Regina's Story

I thought I'd write up the stories of each of my four girls. Their health, the doctors, the food... what changed and how it helped.


Let's start with my eldest:

Regina -- 6/18/2003


I fell pregnant with Regina in late September 2002. The pregnancy was a rough one, and she was late by nine days. Labor and delivery lasted 13 hours after being induced for high blood pressures and no amniotic fluid. 


Regina came into the world weighing 7lbs 0oz and 21" long. The only problem she had was a hooked lower leg and foot. Apparently it was caused by my being a short person (5'1) and she had run out of room. (Thankfully all was made right after a few months of therapy and exercises.)  Other than that, she nursed very well, she slept well, and she was a great baby. 


Everything changed at two weeks old. 


One day I noticed she felt warm and was unusually fussy. I took her temperature and found she had a 100.4 degree fever. I called her pediatrician, who was out, so I had to call the ER where the On-Call doctor said "It's no big deal. Call me if it get's to 101.4." 

I figured an ER doctor would know what to do, so I took Regina outside and we walked... I bumped into a neighbor and she said "that baby looks sick." So I told her how I already called the doctor and what he said. Her reply was "You're the mom, get her to the hospital!" saying it in a "what's wrong with you?!" tone. So I went!


The hospital was a horrible experience. They refused to call Peds down to get the IV going and instead they used the ER nurse (who clearly didn't know how to draw blood from a newborn), so Regina freaked out and screamed and screamed. They finally did some blood work and a few other tests, and said "we're not sure... probably a UTI (bladder infection). Give her this antibiotic."  


I was skeptical since my Mom (an RN) had always talked about not taking too many antibiotics, and the ER could not give me a solid diagnosis. However, I didn't know what else to do with a feverish newborn, and the threat of meningitis scared me enough to give her the antibiotic.Within 24 hours her fever went away, we relaxed, then all seemed fine. 


And it was fine. Until it wasn't.


For the next nine months Regina had a horrible case of colic. She screamed up to 16 hours a day. I would hold her constantly in an effort to calm her. I sang, I danced, I walked, I tried baths, gas drops, wrapping tight and heating pads. Nothing worked. Nothing. And in the meantime the screams were terrible--full of pain and agony and even anger. I was at a loss. I have ten younger brothers and sisters, so I knew how to deal with crying babies. I had never seen a baby cry so much! 


During this time she had also developed what the doctors called Constipation. She couldn't defecate. I would watch as her stomach would distend, as she would grimace and scream, and knew I could do nothing to help her. The only way I could help relieve her was by inserting a q-tip with jelly on it. And all that would come out was liquid at a high force. What the heck? How could this be constipation?


I took her to several doctors: our pediatrician and two specialists. 


When I tearfully went into our pediatrician and told him that all she does is cry, she screams in pain, and can only defecate when helped. He smiled, and said "babies cry. You're a young mom. It takes a while to get used to things. She's fine."  I remember crying in anger. Anger of his reaction and anger at the helplessness I felt. 


I finally got into a specialist in Queens, NY when Regina was 10 weeks old. I typed up a paper which told what her symptoms were. When they started. What we had tried. And how she reacted to the things we used. I handed the doctor the paper and said "this will help explain a lot."  The doctor took the paper, but didn't read it. Not even a glance! She simply said "well, babies cry... it takes a while for their intestinal system to mature. You should start feeding her baby food. Sometimes the fiber from it will help push things along."  When I said "if you look at the paper, you'll see we have tried giving her prune juice and it had no effect." She didn't like that. She repeated "give her baby food, and she'll be fine."


The other specialist said the same thing. 


They wouldn't even read the paper. I was so disheartened, but I figured they are doctors, they must know something, so I took Regina home and tried to feed her some rice mixed with prunes. Yeah, that resulted in nothing but a huge mess all over her clothes. Babies at ten weeks old are not meant to eat. I tried a few more times over the next few days, but quickly gave up since there was no change, and I was skeptical the theory of it was even legit. 


