My Story: plant based living and a healthy home

It all really started in 2004 when my third child Jack was born. I didn’t know then what a roller coaster ride I was about to begin. I guess that’s a good thing, ignorance is bliss, so they say. Jack was about to change me not only as a mother but as a person. The way I looked at people, how I dealt with health issues, the food I ate, and the general thoughts I had, would all be shaped by one little boy born on October 7, 2004.

It was about 16 months into Jack’s life, a few days after his general vaccines and checkup, that Jack would have what we would later label as a seizure. The following weeks were filled with him becoming sick and several other small episodes. Slowly Jack’s behavior began to change; he became withdrawn and was losing language daily. It would be a bumpy few months, filled with pediatricians, neurologists, ENTs, and lots of frustrations. Our once healthy baby boy was now always dealing with explosive diarrhea, episodes of shaking, loss of appetite, fits of crying, and an obsession with strange things. His favorite item was a box that contained alphabet cards. He would open it, lay them all out, and systematically place them back in the box one by one. He did this over and over with great care to detail. Things like watching the hinge on the door swing open and close would replace his love of toys and his siblings.

He was slipping away into a different closed off-world, a world only he understood, a world I desperately wanted to be a part of.

We noticed as he lost more and more words, his frustration with communication was growing. Jack would find any sharp corner or wall and just ram his head into it. All these behaviors had us worried and embarrassed. I remembered going to my pediatrician and hearing her say, “Some boys are just violent, some boys bang their head for attention, some boys start talking later, you should discipline him more.” My frustration with the world around me was growing, and I became more withdrawn at home. I had two other very young children, a husband who was busy working, and my parents lived hours away. Couldn’t people see there was something wrong with my son, I wanted help! I would turn to anything and everything to find a solution, some answers, someone to listen to me. I attended seminars, read every book I could find, and asked around about other children’s behavior. All the while I kept my secret, embarrassed, and ashamed that there was something wrong with my son, and somehow, it was my fault.

I remember going to a parent meeting at my daughter’s Montessori school and hearing a woman speaking about her son, who frequently hit his head. Apparently, he needed tubes in his ears, and when he had the procedure, he was 100% better. This was it, my problem was solved, Jack needed to see an ENT. We went for an appointment immediately, and they said he should have his adenoids and tonsils taken out. At 21 months he was a bit young for this procedure, but this was to be done immediately, this would solve all our problems. It turns out it solved nothing. Jack’s behavior didn’t change at all, and as the weeks and months passed, his peculiar habits and needs grew worse and worse. Only now he was missing his adenoids and tonsils.

By this point, we were working with early intervention and a fantastic speech pathologist. We also had an occupational therapist, a physical therapist, and a behavioral specialist. People kept saying phrases like “he makes good eye contact, so that’s good, he is smart and obviously bright.” I heard a medical diagnosis over and over by the people who came through our home each day. I thought to myself, he doesn’t need a medical doctor, they said he was fine, he will outgrow it, some boys are like this, it’s the last thing I need. I didn’t realize then, that a medical diagnosis was code for a diagnosis with a developmental pediatrician. They all knew what the real label was, but no one would say the words.

Your son has autism!

This one phrase would take us on a long and crazy journey to good health. We would cry and mourn the loss of what we thought our child’s future would hold, we would move to a new state, we would remove all toxins from our home and lifestyle, we would spend every penny we owned on doctors, our entire eating habits would be altered, preschool would be replaced with years of full-time therapy, and in the end, our son would defy all odds and be recovered!

What we were told could never be, would happen. We would make our own reality with diet, ABA therapy, and a lot of luck.

My new mantra, taken directly from Hippocrates, “Let food be thy medicine,” would shape how I cooked and lived. Never doubt your instinct as a mother, never doubt that food matters, and never give up hope!

This blog is a way for me to share my story as a mom, the food we cook for optimal health, and the fun we have as a family. My dream is that this brings hope to a momma who needs it, just like others did for me when Jack was little.

OX

Annette