I'd like to introduce my next mother from the
Lioness Arising Mother series,
Robyn Charron. I first learned about her story a few months ago. When a
mothers story grips me and I can't stop thinking about it, I know I
have to re-tell their story. Robyn fits the definition of a Lioness
Arising Mother in every way and I am honored that she is allowing me to
share her sons story. It is both heartbreaking and encouraging.
Heartbreaking because this is the new normal and represents so many
children. And encouraging because this momma gets it. She. Gets. It.
If
you or anyone you know has a child with colic, reflux, head-banging,
food allergies, or constant rashes please share this story.
Share. This. Story.
In Robyn's own words....
"If
you wait until your child is born to think about vaccines, a vaccine
injury is almost impossible to recognize. You are too tired and
overwhelmed when it strikes. You are too immersed in the trees to see
the forest. Too busy putting band-aids on symptoms to see the
syndrome. You might be told that you have a sensitive, high-needs baby
on your hands and his sensitivities manifest as colic, reflux,
head-banging, food allergies, or contact rashes. You will be told that
it is all normal, which is the truth, considering what passes for normal
these days. Now I see these signs in other infants and I try to
intervene. I try to warn the parents that these sensitivities mean so
much more than their doctor tells them. I know that these parents are
too down in it to see for themselves.
My
son was born and like a lot of people, we put more thought into the
paint in his bedroom than we had into vaccinations. I knew one person,
nearly a decade ago, who didn’t vaccinate his children. He said, “We
don’t put that crap into our kids.” He scared me. I thought he was a
conspiracy theorist. I would never be like that guy.
We
were presented with the Hepatitis B vaccine paperwork on our child’s
third day of life, just before leaving the hospital. I have a Bachelor
of Science in Biology but I didn’t know what Hep B was. None of the
parenting books I’d read mentioned that I would be expected to make a
decision I knew nothing about while I was high on painkillers. If you
don’t already know, Hep B is a sexually transmitted blood borne disease
that is also spread through using dirty needles. Children don’t catch
Hep B at the playground, or from a sneeze, or from drinking water. The
vaccine administered to a newborn baby will have long worn off by the
time the child becomes sexually active. If a mother is Hep B positive
and has been receiving prenatal care, she certainly knows her status
prior to the baby arriving.
So why are hospitals vaccinating all of our newborns for Hepatitis B? Because they can. Because almost no one says “No.” It is as simple as that.
We
all want to trust our doctors. No one wants to believe that the CDC
and the AAP aren’t looking out for our best interests. No one wants to
retroactively realize they were responsible for harming their babies.
No one wants to debate their child’s pediatrician. No one wants to have
this battle with their spouse.
We
allowed the Hep B vaccine that day. We actually said, “It must be a
really big deal or it wouldn’t come with all of this consent paperwork,”
but allowed it anyway. We took our baby home that evening and spent
the wee morning hours wishing we could put that hysterical child back
into my body. We didn’t make a connection between the two events. We
were already too down in it to see.
A
week later we were still miserable. My husband would race home from
work to help me. I would still be in my pajamas, covered in spit-up,
leaking milk. Our baby would be crying. I would be crying. I wouldn’t
have fed myself, brushed my teeth or folded any laundry. At two weeks
old our son was diagnosed with “classic colic” and it did not let up for
the next five months. It was the most severe case of colic anyone in
our lives had ever seen. We ended up medicating him with an
antispasmodic to save our marriage.
Day before 2 month vaccinations
When
he was nine weeks old I took my fussy baby in for his 2-month checkup
and was attacked with paperwork. I wasn’t prepared for what the
check-up would entail. “Sign here, sign here, sign here, he needs his
vaccinations.” They were three injections and two orals that covered 7
diseases. “Is this safe? Why are there so many?” They don’t want you
to ask questions. They don’t have any answers. There is a list of
side-effects on the package inserts but they do not share it with you.
You are rushed to hurry up.
They try to strip you of all maternal instinct when you are in your most vulnerable postpartum state.
My
postpartum anxiety was sky-high. I was a shell of my former self and
sleep-deprived. I had been screamed at for hours on end by this
tortured baby. I was too down in it to think.