At this point Tom and I just realized that it was going to be apart of our daily lives. And we prayed and hoped Regina would just grow out of it. We didn't know what else to do. 


Around 10-12 months old, she seemed to be getting better. She still couldn't go to the bathroom on her own. She had a majorly distended stomach (we even had to buy shirts two sizes too big just to accommodate it) and always looked tired, but she had stopped screaming. She had turned into a really bright baby who loved books and being outside. She loved to play dress up. And hated taking naps. 


By age two I realized that she was still waking up three or more times a night asking for juice or water. We lived in an apartment (in scary NY) so I didn't dare let her just cry it out... plus it seemed like she truly needed it. (Now we weren't juice people really... I would give her a max of 4 ounces of pure apple juice, per 24 hours, but always diluted 2 oz juice with 6 oz water.) She would freak if she didn't have it... I started logging how much liquid she was consuming per 24 hours day (milk, water, and juice/water), I did this for a week, and it came to over 100oz per day for a two year old! 


What is normal, you ask? Most toddlers between the ages of 1 and 3 drink approximately 44 ounces. Regina was drinking about three times the normal amount, and she still couldn't get enough. This really frightened me so I took her back to the pediatrician, wondering if she had Diabetes Insipidus. I walk in and say "Something is wrong with this baby. Her stomach is so big, she is constantly drinking, she can't sleep through the night..."  And again, he smiled and said "well, kids start sleeping through the night when parents run out of patience. The question is: how patient are you?  She is fine."  

What the heck did that even mean? Was he saying I was doing the wrong thing by getting up with her? Did he mean that I should get angry with her and tell her to shut up and go to sleep? Again, I have a million younger siblings, I know when kids are playing you and when something is really wrong. Something-I don't know what-was really wrong, and I wasn't going to allow her to suffer alone at night. 

From the age of two Regina would ask for salads, she liked dessert but it wouldn't be her go-to, she loved fruit and vegetables... I was always amazed and thrilled that my little girl wasn't just a "I only eat chicken nuggets" kid, but was sort of mystified as to why that was. Being pregnant, McDonald's was my new best friend (when I was able to eat, at least) so I was sure she was going to be a chicken and fries kid. But she refused. She wanted salad with grilled chicken. I wish I had realized why at the time....


*I should mention that Regina had all over vaccinations because my doctor told me he'd turn me into Child Protective Services if I did not comply. I don't know if NY had a law about this or if he was just that outraged that I would question him. In any event, I was young and scared, and didn't want to go to jail, so Regina had her full series of shots.*


Anyway, after seeing several doctors over the years and never getting more than a condescending pat on the head and a "she's fine" we decided to stay away from any doctor as much as possible. We made peace with the fact that she would just have issues and we would do our best to help her out with diet and exercise. I was always looking for things on the internet and hoping to find answers, but there was really nothing.


We move to Alabama just days before Regina's third birthday (we also have two more girls by now) and hoped to get her feeling better in a new environment. It didn't work though. She was potty-trained at this point, and was able to manage her constipation on her own, but still looked tired, her hair was thin and brittle, she still looked six months pregnant in the stomach and had trouble sleeping. Sad to say, it was a new normal for us, so we didn't even give it a second thought. I refused to take her to the doctor in AL since I could only get into the clinic which had a reputation for calling CPS on you should you refuse to follow the doctors orders or the medications they dispensed. 


A year or two later a new doctor came into town. His website said he wanted to find the root of all health problems, not just treat the symptoms, and he wanted to treat the whole family not just see us us numbers. I thought this sounded promising... so I made an appointment and got Regina in as soon as I could. 

Again, I took in a paper of her health history, what we've tried, and how she's still the same. Of course, he didn't read it. He took an x-ray of her stomach, drew some blood, and --surprise-- he told me nothing was wrong with her.  "Kids have big stomachs. It's nothing new. She's fine."  I wanted to scream "I am so tired of hearing this!" but that would have been rude, so I didn't. I pressed "but she also can't stand touching certain fabrics, brushing her hair kills her, and she is always looking tired and dazed... even though she is very bright and happy."  He smiled. 

