An Open Letter to Mothers Who Don't Vaccinate

Dear Moms who do not vaccinate your children,

You and I have more in common than you might think. My children are my sun and moon. I know you love your children extravagantly too.  Like me, I believe you would go to any extreme if it could ensure your child a long and safe life. I feel the exact same. Yet on the issue of vaccines, we differ.

I would vaccinate my children if I could. My daughter Grace is currently unvaccinated because I am not given the choice. Grace was diagnosed with a rare form of Leukemia a few weeks after her fourth birthday. It was the day time stood still for my family and me. Because of her cancer she is the most susceptible to catching diseases, the most likely to die from them, yet she is not allowed to have vaccines to prevent them. The irony of the situation is not lost on me. 

Before cancer became a member of our family I was on the fence about vaccines. I have never seen a case of polio or measles but I have seen plenty of children with autism. I was hesitant to trust “traditional medicine” but I was very comfortable using herbal and homeopathic remedies. I even grew our own organic vegetables. It just seemed the claims against vaccines were so accusatory, so loud, so confident. Everyone had an opinion. I didn't know who to trust.

When cancer hit we researched every kind of treatment for Grace. My husband and I decided we would use whatever worked, traditional or alternative, as long as it had documented proof of working consistently. Grace had a 20% chance of survival and we were willing to do whatever it took to get her a cure. We researched herbal remedies, including marijuana. We researched juicing, vitamins, raw foods, cooked foods, essential oils, you name it…no one could prove they consistently cured children of cancer. But chemotherapy did. Dreaded chemotherapy, the treatment we both hate and love, became our answer. It would bring Grace’s survival rate up to 80%. That was the day we decided to start trusting traditional medicine.

But it wasn't just medicine I didn't trust. I thought doctors were “in it for the money” and that they skewed research results in order to get funding from pharmaceutical companies. Now we had to trust doctors for the life of our daughter. Because of cancer we got to know our medical team very intimately. We spent over one hundred days living at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles (not to mention the days we spent there for outpatient treatment). I can’t speak for all doctors, but the doctors and nurses who work at children’s hospitals are there for the kids. Nothing else. They work tirelessly with cranky kids, exhausted parents, and with dying children that the doctors know they shouldn't get emotionally attached to, but they do anyways. Because they love kids.

And after they finished taking care of my daughter for the day, they went home and took care of their own children. They went from being our medical team to family. I found that everything that was said about them was wrong. I discovered that doctors recommend certain medicines for a reason. It’s because they want children to have the best chance at survival and to have healthy and happy lives. They don’t have a hidden agenda. They don’t rely on wishful thinking or hopeful remedies. They use what works. I wouldn't trust doctors to save my life. I trust them even more than that. I daily trust them to save my daughter’s life.

I wouldn't wish what we've gone through on my worst enemy. We saw our daughter too sick to eat, too weak to play, too tired to smile. We spent sleepless nights wondering if we would hear our beautiful daughter’s laugh in the morning. There is no pain like seeing your child suffer while fighting for their life.

Actually…there is one pain worse, and that’s only the anguish of finding out that you could have prevented it. I know I did everything to prevent my daughter from getting cancer and cancer still found her.  I would give anything to have my daughter vaccinated today. I would do anything to spare her from disease.

There are vaccines for your child. You can protect them from having to fight for their lives against life threatening diseases. These diseases are monsters. They steal life from even the bravest and strongest of children.  Please don’t risk your child’s life. You can do what I can’t. You can vaccinate and save your child from suffering or even death.

From one mom to another, if you have the chance to save your child from a life threatening disease, please, please, from the bottom of my heart, please…vaccinate your child.

Very sincerely,

Melissa Bumstead, aka Gracie’s Mommy

Read more about Gracie here: www.TeamGraceEllen.com

Death and Dying

"I'm scared of my toy dying," Grace said the other day while playing with a doll, "just like you were scared of me dying."

That pretty much felt like a punch in the stomach. In times like this I do the S.O.S. prayer. I don't have more time than to pray "save my ship" and get into solving the problem. Thankfully we've been over this topic a few times before, though none so direct. Thankfully God always hears this prayer and gives wisdom "generously to all without finding fault..." James 1:15

I don't want Gracie to be afraid of dying. Death is the reality for all of us and if it comes to Gracie tomorrow or in one-hundred years, I want her to be ready for it. We've let her know that some kids aren't able to beat their cancer. She knows that some kids will die, and have died, from cancer.

It's not to scare her. But I've heard of stories where cancer kids went from sick to actually dying in a sometimes short time. It's not common, but when an infection hits, these kids are literally fighting for their lives. Even the bravest and the strongest may not win their battle. God forbid Grace would die from an infection rapidly taking over her body, but if it did, I wouldn't want the concept of dying be something that we only had an hour to introduce, especially if I were to be near hysterics. Not that we wouldn't encourage her to fight her infection...

