looked at her the wrong way she would scream, throw toys, scratch (and draw blood), she would even rip out her hair... and all the while she'd look at you like a wild animal. It was really scary at times. I started wondering if she had some sort of mental issue. Or could she have some sort of sensory issues? All of this continued for months and months. The family was held hostage to her moods. We couldn't go out anywhere because there was 100% chance she'd be disruptive and cut our trip short. We even had to switch off going to Mass on Sundays. There was no way we could even step into a quiet church with her. Thankfully, Grandma would take her every other week so we could attend Mass as a family.

I think also about this time we discovered she had another yeast infection. So I did all the routine things: took her off sugar, added probiotics, and lots of water and rest. It helped her irritability somewhat, but not for long. 


I took her back to the pediatrician, desperate for ideas, but all I got was "feed her more food. And you might want to make an appointment with a nutritionist so you can learn about healthy foods."  That is a common theme with doctors and nurses, they look at me and decide that since I'm big, it must be that my kids subsist on french fries and fried chicken nuggets. It didn't how much I would talk about the kids eating fruits and vegetables, and meats, and whole grains... they never quiet believed it. Anyway, I never went it for a $50 class on how to feed your baby.


Still, her behavior continued and it was really wearing us down. I even thought about enrolling her in a preschool. My thought was that if she were nice enough for other people, maybe she'd be happier in a different enviroment. I was sad though, because I really didn't want to "send her away."


About this time I decided to write a post about Veronica's health issues, and while I was writing about it, I thought how similiar Veronica's behavior and that of Elizabeth's seemed to be. This made me wonder if, just by chance, Elizabeth's rage, and tiredness, and poor growth had more to do with dairy than it did with environment. So Tom and I decided to take her off dairy for two weeks just to see what happened. 


Within five days we could tell a major difference. We were cautiously optimistic since she had briefly gotten better after we went Primal, but then it came back. So after two weeks and she was still improving, we decided that it was indeed the dairy causing the problems. She can have yogurt and butter, but anything else seems to be a trigger for her.


She is now a completely different child. We attend Mass as a family. We are able to eat out at restaurants. I can even take her grocery shopping now. She refuses to sit in the cart, of course, but she'll walk happily along side of me.  She is still very stubborn, and she still has days where she wants what she wants and she'll let you know it, but at least you can redirect her attention and get her to be happy at some point.I no longer have to think about putting her in preschool either, and that is a big relief.


She is sleeping better as well, but the best part is that she has started growing again! She is putting on more weight and is getting a bit taller, thankfully. At 2.5 years old, she can still wear some clothes size 18 months, and some size 24 months, which I consider a success. Thankfully she seems to have no long term effects from the placental abruption, and we look forward to seeing what she accomplishes in life with her strong will and her "can do" attitude.  


We are very grateful that we decided to take the whole family primal. Who knows where we'd be mentally *and* physically if we had never taken the leap. So we are a real testament to the great effects of Going Primal. 


And hopefully the rest of Elizabeth's life will be very healthy and she won't need extra paragraphs added to her health story.

Quick and Easy Pizza "crust"

A reader (hi, Lisa!) sent this recipe for a quick, and easy primal-friendly pizza crust. 


I'll have to wait until Grandma has the kids--they are all off dairy-- before I can make myself. But do try it out and comment here so we can see what you think!

The Primal kids

 

Amy's Story

Amy Rose Woods, born on April 28th, 2006 --- five weeks early. 

Amy on her sixth birthday

My pregnancy with Amy was just like all the other ones... very difficult. This one was made worse by the fact that I now had two other babies to care for AND I was in my last semester of school--trying to earn my associates in Liberal Arts. I was rushing to finish this so I could have some type of degree should the police ever come after me for homeschooling my own kids...eventually. 


So I was in and out of the hospital many times, but I thought all was going well, until I went in--for the 30th time--to the hospital for fluids/check-up and I asked them for an ultrasound within a week or two. The doctor asked why and I said "she needs to be checked on."  He didn't seem convinced, but his nurse was really nice and said "Look, she's already had two, if she thinks there is a problem, we should look."  Thank God for that nurse, because she scheduled me for an ultrasound the next day. 