I really hate doctor smiles.


We went back six months later. He told me to clean out her colon by giving her Miralax. That constipation was causing the distention and the inability to go to the bathroom. When I said it had to be a deeper problem because she eats well and runs around a lot, so there is little reason for her to be constipated... he smiled and said "well, how much caffeine does she drink?"  What?! Nothing! Who feeds there 3-4-5 year olds caffeine?! He looked surprised at that, which was sad.  Then he said "well, if you add in more vegetables, and not so many fries, that might help."  I couldn't believe how much he refused to listen. I replied "Yes, I know. that's what she eats salads daily, drinks water, and doesn't fill up on chicken nuggets" (not that we didn't take them to McDonald's occasionally, because we did). He shrugged it off, and said her colon was indeed impacted, so she needed to use the Miralax. Not know what else to do, we gave it to her twice a day for a week. It helped move things, but it did not solve her big stomach or other digestive issues. 


We went back and I asked him to test her for food allergies since I had heard that some allergies can cause digestive issues. He said "well, I could, but ... could you bring her back at the end of the month, because it's expensive and I only do those tests at the end of the month."   At this point I was done. I was the one paying for it, I had a child who was sick NOW, and I wanted answers NOW. No, I am not going to come back in a month. I am, however, going to find somebody else to help us. 


But where do I go?  At this point Regina is five years old. I was pregnant with our fourth baby, Grace (who is now in heaven), and had a nanny half the time. She had suggested we see a chiropractor. 


I was skeptical since I had always been told "chiropractors are for weird people", but I had nowhere else to turn, so I made an appointment and we went. 


This chiropractor spent time with both Regina and me, ran some tests on her spine, and helped me out by ordering blood tests for allergies. He was nothing short of a miracle. He could tell what was wrong with Regina before I gave him any information. It was really shocking. And it filled me full of hope. 


The tests came back that Regina had 5+ responses (very allergic) to: soy, egg yolk, peanuts, dairy, and one other thing... (I can't remember if gluten was in this test or not, but we realized by Going Primal that she is indeed intolerant of gluten.)


So we made drastic eating habit changes and hoped for the best.  She did seem to perk up a little bit, but she still had the big stomach and looked tired all the time. 


Forward another two and a half years (to August of 2011) and we now live in Kansas. We drive from Kansas to Alabama where we would spend the Summer. It's a two day drive so we spent the night in a hotel just outside of Arkansas. I woke up several times that night with my heart racing and my brain screaming "breathe, breathe!" it took me a while to figure out why this was happening, but it finally dawned on me that Regina was not breathing while she was sleeping. She had Sleep Apnea!


After I read about sleep apnea, and realized Regina had every symptom, I became furious the doctors had not picked up on this. . . the tonsils three times the normal size, the inability to swallow correctly, her muddled speech, her tiredness and not sleeping well... and strep throat 3-5 times a year. How could they not have suspected?


We had her tonsils out in September. We didn't decide this lightly... I really was hesitant to just put her under general anesthesia and have a serious operation, but given that she wouldn't grow into her tonsils, and the apnea was fairly severe, we decided it was the right thing to do. 


The recovery was rough on her. She suffered depression for about four weeks afterwards, but after completely recovering, she was a whole new kid. Almost. She still had the stomach issues and the bathroom problems, but she was bright-eyed, more attentive, and slept much sounder. She no longer sounded like Darth Vader when breathing. And seemed much happier overall. 


The last piece of the puzzle came when we went Primal. Taking away gluten got rid of her big belly, and her constipation problems. 


So looking back, I think the antibiotics at two weeks old caused her gut to weaken, it never recovered because I was told to feed her things (rice, oatmeal, etc) that would further the damage, and this damage led to a gluten intolerance and other allergies/intolerances. And probably the vaccines didn't help either.

The constant water drinking and craving non-carb foods was her body's way, I think, of trying to repair itself and trying to rid the toxins from the damaged gut. Really amazing when you think about it. 


She also had mold sensitivities (this will be more of a central point in Veronica's Story), which compromised her liver, and also compromised her ability to heal her gut.


