My Remote Cooperation With Evil

Yesterday was Maria's one year physical. Asute readers will realize that my youngest is actually 16 months old. I kept putting off the dreaded MMR vaccine. I kept praying for a miracle.

In 1960, a rubella outbreak spread through Pennsylvania. Lots of pregnant women caught the virsus. Their unborn babies risked severe medical complications including blindness. The mother and father of WI-38, choose to abort their baby and donate his remains "to science." Scientists at Merck used a piece of the baby's lung tissue to make a vaccine which 40 years later prevent my Maria from catching rubella and passing that disease on to her unborn sibling or another innocent baby.

I really hate abortion. I know that vaccines are a remote cooperation with evil, but I hate that those poor parents are probably consoling themselves with the crime of murder by telling themselves that "at last their baby helped children." I don't sit in judgement. It absolutely sucks to get hit with the news that your baby can have a fatal disease while you are pregnant. It sucks more to bury a baby.

Because I'm a mother who hit both of those situations, I also know the truth. Only God can heal us. God's love wraps us up in those moments. His love holds a mother up during the scary conversation in the Ob office. His love holds us up at the grave site service and all the lonely nights afterwards.

The real sin of the vaccines is that they are one more of Satan's lies saying that the sin of abortion "is necessary" or "for a good end." It's the lie of my trusted Ped who says "whats the big deal? All the mothers in my son's Catholic school say it's not a big deal because it happened so long ago."

And I'm left at Maria's 9 month old doctor's appointment, holding the Vatican report on vaccines saying, "Well, it is a big deal."

It's a big deal because I want a choice. I want to be able to exercise my religious conscience AND have a kid who is protected from spreading disforming diseases to other unborn children. I want an ethical Rubella vaccine.

So, I prayed. I procrastinated. I badgered friends who have husbands in high places in relevent gov't offices.

Yesterday, I showed up 3 months late and submitted Maria to the unethical MMR vaccine.

It stunk! I actually had a empathic new doctor, (our Mother looked out for me in the Ped rotation yesterday). She is an immigrant from India and told me that she helped her kids dodge all types of vaccines. She offered to give Maria only Measels and Mumps, and let her try to catch Rubella on her own before age 16. After all my prayer and thought on this issue, that just didn't seem like a good course.

I told my doctor that I was ready to submit to the MMR, but I need to make a big record that I firmly objected to this unethical vaccine. My doctor was super kind. She tracked down the head vaccine person from Kaiser Permenente. She promised to send her own internal memo on this subject.

When the stick time came, I knelt down in the vaccination room. I prayed for the baby that died. I prayed for his parents. I prayed for forgiveness. I told the nurse right before the needle stick "I really wish I didn't have to do this. I'm against abortion and this vaccine used cells from a voluntarily aborted fetus."

The nurse said "I just heard that from the doctor. I never knew that before."

My small, small consolation in all of this is that now 2 doctors and 2 nurses know that the Merck MMR vaccine is made from cells from an actual child.

We left the doctor's office in tears, my tears and Miss Maria's tears. We're supposed to go back in 8 weeks for a chicken pox vaccine, also unethical. That's a far harder balance for me. It's harder for me to balance that chicken pox poses a public health risk to others.

Please join me in an act of sacrafice for WI-38 parents today.

Ethical Vaccines Part II

Today's vaccine visit, with the ethical vaccine schedule in hand, went smoothly. Maybe a little too smoothly. In the middle of the shot process our nurse, Cindy, started explaining that she understood because "her kids got their vaccines one at a time but she's been around enough to see the difference vaccines have made." "What?" I ask, completely confused. Is she old enough to have seen the polio epidemic? It wasn't until after I got Maria dressed that I realize she probably thought my "religious objection" had to do with the Autism/Vaccine scare. Oh well, practice makes perfect in this area.

Ethical Vaccines

Here is why I think I make a terrible advocate for ethical vaccines. I’m the girl who doesn’t have her act together as a mother. Maria is kid number three, and I have still not figured out how to comply with the recommended vaccination schedule. Hannah had to get her shots at the local health clinic, so there were all types of confusion and delay. Alex was on-time for the first year of life, but then we moved- his paperwork got lost, he got behind, etc. Maria was up to date, until I had to frantically cancel her fourth month appointment at the last minute. Since we have the “good pediatrician” in our HMO, it was impossible to reschedule until two weeks before her scheduled six-month visit. So I just figured, why bother? Took her into her six month appointment- but this novel move on my part throw off her HiB vaccine schedule, her double first flu shot—oh my!