I went in for what I thought would be a routine U/S and instead it took well over an hour. I was alone since Tom was at home with Regina and Veronica (we really had no sitters in NY at this time)... anyway, I sensed something was off, but was too afraid to ask. I know now they did a stage 4 u/s, which means they were checking organ function, blood flow, and other signs of life/trouble. 


They told me to come in the very next day for an induction and that she would probably be fine. I asked why and the doctor said "Oh, you have no amniotic fluid. Best to just induce you right away."  I knew that wasn't all since I had the same issue with the first two pregnancies, and all they said was "drink water and bedrest".  But... whatever. I was tired of being sick, and sick of being pregnant, so whatever, let's have a baby! 


Amy was born the next day about six hours after labor begun. Turns out, she had a triple nuchal cord and the more she grew the more it was closing off her airway and blood flow. The doctor said it was so serious that if I had come in three days later, she would have been stillborn. . . that still gives me the chills.


She was in the NICU for five days due to breathing issues. I was told, after they released her, that I was very lucky she did so well.  Don't know what that means, but hey, I knew then that she was going to be my feisty-fighter kid. And she is! 


Amy weighed in at 5lbs 2oz and 18 inches long. She dropped to 4lbs 10oz in the hospital--not bad, really, but sounded so tiny!  She had developed a bad case of jaundice, but we fixed it eventually. Her mouth was so small she couldn't feed well, so we had to use tiny bottles. I was so sad that I couldn't get her to nurse. I tried everything I could, but gave up after three weeks when she wasn't gaining weight and her jaundice still lingered. She really was just too small and the energy it took to eat was too much for her.  I was really sad, but relieved that her angels had told me to get her out while we could--at least she was alive!


I finished finals while Amy was in the NICU. I still don't know how I did it. I graduated when she was three weeks old. And we moved from NY to AL when she was six weeks old, I think? So in all the hubbub we weren't forced by her doctor to give her all the vaccine shots. I did have her checked out in AL since I was still worried about her growth... I went into the doctor's office... they had me wait 2.5 hours!!...with all three girls (who at this point are just 3, 1.5, and newborn) and waited to see the doctor. To say I was tired in an understatement. I was almost catatonic. We finally walk into the exam room and the nurse comes in saying "she needs all the vaccines"  I was so frazzled at this point because Amy had been freaking out screaming for the last 20 minutes, and the other two were crying loudly for the last hour because it was way past lunch time.  I said "no, she was five weeks early, so really she's only about a week old, and I don't want her to have anything at this point."   The nurse didn't like that at all... so she talked to the doctor who also urged me to give Amy, a preemie, not one vaccine but SIX all at once.  I was so tired, and so frazzled, and so sad I just couldn't move, so all I could say was "No."  


They did it anyway. Yes, I asked them not to, twice, and they did it anyway... even the stupid one! I forget what it's called but I said "why does she need that" and they said "because she might get a cold and it would mean she needs to be hospitalized if she throws up or has diarrhea."  I said "I'll take my chances, she doesn't need it for a possible cold."  

They gave it to her anyway.


I felt so abused at this point:  Waiting in a waiting room for nearly three hours with three crying kids, all of us hungry, they made no attempt at an apology, and then I was bullied once I got back there. I am sure they sensed how rundown I was and knew I couldn't fight, so they just did what they wanted. It still makes me angry to even think about it. And it makes me sad, not only for Amy, but for me that I was that ill myself, and nobody--not even me--knew it. 


I forced myself to get the kids and get to the car. I cried the whole way home. I then decided I wouldn't ever go back to a doctor for routine care. There are definitely legitimate reasons to see a doctor, but being bullied isn't one of them. 


I tore up the appointment card and never went back.


Amy seemed to do well. She was on fully on formula at this point and seemed to thrive on it. I received a lot of wonderful comments about it... such as "you know she'll have weight problem when she's older...formula does that to them"  or "You know they use rat poison in that, right" or "her brain won't develop correctly if you don't breastfeed." and "she is always going to be sick, you shouldn't give that to her!"   All said by well-intentioned people, but all I knew is that I couldn't pump round the clock with two other kids running around and me being in a perpetual zombie-like state. 