I can honestly say I did the best I could with the information and help (or lack thereof) I had at the time, so I don't like to play the "if I had only done...X" game, but there are those days where I beat myself up because I feel like I'm the one who gave her the health problems. 


What would have happened if I hadn't been so scared of doctors threats? 


What would have happened if I had demanded they do what I wanted, when I wanted it done?

What would have happened if I hadn't bought into the hype that doctors must know better than me, and I had gone on to trust my gut?


What would have happened if I had known what effects antibiotics have on our gut, and how foods can encourage candida or aid in its dissipation?


What could happen if parents are better armed with knowledge of how our bodies work and how important the choice of foods are to its function?

Dare to believe that the power to heal your children is within your reach and that healing may not always include doctors.*
 

*I am not disputing the important role many doctors play in the health of many people. There are cases in which a real M.D. doctor is necessary, and there are doctors out there who are good doctors and want to help parents do what is best for their children. I just haven't met any of them. Yet. 

Veronica's Story

Veronica Lynn was born on 2/1/2005 just one day before her "official" due date. Just like the first pregnancy, this time around wasn't any easier. In fact, it was worse since I now I had a toddler to run after. And after weeks being on bedrest, constant monitoring, and depression the doctors decided to induce me because I had mild pre-eclampsia and, again, no amniotic fluid. 

Veronica, age 6 (Oct. 2011)

Veronica was born after about five or six hours. She was 6lbs, 7oz and about 18" long. She did really well the first day or two, and just before we headed out of the hospital I noticed that she would vomit everytime she ate, so we called in the doctor and he said it was GERD, and I should consider putting her on medication for it. I considered it. For about ten seconds. I figured she would grow out of it. (She did not.)


Other than the GERD Veronica was the perfect baby. Always happy. Rarely cried. Content to be by herself. It was great... a totally different experience from our first born. She hit all her milestones on time, I think. Sat at six months, walked at 13 months, had a great vocabulary for her age. So I thought we were in the clear. 

And then came the terrible twos. 


Okay, so every kid has phases (for me I find the ages 3 and 4 to be the worst--so far) and having dealt with so many cousins and siblings, I knew the tug-o-war games two year olds can play, so we just dealt with it. Until two and a half came along and I sensed something was not quite right. 


Veronica had always been so loving and sweet and kind and then one day, bam!, that all went out the window.


All of a sudden her new normal consisted of fits of anger (which were more like rages). She would hit herself. Scream about nothing. She was constantly whining and having meltdowns for no apparent reason. I figured she must just a strong-willed kid, so I put her in more timeouts, took away toys, and held her a lot. Nothing was working. 

We stayed home almost all the time since I rarely had energy to take three kids (yes, we had another, Amy, when Veronica was about 19 months old) under the age of three anywhere, so I thought I'd enroll Regina and Veronica in ballet and gym classes. My thinking was that the kids needed to get out and maybe this would help calm Veronica down in some way. 


Regina did well with ballet. Veronica did not. She would immediately cry and mumble things like "I can't do it. I don't want to. I just can't" and since she is a melancholic, I thought this was just her way, so I tried to teach her (well, as much as you can teach a two year old) fortitude. It was just 45 minutes a week, I figured she could handle that. At the end of the teaching year one of her teachers said "yeah, she gets very aggressive and tries to choke the other kids."  To say I was shocked is an understatement. I told the teacher I should have been made aware of this from the beginning, not six months later. Not that it was her fault, really. She was young and tried to deal with Veronica on her own. So kudos to her for putting up with it that long. 


Also once a week Veronica would go to gym class. She loved to run and be wild, so I thought this would allow her to be in a controlled situation and still allow her to have fun. She really struggled with it. She would sit on the mat, rock back and forth with her hands on her ears, and cry.  As a parent I had two feelings: the first was "I have to make it better for her!" the other was "wait and see, maybe it's just a learning curve." 