Also, I believe that kids are smarter than they let on. They can tell if we're hiding a concept. They also know that if we hide it, then it must be very scary indeed. If death becomes the unmentionable fear, then everyday life would be terrifying once the dots are connected from cancer to death. She would figure it out sooner or later. We didn't want that for Grace.

So I took a deep breath.

"We all die Gracie. Everyone. There were a few times I was worried that you might die," I said, "but I wasn't too scared," I said truthfully.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why? But because of Jesus we have a place called heaven where we won't die anymore. And there's no cancer or pain there. And I know that if you died that Jesus would take care of you and love you. We would be together again there."

In the past Grace has wondered if her toys would be there. I told her they would be. I figure heaven is a place where all our needs are met, so toys would be appropriate. She's also glad to know our two cats Dash and Alex will be there. Heaven isn't a vague, scary, unknown. It's a place very similar to home.

Since that day none of Grace's other toys have died. They go to the hospital often, but they're always healed once Dr. Grace tends to them. And I'm so thankful she's not afraid of dying because only then can you really enjoy living.

I wrote this about death the other day. It's a little wordy, but here it goes:

The process of leaving our mother's wombs is a frightening and painful experience. The transition is abrupt and unexpected. It is a process that leaves us cold, vulnerable, and weak. Yet our pain and effort is small compared to the labor of our mothers who did for us what we could never do for ourselves.

If we had the capacity to remember that day I think we would be deeply traumatized. We would be terrified that perhaps we would be suddenly expelled from this world into another unknown life. And of course, the fear of death is exactly that.

As I daily walk towards that time that I should die I will remember that it is natural that death should be similar to birth. Death is also a relatively short, often painful transition that brings us to life. Eternal life, that is. Yet our suffering and effort is small compared to the painful labors of our Savior Jesus. He did for us what we could never do for ourselves.

When we die and are birthed into heaven, I don't think we will be grieved by the experience. I don't think we'll have any residual trauma. It is likely we will even celebrate that day as our true birthday. For that will be the day we came into the fullness of life.

"Just as Jesus was raised as the first of the harvest, then all who belong to Christ will be raised when he comes back." 1 Cor 15:23

Grace Learns Dinner Manners

The other night at dinner started fantastic. Grace sat with her face scrunched, her eyebrows as deep down as they could go, and in her scariest voice told us stories about a haunted house. Then three-year old Luke would chime in and say "scary shadows," while mimicking Grace's scary face. It was hilarious. 

After her story she decided to not only drink milk from her cup, but to also practice her balancing abilities while at it. She only used her mouth to hold her cup, not unlike a seal trying to balance a ball on it's nose, and it was about as messy. She was told that her drinking method was unacceptable. As she is an alpha female in a five-year old body, she decided it was as good a point as any to stand her ground. She was asked to leave the table but refused, instead she grabbed onto her chair like it was a life preserver on the Titanic. 

"Uh-oh," I said, using our key word for, "This is about to be a problem...for you." She didn't budge. "You can walk to your room," I said, "or I'll be happy to carry you." She was still holding her chair. When I picked her up to carry her she grabbed onto the table cloth, spilling all of our dinner onto the ground.

My husband Chad and I wanted to find a consequence that would teach, rather than just punish, but we didn't have any idea what that might be. So we did what most good parents do. We googled it. Thankfully "Love and Logic" had just the right solution. An "energy drain." An energy drain is whenever a kid zaps your energy with their bad behavior and they are then responsible for helping you get it back. It's always at a personal but a fair cost. And always with empathy and kindness when the verdict is delivered.

Because Grace made our dinner so unpleasant, we decided that we would need a grown-up dinner at a nice restaurant without kids to get our energy back, and that Grace would pay the baby sitter. Luckily, her babysitter accepts toys and allowance as payment (we paid her in cash afterwards).

When Grace was allowed out of time-out we told her the consequence, and that she would need to pick out a toy to pay the babysitter with. We were expecting a major meltdown at the news. But as always, Grace completely surprised us. She picked out her newest and most favoritest Elsa doll that she had just spent the last ten weeks saving up for. We explained several times that it didn't have to be that doll but she felt strongly that it did. She even went as far as to gift wrap it and colored a card to go with it. 

She wasn't upset at all, in fact we suspected that she was secretly feeling really good about it. (She mentioned the next morning that we were mean for making her get rid of her doll, but I told her that most parents would just yell or spank. After that she didn't complain again.) Chad and I think that kids have a more intense sense of "fair" than we do, and when they know that they are making it right again, they feel good about it. Grace is young but smart and she knew she really blew it that night. We think she was happy to have a way to put things right.