Ironically, Amy has turned out to be my most thin, healthy, smart kids.... not that that's saying much for how sick the family is, but just goes to show that while breastfeeding is best, you will not ruin your baby if you have to go with formula.


About this time is when Veronica began to have all her issues, so I can't remember Amy having any real issues during this time.


Fast forward a few years... Amy was fully potty trained a few months after her 2nd birthday (if I remember correctly). She was trained for a good six, or more, months and all was well. Until one day she began having "accidents" all over the place, all day long. I thought it was a bladder infection, but everything was okay with that. I took her to the doctor (not the one who gave her shots, but the one who had been seeing Veronica) thinking it might be a kidney problem.  His answer?  Guess. Go ahead. Guess! 


"She's a little girl. That's what they do."   Yes, I say, but not to this degree. And Amy hates to be out of control of things, and she's very much a neat-nik, everything must be perfect, or she's not happy... this is very unlike her.  "Well" he says "you're pregnant. Again (this time with Elizabeth). And she's probably reverting back to her babyish ways."   I suppose, I said, but I don't think so.  He told me to go home and let her grow out of it. 


We tried everything... bribes, taking away toys, being super nice, sitting all day in the bathroom, getting angry, and crying. A lot.  This went on from ages three to four. I could not believe this really smart kid would just refuse to go to the bathroom and instead go on everything in sight. Tom and I were pulling our hair out with her.  I took her back to the doctor thinking it must be some sort of genetic defect. And I was really scared it had to be something from her days in utero where she had no fluid (which does have a lot to do with the formation of kidneys) or maybe the cord cut off too much blood flow to something in her brain... kinda seems silly now, but it was scary back then. 


So he says "oh, she's still little.  And she is probably constipated which can put pressure on her bladder and make her go. You should feed her a more balanced diet and lots of fiber."   Well, I took exception to this since my whole life at this point revolved around making sure my kids ate well. No, it was Primal, but I am fairly certain my kids were the only kids on the street who enjoyed eating salad and vegetables and ate things other than chicken nuggets and french fries. If that's what you feed your kids, I'm not judging that... I just wanted my kids to eat a lot of good for you food and so I really took that seriously. We would often talk about food at the table "who wants strawberries! What kind of nutrients are in strawberries... onions...broccoli...etc".  So I didn't like the idea that I must be a mom who is just stuffing cookies down Amy's throat and couldn't tell between constipation and a real problem.


I said "look, my kids probably eat better than 90% of your patients... she is not constipated. She has plenty of vegetables and whole grains and lots of water."  He didn't like that so he challenged me by saying "Okay, then we'll just have to get an x-ray to look at her colon."  I hate it when doctors try to prove points based on nothing...  "Okay. Go ahead."   

The xray came back a few days later. I had a phone call from the nurse saying "well, she's not constipated... but the dr wants you to go ahead and give her heavy doses of Miralax for a week."


Miralax is a white powder that you mix into liquid and it bulks up while in your intestines creating "fake fiber".  I said I was not going to give my 4 year old fake fiber just because, and since it is not constipation causing this bladder issue... what else could we do?   She said "He won't do anything until you try the miralax."   


What. Ever. 


We held off on giving her the miralax for a few months. I tried to up her vegetable intake and her water intake to see if that would help things. After another few months I told Tom she was getting worse and maybe we should try the miralax for a few days just so the doctor would take us seriously. Tom said ok, so we did.  Of course it did nothing to help Amy. I went back to the doctor (only because I needed him to order tests for me)  and he said "well, she's probably constipated, give her miralax."   Seriously? I mean, seriously?!   I said "you already checked her for constipation and the xray said she was clear."  He said that couldn't be true and he was going to check the xray again...only his computer wouldn't pull it up, so he was going to assume it was constipation anyway.   What the???


He said "well, I could refer you to a specialist but they'll be like "why are you wasting my time, she's four and this happens all the time."   I felt like punching him. Three visits to his office ... we've dealt with this for a year... and he has the nerve to tell me I'm wasting their time?  I said "I still want to do it."  And he said "they usually grow out of it by six months. Don't worry."  I wanted to scream :you do have *her* chart on the computer you have been staring at non-stop for the last five minutes, right?!  Instead I just said "it's been double that."  He said it must be because we had a new baby. I said "then why did it begin before the new baby was born?"  He said "it's not a big deal."  I said "yes, it is." 