Now some of you are thinking "what the heck is wrong with you, woman?!"  I should have immediately seen she was in distress and needed my intervention, right?  Perhaps. I find that parenting is a lot like groping around in the dark and eventually you'll hit the right light switch. It's not that I didn't care. I was constantly worried about her. I just didn't know what to do, and I didn't have any proof that she was anything other than a headstrong little kid. 


Anyway, I spoke with her teacher, an older gentleman who worked wonders with children. He really was so patient and loving with all the kids in his class, so I trusted him when he said "She's fine. You need to let her grow. And she has to learn that some things are hard and you have to work at it." Sounded plausible. We continued to go to gym and each week I would be a bundle of nerves while the teacher tried to instill fortitude into Veronica, who at this point was closer to 3 or 3 1/2 year old. 


Life at home was really, really difficult. There were days where I would wake up crying thinking "how am I going to survive this day... having to take care of Veronica is like three full-time jobs and I have two other children to care for!" Those were the days I lived on Coke and prayers. 


Everything set Veronica off. Her favorite dress was dirty... Regina took her coloring book... the milk was not the right temperature... the music was too loud... the music was too low... the lights were too bright... she wanted to sleep... she didn't want to sleep... the TV was too colorful... the food was too soft... the food was too warm or cold... e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g was a battle which meant tantrums ensued daily, often hourly.  We couldn't go to certain restaurants since they played music. We couldn't go to many new places since change often freaked Veronica out. I once cut my hair about six inches and Veronica just could not handle it. "Why is your hair cut? Why did you do it? Is it coming back?!" This went on for about three days.


One day, after many talks with the gym teacher, I said "I just don't get it." And he said, very quietly, "you know, please don't be offended" (and here I thought he was about to tell me just how much I stink as a mother) "but have you ever... I hesitate to say it... considered that she may be autistic?"


I think I was too shocked to say anything.


By this point we were expecting another little one which meant I was on the verge of death (if felt like) and had to take care of Veronica. It was time to call in help. By the grace of God we found a really amazing nanny. Erika had been homeschooled, was very gentle and sweet, but knew all the tricks that children play, and knew how to eat well, so I knew I could trust her. Little did we know just how big of a part she was to play in our lives. 


I would sleep most of the day and Erika would care for the kids from 8-12pm daily. Then I'd drag myself out of bed and we would confer about the children. Erika always had some great insights, but was never, ever pushy about it. She would always wait for me to ask "what do you think...?" before she'd offer her usual spot-on advice. 

Most of our talks seemed to consist of Veronica and how to better deal with her. A few times I was so unwell that I would ask Erika to drive Veronica to her gym class. One day Erika came home from the class and said "The poor baby just can't handle it. She sat and cried and looked so sad... so I went in and got her. She just cried and cried and I said to her "you poor thing, you're just waiting to be rescued, aren't you?" And Veronica nodded "yes".  

Broke my heart.  


It was decided that something was not right and we would need to get to the bottom of it. A new doctor had moved into town and word on the street was that he really wanted to get to the root cause of medical problems, be all ears, and was very warm and listened well. So we signed up and went in. 


He was told him about how rough the last year and a half had been. We talked about the dark circles (so bad she looked like she had been punched) under her eyes. The eczema that was always on her inner arm and behind her knees. Her dry, scale-like skin everywhere else. And her breath! Her breath was the worst I've ever been around. I asked "what is this white stuff caked to her tongue?" He says "Oh, kids get that when they've had a cold." Umm... she doesn't have a cold.


I told him that things were getting worse, not better, and that a couple of people (also the ballet instructor) had mentioned autistic-like behavior.


The doctor immediately rolled his eyes and said "she is not autistic!"  I said I didn't think that term quite fit either, but there is definitely something wrong. His response was "no, she's fine, she's just a bratty kid."  


:::gapping mouth::::


Well, maybe, I say, but there's more to it. Maybe a food allergy? Some friends had mentioned food allergies can make kids weird. I thought *that* sounded weird, but I was willing to do anything. I asked him to run a food allergy test. He said " :::sigh::: I suppose we could do that, but you'd have to come back at the end of next month. We only do those test in bulk since it costs money."  

