From: DarkDivah (RaziCichlid)

Date: 1/2/08

Okay we are going to have a little conversation, I talk, well because I am the one who owns the blog and you listen because you are the ones reading the blog and at anytime if there is anything here that offends you or that you don’t want to hear, read, see or know about there is a little red X at the top right corner of the window that will solve your problem. Got it? Good.

I can not believe the sheer ignorance of some people. I can not believe that rather than heed a warning, no matter how remote a possibility, that the warning would be scoffed at and that the free thinking ( oh wait I could be wrong there) masses would attempt to quash or otherwise invalidate because it doesn’t match their perfect Pollyanna perfect mother to the free world images of themselves.
Since I am all for calling spades, spades, here it is in black and white;


I have been through infancy, toddlerhood, puberty, growth spurts, growing pains, first loves, loves lost, good times, bad times and all the times in between.

Good on ya that you TRIED to say that I intentionally chose not to feed my toddler… which was not the case…he chose not to eat, I chose to instead give him fluids but fluids weren’t enough. It’s truly sad that some people with their superiority complexes have such an incessant need to be right that they would try to convince me that I’m wrong even though I have 18 year old evidentiary, living, breathing proof that I am right living under my roof.

See, back then I was like you. I was ignorant and uneducated and I believed my mother and my child’s doctor and I had seen other children fair just fine and there was no reason to believe that mine was any different, but he was, and I found out the hard way, and every single time I allow myself to think of it, I get transported back in time to a time and place that if I had done one thing differently he wouldn’t have had to suffer in the manner that he has for his whole life since July 1991.

I had to sit in an ambulance while my lifeless son was transported to hospital. I also had to endure hours of grilling at the hands of hospital officials and child protective agencies and all the while I could not see my dying son, I wasn’t allowed to be at his side, I wasn’t allowed to kiss him and tell him I loved him. Instead I was questioned, and interrogated and questioned some more. Did I shake him? Did I slap him? Did I or my DH get angry with him for perhaps waking too early? Each question, a stake in my heart; each question as to where MY child was gone unanswered; You see, THEY have the right to do that to you and you have NO right to demand to see your dying child until THEY are satisfied that you did not harm him in anyway.  THAT….Oh THAT is what I am trying to convey so that no other mother EVER has to experience it in her lifetime.

And so finally you convince them and they free you from the little tiny stagnant office that smells of old coffee and sweat that they have been holding you in and you race through the emergency room to find your baby only no one can tell you where he is and when they finally track him down you can’t see him because the doctors are busy. All they can tell you is that he is critical, but breathing and you have to hold onto whatever slice of hope you have left and you have no idea where you are getting the energy to even stay standing when all you want to do is fall on the floor screaming, but you find your strength and you stand outside the doors and peek in through the window when you get the chance and you see them shoving a tube down your baby’s throat to keep him breathing and you whisper silent prayers to God(s) your aren’t even sure exist anymore because if they did they certainly wouldn’t have done this to your baby, but they have and it’s real and you aren’t going to wake up from it because it isn’t a bad dream.

They stabilize him and move him to intensive care and you want to see him but you have to wait another hour or so because they aren’t ready and so you use the time to explain to your husband what he is about to see and warn him that he CAN NOT melt down while in there because there are children in there who are awake and can hear you and see you and you can not upset them no matter how much your heart is breaking. You prepare him for tubes, and machines and alarms and you can do this because only 3 years before this you were there with your first born from another bio-dad as he suffered from meningococcal meningitis.

You escort your husband in, you wash your hands, you place on a gown, you move slowly as if inside a tunnel , everything on the edges fuzzy and your destination seeming a million miles away and with every step you take you don’t seem to move any closer, but somehow find yourself there and see your baby lying on a bed, arms strapped down to stop them from flailing, the flailing the tonic state of a grand mal seizure, intibated, IV’s everywhere, and the constant beep, beep, beep from his heart monitor echoing in your head as you cry silently so as not to upset the children who are there and awake and making a recovery from whatever it was that brought them to this place and your whole soul is begging for a do over, today was not supposed to be like this, just yesterday he was happy, he was playing, he was splashing in the community wading pool as his Nana followed closely behind him.

He didn’t want to eat, every offering thrown on the floor, but he was happy to drink, and so you stop trying to get SOLIDS into him and go with fluids, but those fluids don’t sustain enough carbohydrate to get him through the night, but you don’t know it because he’s a normal happy toddler who is having a fussy period.

One skipped meal won’t hurt him… he’ll eat when he’s hungry…

Go ahead…NOW call me a whack!

99% of the time, you won’t know until it’s too late. Are you so confident in your advice that you are willing to look a grieving mother in the eye and say…

 “I’m sorry you lost your child but, I was so god damned busy being SURE and proving that I was right because everyone does it that your child didn't even come into the mix.”

That is why I think that the advice given was/is foolish and archaic and why I asked people to rethink giving off the cuff old wives tale as truth “facts” when you really don’t know shit about shit.

If I can save one life or one mother’s heartache then I will preach about it until eyes and ears bleed. Unless you were there, you don’t know and on the off chance that someone reading this was there, it’s oh so important to know you are not alone.  Profile email works BTW and FTR.

**off soapbox**


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