Monday, March 25, 2013

Breastfeeding - The Natural Immune Booster


I am learning about the blood and types of antibodies at the moment. I find it very interesting that my textbook inserts this deceptive and leading information:

"Delivery eliminates the maternal supply of IgG. Although the mother provides IgA antibodies in breast milk, the infant gradually loses its passive immunity. The amount of maternal IgG in the infant's bloodstream declines rapidly over the first two months after birth. During this period, the infant becomes vulnerable to infection by bacteria or viruses that were previously overcome by maternal antibodies. The infant's immune system begins to respond to infections, environmental antigens, and vaccinations. As a result, the infant begins producing its own IgG.”
This combination of truth and twisted dogma makes me ANGRY!
 Not only does the mother’s breastmilk provide IgA, it also provides the other 4 types of antibodies:  IgG, IgE, IgD, and IgM. Formula provides NONE of these antibodies. Every antigen (allergen) that the mother comes into contact with the baby will get. Assuming that the baby is with the mother most of the time, the baby will receive antibodies to any allergen in its environment. (And my little side conjecture is that should a child be lucky enough to receive breastmilk from more than one woman, such as when two partnered women have a child together, the baby will receive antibodies from everywhere that two women go – double the antigen exposure, therefore double the naturally acquired immunity for the baby!)
Not to mention how many molecules and proteins in the mother’s milk help reduce pathogenic bacteria in the baby’s gut, and contains good bacteria.
Interestingly Iron fortified formulas are on the market. Why is this? Don’t the makers of formula know that many pathogenic bacteria thrive on iron? And coincidentally, breastmilk contains proteins called lactoferrin that bind iron, removing it from the babies‘ body, reducing the spread of organisms that can cause an infant serious illness. One example of this is Staphylococcus Aureus.
The fact that my textbook skips over the information about these helpful functions of breastmilk, and even includes vaccinations as part of the “reason” that infants begin building there immune system is ludicrous. Vaccinations are NOT part of an infant’s development. They are moneymakers that are NOT in a child’s best interest.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

recent FB post... healthy living


the youngest's packed lunch this morning.. a generous dose of natural peanut butter on wheat bread sandwich, bag of baby carrots with ranch dressing, bag of sunflower seeds and nuts, sliced apples with a sprinkle of cinnamon and sugar, and a can of Zevia 'Root Beer'. He tells me when he sees it that they aren't allowed to have pop at school. I told him to show his teacher the can and it'll be ok. He has been doing much better at controlling his impulsiveness while substituting simple sugars with healthy foods, and loves his new 'chocolate popsicles'! (read Avachoco brain food!) Let the healthy eating continue!

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

My Fight to be a Grown Up

Sometimes, the little wounded girl in me surfaces, haunts me, and stunts my adult emotional growth. The past few weeks have been like that. Last night my girlfriend and my son gave me a little wakeup call. I have been going through a process of recognizing the woundedness taking over me, and trying to deal with it and move past it. Last night my youngest jumpstarted that process. I realized that I baby him too much. And that I baby all my children. And that the cause is shortsighted, and only serves to stunt their growth as people. In stunting myself, I stunt them. I stunt myself out of fear of the unknown. Fear of uncertainty that I haven't been able to face because I didn't feel strong enough.
Then I realized that Strong Enough is a choice. It's not an ability, it is a practiced skill. It took tears and emotional pain to get to this point of realization, and it will take more tears and pain to continue practicing the needed skill. But I now know better. and I agree with the sentiment that "When you know better, you can do better."
I will choose to do better, to take on responsibility, to love myself, to respect myself as an adult, as a lovable person, regardless of my children's reactions to my disciplining them. They do need structure. I need structure. It's not a "new way of life". It's not a fundamentalist, "This is the RIGHT way." It's just an evolution. A continued growing into myself, choosing another path that feels right to me. I no longer believe in black and white, wrong or right thinking. Admitting that to myself hurt because it meant a loss of certainty. There is absolutely bliss in ignorance. And once that childlike ignorance is gone, it's a struggle to become ok with the lack of safety, security, and bliss.
I no longer can fit into that ignorance mold, though. It's a skin I have shed, a mold I have outgrown. And although metamorphysis is painful, I know from experience that you cannot go backwards. You can choose to stagnate, but it only causes you and everyone around you pain. So I choose to accept the growth, to take on the responsibilities I see. I can only live more fully because I have grown, and that is something to be thankful for.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012



