It must be said.

My third blog post in a week?! And from my iPhone.  This one's been percolating for about 24 hours.

Yesterday, I had five new autism families come to me for help. FIVE.  It's usually one or two a week.  When the family comes to you, you hear their story. You relive your own. You remember the frantic helplessness. You remember the longest lasting anguish imaginable. Five times yesterday.

My purpose on this planet now is to show others the way around chronic illness, and through it if they are already there. 

But it's also to stay strong enough here to keep pulling myself and my son through it, and yesterday made my well run dry.  Going to have to learn to balance this if this volume of numbers continues.   

Andrew is walking for a day or two after a pulsatilla dose, then stopping again.  Going to talk to the doc about it Monday when I bring Ava in.

I have had high-anxiety dreams this week, they are making my heart and head race and keep me on edge all day long. 

Tuesday I was in the grocery store with Benjamin, picking up things to make a meal for a new-mom friend, and in the gluten free aisles ran into a mom of autism. They dabble in gluten and dairy free, but haven't gone full force .  She asked if it helped and I told her diet has been our most important intervention. She looked like she wanted to ask more. I didn't offer anything.  Nothing.  Since when do I stay silent?  How long will it haunt me that I could have sent her to Dr Gruber or TACA and I did NOTHING?   Said nothing. 

Am I trying so hard to be non confrontational that I am denying my truth?

It's a balancing act.  Every day I post stories about sick babies and I think: how many more oft real life friends will block me on Facebook today?  So in real life with this woman, I didn't want a rejection?   Why does my pride even get to be a factor in the quest to save babies?  So unlike me. 

But it's cost me. I feel uncomfortable around most humans now: they know what I think, the articles I post, my thoughts on this blog. And it's all out there because it's such an important story to tell: autism is treatable and preventable.  We are proving it.  But at a cost.   I can say I don't care what you think of me, but in truth, when you turn around and get your child the flu shot after the year of work I have done, it feels like a blatant rejection of me and my truth.

My feelings shouldn't matter in this.  It's okay when friends agree to disagree. But this, children's health, is my purpose, and feels like my entire life, so it is difficult to not take it personally when the humans around me , sweet friends of mine, make different choices. I am isolating myself a lot, on purpose. 

And I know there are people making different choices because of my truth, and that's really all I can ask for. 

Some days it just gets to me.

I have given you 81 peer reviewed, published in medical journal studies that prove the vaccination/autism connection. It's not just the heavy metals/neurotoxins. It's everything about them. They change our very DNA.  I have showed you the role GMOs play in our poor health.  Showed you that Tylenol causes autism and asthma. I have linked you to articles that prove beyond a shadow of doubt that herd immunity is fiction, that outbreaks are cyclical. That we create new diseases with vaccinations. That the effects of even one round of antibiotics change the body forever. I really don't know what is left to question. 

Part of the problem this week is that I am tired! I am taking care of ME! And exercising six days a week, for going on 3 weeks, and have already lost 6 lbs. my body is changing and I am a little more sensitive because I am hungry, and out here exposed without my ice cream crutch to make it better at the end of the day.  

My heart is, as always, thankful. We are in such a good place.  It's just a strange transition time. 

The healing power of homeopathy

So, Andrew got sick the Sunday after Christmas.  The stomach bug that lasted five/six days. It was really rough.  By the end, our guy was pretty weak and very tired.  Within a few days of his recovery, though, we began to notice he wouldn't walk.  He was parked on the couch or clinging to us til we held him. He was incredibly wobbly when we put him in the middle of the room, could barely make it to the couch.  Poor boy.

His SonRise sessions occurred on his volunteers laps.

I started to worry, we had a naturopath appt scheduled but it kept getting moved due to a burst pipe in her new office.  As we approached two weeks of him not walking, I was extremely concerned.

On Monday we finally went to our DAN/ND.  I relayed the story above to her, and she smiled and said, easy! He needs pulsatilla!    

I had pulsatilla in my cabinet. We use it to ward off colds and for Bens extraordinary clinginess/shyness when it gets bad.  We popped two in Andrews mouth and the appointment continued.

I carried him out to the waiting room and went for his coat and was paying, and he was gone!!! He had run down the hall to his doctor's office.  Ha!! It works quickly!

We had to re- dose him yesterday again, but today he is up on his feet like nothing ever happened.

Next on my "to become an expert in" list, homeopathy. 

January 17

This week marks our one year autism anniversary.  Just as on the day of diagnosis, there will be no tears or sadness.   But for entirely different reasons.  On his day of diagnosis, I was all cried out. We needed the label to have access to services.  It didn't mean anything.  I had cried for months about losing the Andrew I knew.  I don't have to tell you about my intense grief -- you already read it. 

Today, a year later, there are no tears because I am content.  I have learned that autism isn't a life sentence.  I have learned so much to help Andrew's symptoms, there are days he hardly seems fitting of the diagnosis.  Today I celebrate so much of my life because the people in it , those there before and now these amazing friends I have met since, are gifts I wouldn't have otherwise.   My marriage has never been stronger.  My outlook has never been more positive.  I celebrate each day and little progression so much, nothing goes unnoticed, which is a pretty awesome way to spend my days.  Celebrating my kids and our steps forward. 

On this 1-year anniversary of autism I am thankful we are on the road to recovery.   His ATEC (evaluation to determine severity of affliction) was 106 a year ago (anything over 104 is severe ), and today it's 35.    And that means on his 2 year anniversary of diagnosis, he could easily be recovered.  

Well, not easily.  It's a crapload of work.  The research hours, the food, the supplementation, the therapy and the attitude take a toooooon of work. 

But a medically healthy boy at the finish line?  I would do it for my whole life if I had to. 

And I am discovering, meanwhile, that I have a crazy powerful mind.  The more often I am in my attitudinal best zone, the cooler my life becomes.  Parking spaces open up for me. A card comes on the mail or a beautiful message from a dear friend is posted in my Facebook wall.  My favorite song comes on the radio.  Children obey. God, the universe, call it what you want, it's all the same, delivers gifts to those whose eyes and hearts are open to receiving them. It's a really cool place too be. And it's what I strive to be in daily. 

I am back on the diet and exercise regimen I was on before autism came.  It's so easy compared to the first time.  I know where I am headed and what it takes to get there.  

All from an autism diagnosis, one year ago this week.