Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Life on Growth Hormone

   It's been about 2 1/2 weeks since we started Freya on her growth hormone.  We've had some struggles, as one can imagine an inexperienced person having to give their first shot ever to their infant.  My hands were shaking as I pinched a section of fat on Freya's thigh and pushed the needle into her soft baby flesh.  True to her sweet-spirited nature she barely flinched and didn't seem to notice.  She hasn't even held it against me the times that she has moved her leg and I've bruised her; or like the other night, made a half an inch long scratch on her leg from the needle.  It's times like these that I can't believe I'm allowed to do this; that parents all over are doing this.  But usually the shots are uneventful and I can finally relax when I put the pen device back in the fridge for the night.  
  Freya was already doing quite well, for a baby with her disorder, before she began these shots.  But I have seen a few things in the last week that has inspired me to believe more in their effectiveness.  Freya just feels sturdier, more solid.  She can sit for 20 minutes at a time now without falling over.  She is even putting weight on her feet and beginning to learn how to stand.  We've had some issues with increased heart rate that I have learned not to be too alarmed about.  Her therapists are all impressed with her and the big victory was today, seeing her mark on the growth chart and not below it.  
   For most of my adult life I have believed whole heartedly in more traditional, natural ways of healing involving diet, herbal medicines, acupuncture and things like meditation and visualization.  Of course none of my recent experiences have changed how I feel about those methods of healing.  But I've often discounted or argued against Western Medicine.  To be honest, I still have many of the same feelings about that also.  But I have learned to have a new found respect for some aspects of Western Medicine. In all fairness, Freya may not have even survived her birth without it.  And though we are potentially looking at a life time of struggles with her disorder, I cannot imagine never having met this wonderful being or looking forward to watching her grow and become the person she is.  So, in a rare moment of gratitude for an institution I think needs a lot of revising, thank you Western Medicine, for my daughters life and your ability to help her thrive.