Reminiscing....


my busted snowglobe

A Poem by Eve Latchouli
" 

the description of my feelings as i acknowledge my growth and outgrow my security

 "
I lived inside a Hallmark card
I ate my chocolate treats and drank my high priced coffee steaming,
with security.
The cold could not touch me
I was untouchable.
I moved, I reminisced, I hypothesized,
dreamed, about the outside world -
in a snowglobe.
the clear plastic invisible,
I was real to myself, anyway.

Like contractions making way,
my mind worked, roiling, boiling
marinating in my truth
at first barely noticeable, then the excitement
built as I felt the inevitability of my
life becoming my own.

and now here I sit, the process mostly through.
My beautiful Hallmark life busted
broken plastic,
little pieces of fake snow running
out in the clear river that used to be
my security, my amniotic fluid
Mixing with my tears...
my coffee gone cold.
My truth gave me birth
I am new
wet and cold
The womb spent, no longer able to sustain my growth
I am me. I am whole.
My tears coming in waves now
the torrents of grief broken
with spots of hope.
Time to clean up the mess my birth made
and move on.

I Tolled the Bell

October 17, 2012

A few years ago, I wrote a poem celebrating the feeling of togetherness that I felt in the room of my dying Aunt. She'd been surrounded by her sisters and her daughters, all gathered to be with her through her final transition.
Last night I was part of such a process. The feeling was different for me, as I have only known Mrs. B for a short while. Maybe a month. And I am not related to her by blood, although her wonderful little family considers us, her aides, family. I held Audry's hand as she made that final transition. She went from complete awareness in this physical world to just being gone. Her spirit left us. Her body drained of its color. There was no dramatic exit. She only looked Kathy in the eyes, and myself in the eyes one last time, before she looked down at her lap, and after a time, exited her body.
It has affected me so deeply, this being present at the leaving of a soul. I think that I will ask her to come to me if at all possible to let me know that she went to a good place, that she is happy there. I don't want to believe in Heaven in the sense that I was taught to believe in it, as a place reserved only for those who have "gained" entrance through either a measure of living or a special bloodstained ticket. I want to know that we only travel to another plane. Or that we just rest, like sleeping.
That's just how Mrs. B looked. Like she went to sleep with her eyes open.
I only knew Mrs. B as a wonderful woman. She always complimented me on my compassion, my understanding, my willingness to do whatever it was that she asked. I wanted her to be comfortable. I can't imagine having ALS, and feeling like I was imprisoned in my own body. First unable to move certain parts, then paralyazed up to my chest and unable to find the energy to make my vocal cords move or my lungs. Talking was more and more of a struggle, and she did her best to stay focused on doing so, although it took longer and longer. Kathy and I, and Leah and Raquel, remained so patient, allowing her to find her words in her own time. I will miss her. She was and will always remain a shining example of strength in the face of debilitation. A beacon of taking pride in yourself regardless of your circumstances. I am so blessed to have been there. To have been the only person there other than her daughter. To have been able to hold her hand and fully take part in speaking to her as she made that transition from this world. We spoke of the beauty of the fall night, the color of the sky, the crickets song. Kathy spoke of her pride of having such a wonderful life given to her by her mother and father. Of how lucky their family was to have such a proud heritage and such dedication to each other. Specifically her mom is/was her safety net. To have been there and witnessed Kathy's grace and gentleness in those moments, hours, was a testament to me of human fortitude and compassion. The strength to forgive past hurts and love the goodness in another. Her position as a daughter who had lived her life to her own drummer. So different from her mother in circumstance, yet so the same in the graciousness of living. She has her mother's grace, her calm, her gentility.
And knowing that those are only parts of their dispositions, that such gentle people are also capable of frustration to the point of anger, lashing out, makes me so glad that I have witnessed such things. I have seen the wholeness of humanity. I have seen the best and the worst, and have chosen to love it all together as a whole. You cannot value the best, unless you have witnessed the worst. You cannot see the strength, unless it is displayed in a time of weakness.
The Barton family is a story in humanity. We all have our own stories, and I am so blessed..so fortunate, so thankful to have been a part of and have borne witness to theirs.