This is just the normal, vaccination schedule. The Vatican’s 2005 requirement that I make a “moral conscience objection” to unethical vaccines is hard for me. I’m the girl who gets all fuzzy headed in the doctor’s office anyway, and that is before I had to restrain jumpy three year old in a room full of enticing, mental objects. On December 10, I swallow my pride and started the MMR discussion with my kind Arabic doctor. “I’m a Catholic and I have a religious objection to the rubella vaccine”, I bravely begin.

My kind, female doctor squints her eyes at me. “Are you sure? Because we treat a lot of Catholic here and this is the first time that I’ve ever heard of it.”

And so it goes, with me vainly trying to recall the specifics of the cell-line debate and straining to read the ethical vaccine notes in my terrible handwriting on the back of a gum wrapper. (I’m sure the slaughtering of the product names & transversing of letter names is really helping my position.)

“I’ve just never, ever heard of this. Let’s look on the computer and see.” My doctor briskly googles “MERCK” and up comes “from human lung tissue” on the computer screen. “See, no problem!” she announces.

“I’m pretty sure there is a problem. I can’t remember all the specifics, but I’m pretty sure I read something- it was official.” I fear the sudden dread that only a convert can feel- “If no other Catholics are doing it, am I wrong? Is the document from the Vatican that I’ve poured over from days revoked, or something? What am I missing?”

Maria did end up getting her Polio shot that day (I’d check the ethics on that earlier at her 2-month visit. The doctor told me to research the Vatican issue and get back to her. “We’ve got plenty of time to cross the rubella bridge” she assures me.

Ten days later, I show up with a different kid. “Did you figure out the rubella problem” my doctor cheerful greets me. I look at her with wide, deer in the headlight eyes. “It’s Christmas preparation season, I’m in full survival mode,” I think. “I’m still working on that” is my answer.

Now it is January 4, flu shot day. I have a vague notion that I should pull the safe vaccination schedule out of Maria’s file. “Ah, I’ve got enough to do,” and get back to the process of getting clean pants, mittens, and hats on everyone, in addition to locating the missing car-keys and walking the distraught elderly dog.

So now we are in office, waiting for the nurse appointment for two flu shots. (Alex has already has his on his 3 year old visit in December. Maria had the first of her two flu shots.) I’m so excited to finally figure out that I can simply request “preservative free” shots for my four year old. This makes me feel like a good mother for half a second. Then I read, “the best time to get a flu shot is between October and November” in the thrilling vaccination literature. “What type of mother waits until January to get her girls inoculated?” I think dejectedly.

As the nurse walks in, Alex suddenly started wailing “I WANT MY SISTER!” The baby starts to whimper in her stroller. “He’s touching me! He’s touching me! Mom, I DON’T WANT TO GET SHOT TODAY!” Hannah can’t figure which is worse. I’m thinking “it’s a good thing we live in the suburbs because your statement could have different implications in downtown D.C.” Then I sit down on an empty chair, grab a wiggling Alex in my lap and start to marvel at how strong the boy has gotten lately.

Over all this commotion, the nurse, whom we later realize is named Florence, “Your daughter is behind on her shots…”

“Oh, I know,” I cut her off. “Hannah’s being home-schooled. She doesn’t need the rest of her shots until age 5. Her doctor gave us the okay.”

Florence looks at me like I’ve grown two –heads. “I’m talking about the baby!”

“Oh,” I’ve realized that I’ve just spilled the beans that daughter number two is also off her recommended vaccination schedule.

Florence starts listing all the multiple shots that Maria (age 7 months) needs. I’m totally confused. I think she just needs her HiB shot. Eventually, this shot includes other vaccines. There’s something called a Prevnar? Things are being said. Alex is screaming now “I want my SISTER,” he’s wrestling hard in my arms. After each mention of the work “shot” Hannah starts whimpering louder. My brain feels like it’s wrapped in cotton gauze. I remember checking the validity of Maria’s polio vaccine. I can not remember hearing any of the other vaccine names during her earlier visits.

I throw out a truce. “We’re just here for the flu shots. Can’t we handle the rest of the vaccines during our scheduled appointment on January 14?”

“Well, it’s your choice.” Florence juts out her chin farther and implies in her tone of voice that a) it is technically my choice, but b) only an imbecile would willing chose to come back to the doctors office with this unruly mass of humanity, and c) my decision to take such course of action clearly warrants a call to Children’s Services.

I return to my cotton gauze memory in vain. Maria starts to cry. “I know this sounds crazy to want to come back,” I say humbly. “We have a religious objection to some of the vaccines. I know the polio is okay, but I can’t remember about the others. I left my information sheet at home. I want to reschedule the shots for next week, when I’ll be sure to have my list.”