I did take Amy to the chiropractor who had been helping us with Veronica. He worked on her a little, but it didn't seem to help. He did say that he's not specialized with little kids, so maybe a pedi chiro would work better. 


At this point Tom called in favors from one of his Harvard friends who went on to become a pediatrician. She didn't have much to say, if I recall correctly. I think she knew a couple of doctors in AL who might be able to help, but at this point I was burnt out on AL doctors (no offense, anyone!) so I said "we're moving in six months. Let's just wait until we get to Kansas."   So we did. 


Once we got to Kansas we had an ultrasound ordered for her... her kidneys showed that everything was well except that they couldn't find one of the tubes going from the kidney to the bladder. I said "oh good, is that the problem?!  The tech said "well, they kinda float around, so it could still be there."   They think it probably was hiding since there was no fluid backed up into the kidney and all else looked well.  Darn. I was hoping for an answer. 

We finally settled in with school and the new house and all that, so Dr. Rob (in AL) helped me find a chiropractor here in Kansas who might be good for the whole family. 

We found Dr. Stacy and she was really great from the start. I told her Amy's issues, said "Amy is now five and and still having these issues and I have nothing left to try."  She said "of course there is a problem. How could any doctor let this go on for so long?!"  I thought that was a great question. Dr Stacy has been working with Amy for about nine months now. Dr. Stacy said it was a nerve issue, that she had such a kink in her spine (and you could feel it) that it had to be blocking the nerve signal to her brain telling Amy "get to the bathroom" and so her bladder would just release whenever there was something in there.   Made sense. The ironic part is that Amy did become constipated at some point because she stopped drinking fluids "but Moooom, they always make me go to the bathroom!"

So it took about four months of Dr. S working on Amy to get her better. We still have no idea what would have happened to make the spine get all kinked up. And it's taken another two months for Amy's brain to relearn the "go to the bathroom" signal. We did have a few time periods where Amy (ever the strong willed child) used the "I'm not going to the bathroom just because you told me to" weapon.  Never worked. She would definitely get in trouble for that, but was often excused for the "I just got busy and forgot" accidents.  Still dealing with this issue for basically 3 1/2 years has really been draining (haha). 

Dr. Stacy has been amazing. She really worked very closely with us. She tried many different techniques, she gave us a lot of time and support, and after the first few visits, she treated Amy for FREE. She said if she could help our family, and especially help Amy to get back to normal, that would really make her day. What a 180 turn for us... going from such a dismissive, rude doctor to an all-out caring one. I was really touched. 

Even when Amy was going through her stubborn "you can't make me go to the bathroom" stage, Dr. Stacy went to the store and with her own money bought Amy "prizes" for every week she went to the bathroom five times (daily). I mean, really... she was off the clock and still took the time to work on Amy, even though she wasn't getting paid!   

Chiropractors rock. 

Okay, so what does this have to do with being Primal?  Well, not much, I suppose. At least, this part of the story isn't too primal, but she's always getting left out of stuff, so I thought it only fair to share her story as well.  Once we cleared up her bladder issue we had the time and energy to focus on her other health needs. 


She's, by far, my pickiest eater. She has to have foods cooked a certain way. She hates bone-in chicken because it's slimy and has "icky bones and stuff." She must be a texture person, because most of her complaints aren't about taste, but about how it feels or looks. Ugh. I don't know if it's a new power-play move or what, but I'm not playing. I serve her what I serve everyone else and she can choose to eat it or not.  She always loved pizza and mac 'n' cheese (whole grain) but she's been a job and a half since going Primal.  Thankfully she will willingly eat many vegetables and fruits and dairy, but she's difficult to please with meats. 


Amy is prone to anger outbursts. It can be pretty bad at times. Her sisters bear the many marks and a few scars from Amy's scratching and biting. I was really surprised when this behavior began since my other kids had never even really hit each other. Amy's anger was (and still can be) out of control. She is a perfectionist, and must be in charge, and has the final say, and is *never* wrong. I see a lot of myself in her, unfortunately. I don't bite though. 