Come again?  You want me to take my obviously hurting child home for six weeks, bring her (and the other two kids) back in, so you can save some time and a few bucks? 

I'M the one paying for it!

The lack of compassion, understanding, concern was astounding to me. This wasn't a two week phase, this was going on for close to two YEARS. And I wasn't in there asking for a pill to remedy her. I just wanted some answers. 

I left the doctor feeling very alone and disheartened. How was I suppose to help her when I couldn't even understand her?

Erika had been telling me about things she had been trying with Veronica. Things like speaking softly, keeping things calm and quiet, and basically keeping stimuli down as much as possible. And while these things did help a little, it wasn't enough. 

One day I was standing with Erika, talking about the kids, when Veronica was in the middle of a meltdown. I just looked at Erika and said "what is wrong with her?!" I felt like crying myself.

Erika said offered some thoughts and something like "we have a great chiropractor, maybe you would want to go in and see him?"  Looking back, I am sure Erika had identified several things Veronica was having trouble with, but didn't want to usurp my role as the mother. She waiting until asked, but then was very good about voicing her thoughts. 

A chiropractor, eh?  But, wait, aren't they for the weirdo, health-nut people?  Oh well, I'll try it anyway, I thought. I made the appointment and Dr. Rob spent TWO HOURS (he didn't even look at his watch!) talking to me and Veronica about the issues we were facing. In fact, he correctly identified several problems Veronica was having before I even gave him her history. I am a skeptic by nature, but I left that office a true believer. 


This doctor wasn't the typical arrogant jerk like so many of the doctors I had seen before him. He was kind, yet firm, he listened, *really* listened and asked follow up questions that were actually pertinent to the discussion. In no way did he lord it over me that he was the doctor and I was just the lowly patient's mother. He respected me and my role in my child's life. No he wasn't arrogant, but he was amazingly smart and confident.


He recommended we check her spine (which was wacky), and that we have blood work drawn to check for food allergies and metal levels. and that I should come in often and see if we could get her back in order.  Could he have been playing me for a fool? Yup. Would I have known any better? Nope. But my gut said this was the right fit, so we tried it. 


The blood work came back that Veronica is allergic to dairy (except butter and yogurt) and almonds. On one hand, we were really happy to have some answers. On the other, it was such a bummer since the kids loved cheese. Veronica wanted to eat cheese all the time (apparently one sign that you are allergic/intolerant to a food is you constantly crave it since your body cannot process it). She loved grilled cheese, macaroni and cheese, pizza... etc. How was I now going to tell her she couldn't have that anymore?


The blood work also showed she had high levels of lead and aluminum. And when these two metals are combined it can be especially harmful. Scary! Even more scary was the fact that we had no idea how she would have ingested these things.


We immediately took her off all dairy. And we did a few things to get rid of the metals. Both of these things had side-effects, which basically intensified all the issues Veronica was already having (more rashes, more panicky situations, more sensitivity to sound) and we battled this for what seemed like forever (a few months?) until we slowly began to see some real progress. 


During those few months it was a great trial. On many occasions Veronica and I would have to leave friends homes, family outings, turn off movies, not be involved in anything... anything that required Veronica to be in a group of more than two or three people never ended well. I took her out of gym (much to the chagrin of the teacher) and decided not to have her return for ballet. I still cried several times a week: the constant struggles, the relearning foods, devouring books and online articles (all while pregnant) and trying to do what was best for Veronica was really very difficult. After nearly two years of constant strife, I was ready for a break! But we made it through with our nanny, Dr. Rob, and supportive family members. Whatever the battle we had to fight, at least we had answers and a goal in mind. 

Slowly, but surely, Veronica was getting much better. She really blossomed into a wonderfully sweet child. It seemed like a miracle to Tom and me. 

Though she was 90% better, I knew there was still something else going on. And, again, I didn't know what. Erika came to the rescue! She had mentioned that her husband had some mold issues, and perhaps Veronica might too. Mold? I've never heard of mold causing health problems, at least, nothing serious. Erika provided us with some food for thought on mold and its effects*. I began reading like crazy and was astounded at what I found. Why does nobody talk about black mold? 