“What objections can you possibly have to the vaccines?” Florence says accusingly.

I look at my kids. Everyone is distracted with his or her own interior dramas. “Some of the vaccines are made from products of aborted fetuses” I say.

“Oh no” Florence answers.

“Yeah, the Vatican says so” I sigh. “Here we go again- no one in the medical profession ever believes me,” runs my interior monologue. Florence’s answer causes me to jerk out of my self-pity mode.

“I didn’t know, it’s not a sin if I didn’t know, right?” Florence says in horror. “Well, we’ve got a Catholic nurse on our hands!” I think.

And so out it comes for the next ten minutes, that Florence is completely against abortions. She caused trouble as a nursing student at Catholic University when she refused to watch an abortion being performed as part of her hospital training. I learn about her anguish being forced into an early D& C after to miscarriages (“I just want to wait another week to make sure there is no heart beat,” she said). Florence wrote down her name on a scrap of paper and begged me to mail her a copy of Vatican statement.

Needless to say, Florence’s outlook completely changed. “Let’s just do those flu shots today! We won’t bother those sweet girls with the icky other vaccines until your completely sure.” She gave the shots to both girls like a pro. No one cried. She started to fill me in on her few objections to the Catholic Church “I think divorce should be okay in cases of spousal abuse. I think women should be priests.” Before I could answer, Alex took advantage of my distraction in reattaching Maria’s stroller buckles to race out of the office and towards the enticing toys of the waiting room. ‘I’ve got to go. We’ll pray for you.” I said in parting. I took one look at the giggling, happy Maria. Not trace of pain from the shot. “I do this every day,” her smile said. “Santicifying the world by my very presence!”

As I chased after Alex, hugging a seven month old, lugging a worn stroller and dragging a four year old in a new Gap dress, I felt a burden being lifted. God had a plan for this day. Everything was useful for a larger purpose. If I was supremely organized about the vaccination schedule, brave and efficient, then we never would have run into Florence. My tentative declaration of faith was enough to open the door to a Catholic who faces this moral issue every day.

I have no idea if I’m the first to hear about this vaccine controversy or the last. In the interest of sharing your mom’s the grief of writing formal letters, please feel free to copy the letter posted below. For a great in depth analysis of this issue, please refer to Et Tu Jen’s excellent post. For the official Vatican statement go here.

I’ve come to the conclusion to request the ethical alternative Polio vaccine, avoid the Chicken Pox vaccine, and accept the unethical Rubella vaccine if no ethical alternative arrive by May 2008. I am just a simple Catholic convert, so please consult your own spiritual advisor on this matter. (and then leave a comment because I’d appreciate knowing what others are doing about this issue.) Please pray for Florence and for all Catholic nurses, doctors and research scientists who are on the front lines of this moral issue every day.

Form Letter:

Dear Dr. (insert name):

As a Roman Catholic, and the mother of three of your pediatric patients, I have a religious objection to my children receiving some of the recommended childhood immunization vaccines currently distributed by Kaiser-Permanente.

In the 2005 document, “Moral Reflections on Vaccines Prepared from Cells Derived from Aborted Human Foetuses (sic),” the Vatican has affirmed that the Rubella vaccine distributed by Merck in the United States, the Chicken Pox vaccine distributed by Varivax, and the Polio virus vaccine distributed by Poliovax, are made from human cell lines obtained by aborted fetuses. (See Attachment A, pages 2, 3. See also Attachment B, Nat’l Immunization Info, pg. 1). The Vatican has urged all Catholic parents to use alternative vaccines and make a conscientious objection to those with have moral problems. (See Attachment A, pages 6-7).

As a result, I respectfully request that my children do not receive the chicken pox vaccine. I request that my children receive an ethical version of the Polio Vaccine, (Pediacel, Pediarix + HiB, or IPOL + any DTap) instead of the unethical versions (Pentacel, Infanrix, or Quadracel.)

I have grave reservations about inoculating my daughter (insert child’s name) with the MMR vaccine. There appears to be no ethical Rubella Vaccine currently available in the United States. (See Attachment C, Ethical Vaccination Schedule.) As you are well aware, failure to immunize my daughter against rubella during her one year pediatric visit in May 2008, will expose all the pregnant women she comes into contact with in the future to be exposed to German measles. The severity of congenital rubella places us pro-life parents in a serious moral quandary. The Vatican has discussed this issue in depth, and has allowed a limited exception in the case of the Rubella vaccine. (See Attachment A.) During our one year visit, I will wish to confirm that no alternative exists to the Meruvax, MMR-Priorix, MR Vax, Eolarix, or Biavax II, Rubella vaccines before I consent to have my daughter, Maria inoculated.

