Wednesday, February 6th, 2013
I have such a breakthrough to report. I wrote about Fia’s chronic cough a couple months ago. This is a cough that lasted for 5-6 months and nothing was working. I was at my wit’s end and annoyed at my pediatricians for chalking it up to a “thing” that toddlers get with various cold cycles. “But she hasn’t had a cold!” I’d say with exasperation. “Well, you know, the mucus can irritate her throat and the cough is the last thing to go. “But she has no mucus!” I’d say, pleading with them to hear me. I asked for them to send her for an X-rays or something. They thought it was unnecessary because her lungs sounded fine. I went in multiple times to make my case.
Finally after my sitter and her teachers at school started to say how much the cough was wearing her down, I took matters into my own hands. I got all the paperwork together to get her into a pediatric pulmonary specialist at Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles.
While I was awaiting approval for an appointment, a miracle happened. I was at a little Xmas gathering with Fia and there was another mom there. Fia started coughing. Of course. I told the mom how exasperated I was by her cough; how I was pulling my hair out over it. She said, “You need to put Vick’s Vapor Rub on her feet.”
What? Huh? It sounded like a piece of voodoo to me. I must have looked skeptical. So she continued.
“I have five kids. Every one of them has had a chronic cough. I kid you not. Put the Baby Vicks on her feet at night. Rub it in and make friction to get her feet warm with it. Then put some on her chest and put a warm towel (not damp) on for 30 seconds. Repeat a few times. Then put her to bed. I promise you, it will work.”
I agreed to try it, but felt like rolling my eyes.
That night I didn’t do it. I mean, what was the point?
Then, I happened to tell one of my girlfriends about this mom’s suggestion. My friend got really excited. “Oh my gosh! Someone else told me about that! It’s totally supposed to work. People swear by it.”
So now my curiosity was piqued. I Googled it and sure enough there are claims all over the internet about the magic of curing a chronic cough by putting Vicks on your feet.
That night I did as instructed with the Vicks. I kid you not: for the first time in 6 months straight, Fia didn’t cough once. I was simply dumbfounded. I did it a second night and at nap times. No cough. I stopped doing it on the chest and only put it on her feet. Still no cough.
I did this for about a week. Then I stopped entirely. That was early January. There have been a few nights where I hear her hacking and if it gets bad, I go in and put the Vicks on her feet. But those nights are few and far between. Other than that, there has been no cough. I repeat: No Cough.
Children’s Hospital called to make an appointment. I told them that for the moment, the problem has subsided.
I honestly can’t believe how something on your feet could cure a cough, but it does and it did. Apparently it works on adults too. I looked it up on Snopes.com–the site that debunks urban legends. Their verdict is “undetermined.” You can check it out if you want to see their report.
Needless to say, I am thrilled, but am still so surprised by the results. Has anyone else heard of this? Any theories to why it works on the feet?
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Tuesday, July 24th, 2012
I’ve said it before: I need better coping skills. I am almost embarrassed to reveal the absurdity of my latest freak-out. But here goes:
We went on a last minute, mini-vacation to Sequoia State Park a couple weeks ago. We had a great time. As we were heading home, we stopped at this cute playground for Fia to run before sitting in the cramped car (this time we took the direct route versus our disastrous, vomit-induced one).
Phil was playing with Fia while I breastfed Emmett. I walked over and Phil says, “Do you think she’s running funny?”
I gasped. “What? What do you mean?”
“Don’t freak out,” he said through terse lips. “Jesus, can I not even have a conversation with you?”
Clearly, my anxiety has been an issue before.
I took a breath, “You’re right, I’m sorry. Let me watch her run.”
She starts to run and her legs start hobbling. She keeps falling down. They looked like rubber. So guess what I do? I FREAK THE F–K OUT.
“Oh my god, Phil, Phil,” I pleaded. “Oh my god. What is going on?”
He looked at me concerned, because he was obviously concerned too. But I could tell he was also worried about me. Or sick of me. He has said time and again to get a grip. He says I can’t react with such panic–for all of our sakes. I know he’s right.
Trembling, I got down on her level and took her shoes off. I seemed to remember thinking last week the sneakers were getting tight. She took off barefoot. Her gait was perfect.
In the 10 seconds it took to figure this out, here’s where my head went:
On our mini-vaco. These are not the shoes in question, btw.
She has a neurological disorder. A virus. It is fast progressing and eating away at her nerves. We have to rush to LA to Children’s Hospital. Something life-threatening is wrong with my daughter. If anything happens to her I will not survive. I love her too much.
Basically I had an internal panic attack. I say internal, because I did manage to hold it together in front of Fia, mostly because I was so afraid Phil would forever hate me. And of course, I don’t want to scare my kid. I know all too well from my upbringing what it’s like to have a weak, hand-wringing (then drunk, devoid of coping skills) parent. It’s probably where all this anxiety comes from.
But seriously, in less than a millisecond, my mind goes to the worst possible place. Is that a mom thing or a sign of deep neurosis? My friend Kirsten wrote a beautiful piece I posted on the art of letting go. But I justify (in my warped brain) that this is different–this is about tragedy befalling my children.
Phil was really pissed off. And I don’t blame him. What I kept telling him was I don’t like feeling this way either. My visceral reaction truly scares me. It’s like my wires explode in my body and code red starts to ring. Then, because my body has basically been in fight-or-flight mode, it doesn’t just dissipate. It lingers. And on this day, it sat in the car for our 3-hour drive home, casting a pall on the once-boisterous mood.
If the scenario hadn’t filled me with such anxiety and dread, it would have been comical, ie: bad parenting moment: Our little girl has outgrown her shoes and mama freaked.
I spoke at length to Peter, my hypnotherapist. We did some really deep work in trying to get my brain to stop this pattern. Old habits die hard. It will take work on my part. But I have no choice.
This sh-t has got to stop.
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anxiety, Children's Hospital, depression, emotions, feet, gait, hand-wringing, mom freakout, nerves, nervous, neurological, panic, panic attack, running, running funny, Sequoia State Park, shoes | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Mom Situations
Friday, June 15th, 2012
My little guy. What can I say. I gush. I swoon. I am madly in love. We always say to them, “My two kids.” Fia now says, “Mommy, hold you. Your two kids.” I swoop them into my arms.
Through tears, I wrote this week about how fast they grow up. Through frustration, I wrote about how little time I feel I have. Both are issues I think most of you can relate to. Some days are better than others. There is no solution other than to try and be in the moment as much–and as best–as you can.
I noticed Emmett’s feet the other day. The bottoms of them have little X’s. He also has a crease on his big toes. I wonder what a palm reader would say? Maybe he’s destined for greatness? Or, to just be happy. Because I swear, I don’t know how The Divine did it, but the universe gave me the world’s most perfect baby boy. Happy, lively, full of spirit. I love to suck on his toes. He likes to suck on my chin. He is delicious. So today is all about Em.
Look at that Tooshie!
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baby, baby feet, creases in feet, Emmett, feet, fia friday, independence, infant, newborn, time, two kids | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Fia Friday