by Taye Foster Bradshaw

Created on: October 29, 2007   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

No one would listen, not the nurse at the pediatrician's office when I called in, not the many doctors I desperately went to, not my husband, no one would listen. I knew something was wrong, I knew she was sick, I knew it was serious. Doctor after doctor blew it off as if it was "just a cold" or "perhaps the flu." One finally said "perhaps she is allergic to milk" and had me purchase a soy based formula. She got worse. No one would listen.

My daughter was a December born baby and when she turned a year old in 2004, I began introduce her to milk and other foods as part of the weaning from breast milk. She was exclusively nursed on demand from birth and never had a problem. When she began throwing up repeatedly, I knew there was a problem. She had been plagued with eczema as a newborn, she was less than two months when the red, prickley bumps appeared all over her body. The doctor didn't make the connection that since she was nursed, perhaps something in my diet was causing her to break out. They just prescribed creams after creams and when the eczema then presented with asthma and difficulty breathing, they gave me a nebulizer and more medicine. She eventually got a little better with her skin and I was introduced to the wonders of shea butter and lavender. I invested in natural products from several companies, I bought natural cleaners, laundry, and bathing products. I removed all the toxins from my home. Still, she threw up.

This beautiful, milk-chocolate, bubbly, round, curly haired little baby would have throwing up episodes that resembled a volcanic eruption. Laughter became a release as we grabbed the white towels to clean up. "Here she blows!" was the comment of my youngest son. "Choke out," is what her sister called it. Confused is what I became. Exhausted, watchful, and afraid.

One night after another day of white towels and lavender cleaning, Pedialyte, nursing, and cuddling, we tumbled into bed like wobbly spaghetti spilling over the bowl. We couldn't keep our eyes open and she just wanted to cuddle. I didn't dare take her upstairs to her room so she and her big sister joined us in the massive, solid wood, wall of a king-sized bed. Sleep came mercifully fast and we settled into a deep slumber.

The sound came before we saw it or felt it. It was a gurgling, mighty rushing, like something of epic proportions, then the flow like a water skier's wave, whoosh! She was violently retching and as she'd only consumed breast milk and liquids all day, the color

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