I
asked to nurse him through the shots and was denied. I signed off on
the vaccines. Within 20 minutes he fell into a deep unwakeable sleep.
This colicky child of ours did not usually fall asleep out in the middle
of commotion. He did not ordinarily pass out the moment I put him into
the car. I called my husband to tell him that something was wrong. I
put our son into his crib but even the transition did not wake him. I
hovered over him as he slept for hours—something he’d never done before.
When he finally did wake, he screamed a high pitched scream I’d never heard before or since.
I
remember running into his room and standing over him with the phone,
letting the nurse at the doctor’s office listen. She insisted this
hysteria was due to “pain from the injection site” and said I should
give him more Tylenol. I didn’t believe her. The note they sent me
home with said to call if he had a high-pitched scream so why were they
saying it was normal?
He
didn’t want to be held. He didn’t want me touching him. After 15
minutes of ear-splitting screams I nursed him back to sleep. I was
sitting inches from him in his baby hammock chair when he woke the
second time. I will never forget the way his arms stiffened up
and shot out from his body with his piercing screams. His eyes
scrunched tightly shut as he put every ounce of his energy into the
terrifying sounds coming out of his teeny, tiny person. He wasn’t
looking at me. He didn’t even know I was there. He went back to sleep
and the scream stopped.
I stayed up all night doing the research I should have done 2 months before.
His scream was
cry-encephalitis, also known as the DTaP scream. It is brain inflammation.
It is literally an allergic reaction to vaccines in the brain.
It is not uncommon. Had I taken him to the ER, it would have been
documented with an EEG. Instead I was lied to by my pediatrician’s
office until the event had passed.
That was the beginning of the end of vaccines for us.
Children do not have the requisite
myelin sheath
coating their nervous system pathways to withstand bombardment of
viruses, aluminum, mercury, formaldehyde, MSG, and animal DNA. Damage
to the nerves not covered by myelin sheath is autism. It is
Asperger’s. It is epilepsy. It is asthma. It is
well-documented
and accepted by mainstream media that damage to the myelin sheath is
physically and mentally debilitating in head injuries, yet the
connection to autism remains unacknowledged.
Believe
me, it made me sick to think about not vaccinating my child. I
flip-flopped on my stance countless times. I told myself that at his
next vaccinations we would go wait in the parking lot of the emergency
room just in case. Then I told myself that was crazy talk—what kind of
mother would subject her child to something that might send him to the
emergency room? The day before his 4-month doctor appointment I finally
got up the nerve to tell his doctor we were holding off on more
vaccinations until he turned one. The doctor took the news so well that
I felt silly for making myself sick over it.
Our
baby now had eczema all of the time. At 4 months he was covered head
to toe in a body rash from his first tablespoon of banana. We held off
two more months for solid food. At 6 months old he developed a contact
rash on his face from sweet potatoes. I pushed his doctor for answers,
and a blood test came back positive for a peanut allergy.
My 6 month old breastfed baby had deadly peanut allergy. I didn’t see a connection. I was way too down in it by now.
At
12 months old his pediatrician who promised us that he “wasn’t a
stickler” for the CDC vaccination schedule kicked us out of the practice
for not resuming the shots. “It’s stressing me out not to vaccinate
your child,” he said. I was holding my baby in my arms, trying to
explain our fears, describing how horrible that terrifying day ten
months prior had been. I told him how worried I was that we would end
up in the ER this time. I was humiliated. He’d told his entire staff
he was kicking us out that day. I left in tears. I thought of all of
the things I’d wished I said to him for months to come.
We
never did resume the vaccines. It took some time to feel confident in
that decision. My supportive husband stood by me in our defiance even
though neither of us knew what we were doing, and man we were scared.
Meet Mary, Martha, and Lazarus.
Uh oh, Lazarus has a tummy-ache.
Recently
I read some comments from mothers which grieved my heart. One mother
said she would love to have more children but couldn't afford to build
more rooms to their home to accommodate them. Another said she would
like more but believed that God does not guarantee to provide all our
needs. It is true that if we looked at our financial circumstances most
of us would never have children. But God doesn't provide for children
before they come to us, but when they arrive.