Thank you for you concern in this matter. Thank you, also, for you attentive care to my children’s welfare.

Sincerely,

(your name)

Help of the Holy Innocents

On December 23, 2002, Jon and I started crying in a genetic counselor's office at Ohio State University Hospital. We started out the day happy to have an extra day off work. We packed snacks to munch on during the two-hour car trip to Columbus.

We'd already gone through the shock of hearing that Cystic Fibrosis was in the family gene pool. (Jon's Dad casually mentioned having a nephew who died at age five during a Thanksgiving visit. I was five months pregnant with our first child and promptly burst into tears, convinced my fascination with an autobiography l read on the subject at age 8 was a foreshadowing of things to come. I was right, sort of. My husband and I are both carriers of the CF gene. His is the most severe form, mine is a mild form that is rarely active. My ob-gyn had done her homework. She said our babies risked a mild to moderate form of CF. The referral to OSU was a formality, we were told.)

So we started out the car trip, happy. We talked about asking for advice on how to tell our children they were at risk for having CF positive babies. We decided to spring for CF test when they got married. We told ourselves we could handle saying rosaries by the sickbeds of any future grandchildren. "Whistling in the dark" is the name for our conversation.

Then came the devastating news from the genetic counselor. "No, your baby has the 1/4 chance of having a fatal disease, not your grandchildren." Then to ease the burden on my stricken face, "Don't worry. This is the only baby who will have that risk. For all the other babies, we'll do an amino, if the fetus is CF positive, we'll take care of it. Sorry that we didn't catch this one until it was too late [the sixth month.]"

I was a brand new Catholic, and I hung so fiercely to the label that I'd just checked of on my religious preference form.

"I'm Catholic," I said. "I can't do an abortion." I repeated that same sentence for a mind-numbing amount of time. I watched my husband fall apart. I cried into fist after fist of tissues. I argued my way out of a same-day amino by saying "I don't want to worry about miscarriage on Christmas. Let me go home, now." I felt scared. I felt alone. There was all this intense medical pressure to do a test which would only tell us a basic hands up or hands down CF result a mere two weeks before my due date.

"I'm Catholic, I'm Catholic, I'm Catholic" I stuttered, until they let me go home.

I knew in their mind "Catholic" meant "crazy as a loon about medically necessary procedures." I didn't care. It got me out of that suffocating environment. Because the whole Catholic church has been solidly pro-life for all these centuries repeating the phrase "I can't because I'm Catholic" means that doctors will eventually realize that they single-handedly can't "reason" with you. Eventually, they will save their breath to cool their porridge.

Because I was Catholic, I had a chance to get out of that room without an amnio. Because my husband is an expert in patient advocacy, we found our way to the hospital library. The information we read gave us hope. The average lifespan of a CF patients is age 18, we read. “Well, at least that isn’t age five, we said.” [I’ve since discovered its currently up to age 36].

Jon and I left the hospital library. We were dazed and ended up missing our freeway entrance. After a few wrong turns we gave up and decided to eat lunch at a Bob Evens Restaurant. I cried again, this time into paper napkins instead of Kleenex.

Then, I grabbed his hand over mashed potatoes and a pot roast sandwich. "Even if it ends up just being us in the room at the nursing home. . . even if none of our children live to adulthood, it would be worth it. We're not raising kids to get something back from them. We won't be hoping for companionship in our old age, or for them to make us look good by graduating from college with lots of awards. We're just raising kids for themselves alone, for whatever life God has planned."

Those were the words that I shared with my husband. That was our "mashed potato pledge." This is where our unconditional love of our children began. I count that moment as one of the sweetest in my marriage.

It's taken me a long time (like 3 years) to forgive the genetic counselor we had at OSU. Now, I pray for her, for the ob who said women can’t have more than three c-sections, and for all the medical professionals caught up in the anti-life sentiments which currently plague a healing profession.

Our memories of that day are still fresh. When my husband's employer wanted to add the Association of Genetic Counselors as a client, my husband did his research. He looked at their policies and talked to our priest. Then he told his boss that he would have to quit his job if they demanded that he do any advertising work for this association because it conflicted with his beliefs as a Catholic. He said this even though I was six months pregnant with Maria, and our savings would have barely covered one month’s rent. (This is a Dad story I’ll proudly share with Alex some day.)