The next night Grace decided to test her limits with extremely bad manners again. 

"I'm so happy," I said to her complete astonishment. "I really had a great time with your dad last night at our dinner. Will you be paying for another babysitter tonight?" 

The bad manners totally stopped. Instantly. The best part was that I didn't have to yell or even get mad. In fact I was a little disappointed she cleaned up her act so quickly. I was secretly hoping for another night out. It turned out our family dinner was nearly just as nice at home that night, even though I had to clean my own dishes afterwards. And Grace learned that if she makes a mistake can feel good about herself when she makes it right again.

(Thanks Love and Logic for sharing this on your Facebook Page!)

Accidental Bullying

I thought I was in a safe place to share. It was a  Facebook group set up for local moms to buy, sell, and trade kid and maternity items. There were about a thousand moms in the group and there was a constant flow of great kid stuff for sale at next-to-nothing prices…every mom’s dream come true.

I had decided to list my offensively-expensive-when-new, gently-used maternity support belt. For those of you unfamiliar with such an item, imagine a cross between a chastity belt, a thong big enough for grandpa, and an industrial grade construction belt with lace. It’s used outside the underwear and was very clean, as I clearly stated in the posting. It had been my salvation during my painful pregnancy and I still have very sentimental feelings towards it for that reason.

I knew there would be comments. In fact, I was secretly looking forward to anything that would be clever. But I was surprised at what happened instead.

 “She’s a bully and I won’t stand for it.” That was my mom calling to inform me that a lady from the group had copied and reposted my photo on the group page without my description, but left her own comment instead, “This is gross.”

“No, mom,” I said, “I’m sure she’s just trying to be funny. She’s just one person and I’m not deleting the post. I really want to sell it. It was really expensive.” But I should have known. Mother is always right.

The comments came in fast. They started as snarky remarks. “This is disgusting,” and “What is that??!!?” The comments really didn’t bother me, I have a pretty thick skin and a good sense of humor. “LMBO is all I can say,” and yes, I did have to google to find out what LMBO meant. “Someone identify this before we snicker ourselves sick,” wrote another woman.  In less than two minutes I had over a dozen comments, and they kept coming, and coming fast.

When the comments started to pile up I started to feel anxious about the whole thing, which surprised me. I started to wonder how many comments I would get and if they would last on my permanent online record. I was hoping to get a laugh, but instead I flashed back to when I was as the girl wearing braces and a handmade kitty sweater in an age of neon socks and Hypercolor shirts. The funny, snarky comments had accidentally crossed over to cyber bullying without anyone really realizing it. If you don’t believe me, then let me explain.

Those women didn't have to say anything necessarily piercing. It became bullying when they made those comments in front of a large group of my peers. But somehow people have forgotten that when online.

If I had walked into a restaurant and if twenty women started to make fun of my dress, it would suck to be me. It wouldn't have been nice, but it wouldn't have been bullying necessarily either. Now imagine instead that those same women were standing on a platform with a megaphone in front of nine-hundred and eighty-five other moms when they berated me. And all one-thousand of those moms shopped at my Target and dropped their kids off at my kid’s school and played at my park. And all one thousand of those moms knew that I was the "gross" mom posting a "gross" maternity belt. It changed into bullying because it was done online. 

After ten minutes of comments one lady posted in my defense that it was a maternity belt and I thanked her on the thread because I had started to feel “ganged up on.” All of the sudden the comments turned more personal. “You can’t say this was ganging up,” and “don’t be so dramatic about it.” "You’ll need to leave the group if you can’t stop causing problems," and "we can report you to the administrator and have you kicked out." But I loved the cheap-awesome -kid-stuff group. I really didn’t want to be forced out. I did some research and was able to delete my post before things got worse.

Things had gone from snarky comments to nearly being kicked out of a group that I liked. In fifteen minutes. For posting a maternity belt. I don't think any of those mommies meant to bully. I think they'd still think my stance is overly dramatic and that real bullying is when a bigger kid holds your head in the toilet during recess. But today's rules about bullying are changing. I think that we all forget that the online world is changing too. The world-wide-web actually has made our world smaller and more personal. People can't hide behind anonymous Myspace avatars anymore. They can't make comments without consequences anymore.

As it was, I was able to donate my overpriced maternity belt to a single mom's group. Hopefully it was more appreciated there. I'm thinking that you just have to have insanely painful Vulva Vericose Veins and crippling pelvic pressure to appreciate the relief of a maternity belt at a second hand cost.

Wait, did I just write the word Vulva? Yes, yes I did. And watch the snarky comments in 3...2...1...go.