My high dive personality and other musings

I've been having this growing period lately. It's a little like going through a time warp. I see all the past events flying past me as pictures, and I'm realizing how different I am becoming, even as I admire my new growth, and experience the sadness of losing my old form. The butterfly has always been a wonderful analogy for growth. I'm sure, even as its wings are drying, the sun shining on him, he looks back and wonders if it will be ok to be a butterfly, he was so comfortable being a caterpillar, and then a larvae...
The sadness engulfed me yesterday. Thinking of J and the kids going up to the farm for Thanksgiving, a big family tradition for so many years. I mean how much more iconicly American can you get? A family of 40 or more, gathering in a big old farmhouse that sits on 40 acres amoung the rolling hills. Even the drive there feels so nostalgic and peaceful every time, like you are going back to another time when life was more simple. Driving up and over the hills in the blackness, not knowing what'll be on the other side, or if you're headed there during the day, seeing the rolling greenery, the big rolls of hay dotting their skin.
Was that how it really was when I was there? or just how my storytelling  mind remembers it? Wasn't I more concerned with going over my plans to convert these medically minded farmers to my natural birthing theories? or to educate them in how their bodies worked to give birth? Oh Lord. I can laugh at myself now, remembering how I dragged J's cousins out in the cold entryway of the house where the fold out dinner tables and chairs had been set for the next day in rows, as if for a church social event. There may have been one curious and willing participant in those "discussions" that mostly consisted of me preaching my latest obsession to them. I preached the values of knowing what your body is doing at all times. It was relevant to us, as most of us were in the throes of early childbearing, needing to know when we were fertile and not fertile. But the part I look back on with amusement is that I was so hell bent on getting these women to do what I was doing. I wasn't cherishing the value of getting together with family once a year. I was on the warpath to convert these poor ignorant souls; to save them from the evil medical establishment that tries to pull the wool over their eyes and keep them from understanding their own bodies. Oh that is enlightening to see myself in such a way. Maybe someday I will learn to settle in to the grey of life, like J used to tell me. Or not. I mean, really, that's just who I am. At least now I can separate myself from the experience enough to realize when I am starting to climb that high dive ladder.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

I am a Nursing Student

I had this little moment of epiphany that was encouraging a minute ago. I was standing in line at Starbucks for my grande latte, and I looked around seeing that most of the people here have money, are dressed nicely, are a "certain type" of person. Then I looked down at my new dark jeans, new brown men's dress shoes, and my new 3/4 length sleeve cream sweater (all purchased on my Student Loan credit card), and thought... "I am one of these people too."
Now this is all said very well aware of where I came from and how truly shallow these things are, yet it gave me a little boost of confidence and motivation that I badly needed after narrowly escaping a D in my Anatomy Lecture Exam a little over an hour ago. I have been so frustrated with this class. It's difficulty level is very high, and I have been treating it as just an aspect of my life instead of a main focus as it requires. My focus has gotten better and better with each low C I have received over the past two or three exams. Thankfully, I've been scoring higher in my Lab Practical Exams and those grades are holding me at a solid overall grade of 79%. One point away from a B.
 I have been struggling with the fact that at 35 years old I am making $8 an hour, and trying to remedy that by spending a lot of time on networking and building a beautiful resume. I may not be focusing where I should be. I will be making $25 to $30 an hour after getting this degree. It is highly important that I EXCEL at these classes, so as to be hand picked for the first available nursing classes. Thankfully no one will see the separate exam scores only the overall class score. Thinking about that end goal of a high wage (as shallow as that may seem) is motivating me to focus harder on my classes. I have children to provide for, to motivate, to help excel. I must focus hard and do well to provide for myself and them now, and for myself in the future when they are supporting themselves.
I am not just an $8/hr home health aide. I AM A NURSING STUDENT.