Voodoo Magic Sugar Pills

For those of you who joined the party late, let me reintroduce myself and explain who I am and how the hell I got here.

You may be asking yourself, “Why is her nickname Poppy?”

Let me clarify.

No, it’s not my favorite bagel.  It’s not a reference to heroin or any opiate use.  It’s not a testament to my musical taste (at ALL)!  It’s not a descriptor of my shining, bubbly personality.

Poppy came to be the day I encountered all of these Thinking Moms and the kick-ass Dad.   A few weeks before, I had my first appointment with a homeopath for Big Son and was days away from another appointment for Small Son.  Homeopathy was (and still is) a mind-blowing concept to me.  You see, I come from a long line of devotees to The Church Of Allopathic Medicine.  LISTEN TO THE DOCTORS!  TAKE YOUR MEDICINE! DID YOU CALL THE DOCTOR?!?  It’s that blind faith in the medical establishment that got me in the boat we’re in.  Autism has taught me to think outside that boat.

I was doing biomedical interventions with my kids along with a schedule of therapies that clocked part-time employment status.  I was seeing some changes, but felt stagnant. And exhausted.   I wanted to explore other avenues.   Some of my friends on Facebook were using homeopathy with their kids and seeing real improvements, in their kids as well as themselves.

“Homeopathy?   That’s a load of crap!  Voodoo stuff!   Like twigs, and herbs, and tree bark right?  Oh, you mean those sugar pills?  They don’t work!”  I heard all sorts of things from people that were completely off-base, but I was also hearing some INCREDIBLE things.

I was open to giving it a whirl, so I called a homeopath that was working with ASD kids only to find I would be added to a very long wait list. Nine months, actually.  I added our names to the list, did some light research, ordered a few books and put it on the back burner for down the road.   We continued on our protocol of diet, supplements, and I consumed massive amounts of caffeine to pull it off.

It was a rushed, chaotic school morning in March 2011.  The boys were particularly… ummm… INTENSE, to put it lightly.  The car trip to school consisted of the three of us sobbing all before 7:45 AM.  Not a good way to start a day.   There were many of these mornings lately.   We were stuck in a rut, and things were getting worse due to the yeast overgrowth that was riddling their bodies.  I drove home and said to myself, “Something has to change.”

I got home and pulled a book from the shelf.  “The Impossible Cure” by Amy Lansky, PhD.  She recovered her son from Autism using homeopathy.  One of those books I ordered months back and put away to read another day.  Well, today was that day.  When I started reading the first chapter I was blown away!  It wasn’t voodoo witchcraft.  It wasn’t just sugar pills or some kind of snake oil.

Homeopathy is respected and used across the globe in countries likeEngland, Germany, India, and Brazil.  It was used during WW I by the US Army. A statue of Samuel Hahnemann, father of homeopathy, was erected by President McKinley in 1900 and he selected the site personally so it could be seen from the White House.  It is one of only a few monuments in DC that isn’t a military or political figure.  Pretty impressive for a Voodoo Magic Sugar Pill Pusher, eh?

Just then, the phone rang.  It was the homeopath’s office.  Another practitioner had come on board and was taking clients.  I jumped at the chance for the earliest appointments I could get.  It felt like the Universe was doing its thing, so I went with it.  I was so excited to see what came next.  I had my first consultation and after three hours, I had my first remedy for Big Son and my introduction to homeopathic medicine.

Ready for this??  Opium.

I signed off from my Skype session and instantly  Googled “homeopathic opium autism”.  A description of a person suited for this particular remedy popped up.  As I read it, I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me.  It was my Boy to a T.  I was so dumbfounded after reading it, I simply closed the laptop and walked away.

Relax, people.  No need to call CPS.   I wasn’t giving my son Opium, the drug.  It is a homeopathic preparation, diluted down so much that the energy of the material remains.  I know, it’s a hard one to wrap your head around, but bear with me.  During my labor with Big Son, I was given not one, but two doses of Stadol for pain.  An opiate.  Homeopathy operates on a basic principle of The Law of Similars.  Like heals like.

My head was spinning.  My Autism Sista and fellow Thinking Mom Blaze reached out to me and asked if I wanted to join a group they had.  They were all using homeopathy along with other interventions and could offer me some guidance.  I gladly accepted, needing all the help I could get.

From the moment I entered this group, I knew it wasn’t like any other I was part of.  I introduced myself and told them our first remedy.  I was embraced and given the nickname Poppy, in honor of my introduction to homeopathic remedies.  They helped with homeopathy and answered my questions, but it was so much more.  They became my support.  My laugh when I needed it.  My shoulder to cry on.  My soundboard when I needed to rant.  These women (and one kick ass Dad) became my family.  I talk with this crew every day.  I would be lost without them.  It was there that TMR was born.  I am eternally honored to be a part of such an incredible group of people.  Smart, caring, tenacious — and really freaking funny!

Homeopathy has brought us gains, more so for Small Son than Big Son.  Then again, Big Son is my “Tough Nut”.  It gave my little guy potty training at age 5.  I will sing its praises on that fact alone!  In addition to the gains, homeopathy brought me to this group.

The Universe really was doing its thing that day.  I stand by my Voodoo Magic Sugar Pills any day of the week.

~ Poppy

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