My chiropractor (who was now seeing everyone on the family except me--don't touch me when I'm pregnant and dying, yo!) mentioned black mold and that we must have it in the house. I said we absolutely did not have black mold... we were the first owners of the brand-new house and I kept the place clean, thank you very much. Yet, Dr. Rob insisted that it was there somewhere.  Uh-huh, okay. 


A few months later Tom ended up in the ER with what we thought was a brain bleed (a story for another time), turns out it wasn't, but he was not himself and Veronica was not getting better. Okay, fine, I'll call the mold people! So I did. They found three different types of mold in my house. Two of them were not so bad, but then they said "you have black mold someplace!"  What?!? The house is four years old, how could we possibly have black mold?! 


Sure enough. It was all throughout the air condition system and was being blown out nearly constantly since we lived in the hot and humid South.. we had the AC on almost all year long. ACK! Turns out the AC people did not insult it correctly so the mold was eating the insulation and spreading. Eww. We had it removed immediately. Since I was pregnant, and the kids were so sensitive to it, and Tom was recovering at his mother's house, I decided to go to a hotel for three days until the mold was cleared out. So I'm at the hotel with three kids, pregnant, and ... a migraine hits.  Fuuuuuuun times.


Once the mold was removed it seemed everyone was doing much better. Thank God! 


I know Dr. Rob and Erika must have wanted to say "see????"  but they didn't, because they're nice like that. Much nicer than I would be.


One last piece of the puzzle... we moved from Alabama to Kansas and put the kids in a great private school. Veronica began to revert back to her emotional meltdowns during school. Please, God, no, I can't handle this anymore! We struggled for about a few months and couldn't figure it out. I even tested the school for mold, but nothing came up. I finally took Veronica into a dentist, just for the heck of it, and it turns out she had a gum infection and several teeth which needed to be pulled and/or crowned. The dentist said the infection must have been there for quite a while and didn't we notice it was an issue?  No, she had never complained about her teeth, I said.  He told me to give her an antibiotic and bring her back to his office in two weeks for a full dental work up.  


I did not give her the antibiotic, but did have her rinse her mouth with salt water three times a day for weeks. It took two full weeks for her gum to stop oozing gunk! She never developed a fever or any other symptoms, thank God. I did fill the antibiotic prescription just in case. An infection from the gum can quickly go to the brain, so I wanted to be ready if she started showing other signs of distress. Thankfully, we didn't have to use it! 

After she recovered from her $4,000 worth of dental work, she was a completely new child. Now I can say she is 100% healthy. My gut is at peace once again. And now that we've GP, I am sure she will stay healthy for a long time to come. 

By the way, the white coating on her tongue was from a major candida infection... not just something kids get from a cold. Dr. Rob identified this problem in her, and was able to get us started on high does of high-level probiotics. We also cut out unnecessary sugars and adding in a lot of fresh food. It took a few months, but we finally licked it, so to speak. And her awful breath went away! Halleluiah! She is still prone to yeast infections, so I always had/have to be vigilant with her... now that we've GP it has really helped her out a lot, and it has helped me keep my sanity. 

Most days anyway. 

Other benefits of her GP is her moods are much more consistent, she's more manageable, and sleeps much sounder.


To this day I can hardly believe that food, metals, and mold can have such a devastating effect on people. It's insane that these things can cause you to mimic autistic That is really scary. And, in a way, really awesome. It makes you realize that food is extremely important to life. So when people ask me why buying non-GMO food or clean, organic foods is such a big deal, I always wish I could give them a week with the "Old Veronica". 

They would understand immediately. 

Many, many thanks to Erika, her husband, and Dr. Rob for their constant support, suggestions, and patience with not only Veronica, but with me as well. I truly don't know what would have happened to my marriage, to my family, and to my mental state had we not been guided by these very special people. 
*This is not the best article on Black Mold, but it's the first one I found when I Googled it, and it will give you some idea.

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.