So far all three of my children have tested negative for CF. I worry about every baby from the first positive pregnancy test until the results of the newborn blood test heel-stick tests come back. According to a New York Times newspaper article, 90 % of all babies who are dignosed as positive for CF through an amnio in the United States are aborted.

I picked up a brochure on this subject from the US Conference of Catholic Bishops at my new parish today. The bishops stress that priests and pastors can help support family. Catholics have a right to know that "early induction of labor performed simply for the reason that the child has a lethal anomaly is direct abortion." They suggest that rather than saying, "only you know what is best for your family", Priests should share some of these statements:

“Every life is created by God and has a purpose.

God has chosen you to be the mother of this special child.

God will give you every grace you need.

Name your baby, talk to your baby, and love your baby like any mother would.

God hears your pain. He loves you and calls you, and all of his children, to embrace the sanctity of human life form conception to natural death. He will never leave your side.

No matter how long your baby lives, he will be your child for all eternity.

Create wonderful memories of this special time while he is still alive and protected in your womb.

Remember that God can and does perform miracles. Don't be afraid to ask, and don't be afraid to hope.

These special babies bring with them many spiritual gifts and graces."

Holy Innocents, protect all children from harm. Encourage our priests and laity to speak out strongly in favor of the dignity of human life.

The full text of "Peter's Story" by Mary Kellett is available here.

Disability Rights

Read all about the challenging IEP Process here
This post brought me back to my many, many IEP meeting experiences as an Education Law Attorney for Legal Services. God Bless you all who are in these sticky mediations. (I found that domestic violence hearings were less tense than facing an irate second grade teacher who was fed up with the ADHD kid in her class.)

Here's are ten tips for surviving IEP meetings.

1. BRING FOOD to the meeting. This starts everyone out on a good note. The adage "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" also applies to IEP team members. It also lets you say, "Oh I didn't realize that there would be 15 staff members here today. I only made brownies for five." Next time, they will make sure to give you an accurate count of IEP members in advance.

2. If the meeting is going to ugly (not always easy to predict in advance like 'Lissa's post shows), shake things up by sending in the other parent. For example, if Mom is the one who usually goes to the meetings. Shake things up by sending in Dad to sign the final IEP. The teachers will fall all over themselves trying the help the "new" & "lost" parent.

3.Every family should own a copy of "From Emotions to Advocacy" available here. Read it cover to cover. Highlight it. Sleep with it under your pillow before each IEP meeting.

Seriously, I cannot recommend this website enough. Wrights law is founded by a severely dyslexic student who went on to break all odds and become a lawyer. (His wife is a counselor.) Mr. Wright performed a miracle intervention for one of my middle school classmate's brothers. The Wrights truly know of what they speak, and they are very, very encouraging. The Wrights lead IEP trainings all over the country. Go to one in your area. Immediately! You'll learn all kinds of valuable tips and make alliances with other parents and "friendly" experts.

4. Pay to have a neutral assessment of your child. Even though the school must provide free assessments, at least one comprehensive exam during your child's school career should be on your own dime and with the very best "expert" in your area. Even if you have to save up for three years for this exam, it is worth it to have at least one person without an agenda give you medical advice about your child's personal strengths and weaknesses.

5. Start a huge binder filled with every single examination ever given to your child. (Kids tend to float up and down, even on supposedly stable things like IQ scores.) Pull out the six pound volume during IEP meetings. This highlights how knowledgeable you are about your kid and gives a quick double check to see if a disputed test result was a "fluke" or ongoing trend.

6.Always, always take a 10 min "clear your head break" before signing the IEP. I used this time to go over each option with my client. If your alone, you can call your spouse at work- have him remind you what your initial goal was and double check your rational for any compromises.

7. You can LEAVE an IEP meeting without signing a new form. An unsigned IEP is better than a signed, less than 100% agreeable one, for the reasons explained above.

8. Remember, never lose your temper! (You will need to cultivate heroic examples of
"meekness"as explained below.) The most important thing to maintain during the IEP meeting is the good relationship between your kid and his teachers.

9. Think like a lawyer. Build up your case. If you've reached a logjam with the school system, calmly end the meeting. The old IEP will stay in place. (IEP's never "expire" they only get updated). Start getting the proof that you need to support your position. Schedule another IEP meeting when you have the proof you need to add weight to your proposed changes.

10. Get support. School politics are a local beast. You'll need to know how to navigate inside your kids individual school system. A great reference can be the district's IEP parent support person. If this post is vacant in your area, volunteer to fill it. A ten minute monthly chat with a new parent in your area will be a life saver for her child for the entire school year!