Anyway, the whole house would kind of have an "aww man" moment when Amy would wake up for the day. We all knew it was going to be fighting and screaming and power struggles all day. It was really not a lot of fun to be around her. She was always angry. I tried the usual parental tricks of "this is your thing you are in charge of and nobody else can do it/touch it" or "as soon as you get angry, go to your room and sing a song" and "think of how much it hurts Jesus when you hurt your sisters" kinds of things. Nothing worked. 


About a month or two after Going Primal Tom and I both said one day "Hey... Amy is like a different kid!"  And she was/is. She is still prone to anger outbursts, and you can still find a claw mark on her sisters every once in a while (by the way, any advice on how to punish for that?) but overall, she has a lot of happy moments and fun-filled days.


I'm not sure what dietary thing she was eating (corn syrup, too much sugar, grain, food coloring, etc) that was magnifying these issues... but I'm glad it stopped! I really thought I was going to be dealing with a crazy-hulk-like kid for the next 12 years, and though I love her, I wasn't too thrilled about the idea of fighting all day, every day.


I've been allowing her to pick her own cheats since choosing stuff makes her feel in charge of herself, and because I want to see how her cheats affect her. Corn syrup is now on the "I don't care how much you beg, you can't have it" list. It turns her into a scary little thing within 20 minutes. No, thanks. 


Looking at all the changes my kids have made--just from diet!--it makes me wonder how many kids today are on medications, in therapy, or are labeled as "problem kids" needlessly?  And if the parents knew it could be controlled (at least to some degree) with monitoring food intake, would they choose to do it?  It does take a lot of time and energy to be a foodie.


Two morals to this story. 1) Always trust your parental gut. And 2) It's worth Going Primal, even if it's just two or three weeks, because you never know what kind of positive effect it will have on you and your children. I never would have thought to even seek a cure for Amy's anger, and it was a very great gift to have it reduced by just a few simple food choices.

Nice Summer Salad Recipe

Tom and I like to go to this nice restaurant about every 3-4 months. It's a really neat place, especially for Kansas, and serves real food. I don't know that it's organic, but a lot of it is locally grown and it's not made with processed garbage. Most of the fun is in the fact that every Wednesday the Row House does a "tasting" ... a four course meal, but you only get a small portion of each course. The idea, I think, is to sample their wares, and then for you to enjoy it enough for you to come back again and order a full order of whatever it is you liked.  


Tom and I enjoy it because it forces us to try things we would have never have tried before. 9 times out of 10 I really like what they present us. There have been a few things (like cucumber soup) that I have had to say "uhmmm... yeah... here Tom eat this quick and make it look like I loved it!"  Ha 


Anyway, we recently ate at Row House and among the other dishes, they served us a fresh salad. The ingredients: Spring mix salad, blueberries, feta cheese and a honey-lime dressing. 


I thought "UGH! I really dislike blueberries, and feta is so... feta-y. Blech!"  Surprisingly, it was very good. The blueberries and feta worked really well together. And the dressing was awesome. 


Tom has always enjoyed the more "fru-fru" salads, rather than just a bunch of vegetables mixed together, so I thought this recipe might be worth trying to figure out.  I probably don't have it just the way Row House prepared it, but I think it's close. 


Salad:


Organic Spring mix
Half cup blueberries
Freshly grated feta (maybe 2-3 tablespoons?)


Dressing:


Juice of two limes
1-2 tablespoons raw honey*
2 tablespoons olive oil


whisk together until blended.


*okay, so raw honey is kind of a pain to work with at times. It's not really runny and it takes forever to incorporate it into a smooth mixture. The first time I used honey (and then nearly threw it away I was so annoyed by the clumps), but I had to work with it for a while. The second time I use some maple syrup--high in antioxidants!--it's more powerful, so I cut the amount by half. 

Place greens in a pretty bowl. 
Sprinkle berries on top of greens. 
Use a mini-grater and grate feta on top of berries.
Pour your whisked dressing and pour over salad.
Toss gently if you want, but you'll lose the pretty berries to the bottom of the bowl.
Use a pretty spoon to serve. Why?  Because it makes it taste better. What? Yes, it does.  

Of course I meant to take a photo of the pretty bowl, but I didn't, so I only have a photo of it served on an ugly plate.