I staggered out of the den and ran upstairs. There, my usually calm and collected non-panicking husband was holding my youngest who was indeed having trouble breathing. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. The operator answered quickly, got my information, and stayed on the phone with me until the police arrived.

They arrived in 3 minutes and 38 seconds. Or less, really. (I know this because I looked at my cell phone log on the way home and that was the call duration.) I waved them in and they ran upstairs to assess my little girl. The paramedics arrived soon after. The first one into the room called it: “She’s got croup.” He told us she would be okay, but that since she was having problems breathing we’d be taking a ride in the ambulance to the local hospital.

My husband grabbed my socks and sneakers. I put slippers on the baby, and we went to the hospital. I went with the baby in the rig. My husband followed in the car once my sister got to our house to stay with Big Girl. Throughout the entire process, the entire ride, all the questions and answers and during the time I held the oxygen mask over my poor sweetheart’s face, I kept praying. Hoping it was croup, while at the same time sitting there in disbelief. How could this be happening? Babies get croup. Toddlers get croup. Children who are going on four do not get croup. Not unless they’ve been getting it since they were babies or toddlers. And yet as soon as we got to the hospital the doctor made the same diagnosis as the EMT. Croup.

Once they got us in a room the doctor continued the moist oxygen treatment and gave her an oral dose of steroids. We stayed at the hospital until her breathing was stable and she could talk. (When my husband went in to check on her, he told me on the way home, he got hysterical not only because she couldn’t breathe, but because she couldn’t speak, either.)

She’s sleeping in our bed right now. My husband, who has never, ever allowed our children to sleep in our bed, was the one to suggest it. I’m exhausted so I am going to join them. But I still can’t believe it. Little Girl has croup. Thank goodness. I hope she sleeps better than I do tonight.

First thing: If you feel nauseous and are experiencing vomiting, watery non-bloody diarrhea, and abdominal pain, you’ve probably got norovirus, which is the second most frequent cause of illness after the common cold. (Other symptoms may include low-grade fever, headache, chills, muscle aches, and fatigue.) Symptoms start between 24 and 48 hours after exposure, but can occur in as little as 12 hours after exposure.

You get it by eating or drinking something that’s been contaminated with stool or vomit of an infected person. For instance, the person making your bagel had the disease last week, went to the bathroom, and didn’t wash up carefully enough, transferring the germ onto your bagel. You can also get it by touching something contaminated (a coffee pot at a convenience store, your child’s blankie, a door handle, a gas pump, an ATM) and then putting your hands or fingers in your mouth. Heck, you can even get it by sharing a drink or food with someone who is contagious or just being around someone who is sick since the norovirus can — albeit less frequently — go airborne. The worst part: You can get the disease more than once. Unlike certain bacterial diseases, you don’t create long-term antibodies against the stomach flu. Antibodies last between two and six months, according to the CDC, which is why some people get the norovirus every fall or winter when the disease is most active.

From the Centers for Disease Control: “The CDC estimates that each year more than 20 million cases of acute gastroenteritis are caused by noroviruses. That means about 1 in every 15 Americans will get norovirus illness each year. Norovirus is also estimated to cause over 70,000 hospitalizations and 800 deaths each year in the United States.”

While catching this annoying, painful disease is easy, it’s just as easy to avoid catching it. Want to stay healthy? Follow these tips:

1. Wash, wash, and then wash some more: Every expert out there says the best way to avoid getting sick is to wash your hands frequently and keep them out of your mouth. Suds up using plain old soap and sing the “Happy Birthday” song twice. Help little ones wash up religiously so they don’t wipe in the bathroom and then wipe the germs all over your hands and house and TV remotes. (One thing to note: The CDC reports that antibacterial soaps containing triclosan and quarternary ammonium compounds have not been found to be effective against the stomach virus, another reason to avoid them.) If you’re not near a sink, use alcohol-based hand sanitizers containing at least 60 percent alcohol. Personally, I have Purell in my car, in my bag, on the kitchen counter, and in my gym bag. (Did I mention how bad I get the bug when I get sick???)
2. Clean with bleach: This is one of those “natural-as-possible” moments. Greenies hate chlorine bleach, but it’s the best thing to use if you or someone in your home has the bug because it actually kills the virus. Make a bleach solution using 5 to 25 tablespoons household bleach and a gallon of water, and use it to disinfect all hard surfaces. Don’t forget “frequent touch” spots such as door knobs, hand rails on stairs, light switches, refrigerator and toaster handles, your PC mouse and keyboard, touchscreens, and your telephones. Of course, take care not to get bleach into your electronics. Wipe screens and remotes with a rag or paper towel dampened with the bleach solution; Don’t spray it directly onto your devices.
3. Practice good food safety. According to the CDC, an estimated five million cases of food-borne norovirus infections happen each year via food contamination.  That said, carefully wash raw fruits and veggies before eating them, and be aware of how people are preparing your food. (Me? I avoid all prepared food during stomach virus season.) Don’t knowingly eat food that’s been prepared by someone who was sick recently, either.
4. Disinfect laundry — especially sheets and towels: My mom used to strip the beds after we were sick, wash our sheets in bleach, and hang them out to dry in the sun — even in the winter. Seems like she had the right idea. The norovirus can spread really easily via contaminated pillowcases and towels. Makes sense, right? Disinfect laundry by (again, this is not exactly a green practice) washing with hot water and drying on “high.” Use bleach if you’re dealing with poopy or vomited-on items such as sheets and towels. Don’t forget to disinfect your washer afterward by running it empty with bleach and soap. Another tip: Make sure you wash your hands after transferring wet laundry from the washer to the dryer.
5. Keep sick kids and adults quarantined:  This is a no-brainer. Keep sickies in their bedrooms, and, if you have more than one bathroom, assign them their own commode that’s off-limits to the rest of the family. Bleach-bomb it before you let anyone use it again.
6. Follow the two-week rule. The stomach bug sheds from your intestines for up to two weeks after the last symptoms end. This means you and your kids are contagious long after your last stomach cramp. Don’t get lax about washing, disinfecting, or sharing food during the shedding phase.
7. Do a home sweep.  Aside from TV remotes, the virus can and does live on hard surfaces as well as on carpeting and floors for up to a week. Don’t forget to disinfect things that you touch all the time but rarely clean like steering wheels and your child’s well-loved toys. If you have babies or toddlers make sure binkies, diaper pails, bottles, and crib rails are disinfected, too.  (We actually used the stomach virus to wean my oldest –then 13 months — off her binky since she didn’t take it when sick, and didn’t remember it once she got better.)

This is a lot of information, but hopefully — with a little luck and a lot of Purell and bleach solution — you’ll avoid getting the bug. And one final word of warning: While most people recover very quickly from the stomach virus, make sure you stay hydrated and call your doctor if you have any questions, especially if you or a family member fall into a high risk group: the elderly, ill, or very young. Dehydration can happen very quickly, and can be very dangerous. Here’s a link to the CDC’s guidelines for management of acute diarrhea.

Did you get the stomach bug this year? If so, how did you manage? Please feel free to post any tips you’ve discovered for managing the disease.

This week, The Alliance for a Clean and Healthy Maine Mainely Moms and Dads confirmed the chemical is still out there, and it can be found in many of the foods we’re giving our babies and toddlers. From the organization’s news release:

“The Alliance for a Clean and Healthy Maine sent fifteen containers of food to Anresco Laboratories for analysis in January and released the results today. BPA was found in 11 of the 12 sampled containers of baby food manufactured by Beech-Nut, Gerber, Earth’s Best Organic and Shaw’s Wild Harvest brand. It was also found in all three of the canned foods sampled including Campbell’s Disney Princess SpaghettiOs, Dora the Explorer soup, and Chef Boyardee macaroni and cheese.”

This is pretty scary. In case you haven’t seen the data: Teams of independent researchers have found that BPA isn’t as safe as once though. The reason: It acts as an endocrine disruptor, mimicking human hormones like estrogen. People have linked it to increased risk of breast cancer, thyroid issues, lowered male fertility rates, decreased birth weight, and wheezing, among other ailments and issues. Another October 2011 Harvard School of Public Health study found BPA exposure in the womb is linked to behavioral and emotional difficulties in girls. Of course the folks who bring us this plastic and resin say it’s perfectly fine. Me? I’m thinking that all those researchers can’t be wrong, which is why I limit my family’s BPA exposure as much as possible.

The smart folks in Maine are asking manufacturers of food intentionally marketed or sold to children under three to replace BPA or disclose how much BPA is in their packaging. They say a second phase will ask for a complete ban of the substance. It’s a start, I guess, but I’d rather see our governments come out and ban BPA in all food containers as well as anything that might be ingested by kids or adults. What do you think?

I’ve been a freelance writer for about a dozen years and have written for pretty much every women’s magazine out there. Before kids, I used to write a lot for Marie Claire. I pitched every one of my stories — that is, I came up with the idea, wrote it up, and it was approved and assigned by the editors. One of the ideas came about after a friend had her first baby. Afterward, she confided, she was having problems. Any time she laughed, coughed, or ran, she leaked urine. I did research for her and realized that her pelvic floor muscles were probably stretched out or damaged from pushing for more than three hours. It was a story, I decided, and I pitched it to my Marie Claire editor. Here’s an excerpt from the letter (yes, an actual snail mail letter since my editor wanted to see clips, too) I wrote:

Thank you for taking a look at my pitch on vaginal strength and gynecological physical therapy, which I sent to you today via e-mail. As I mentioned in my e-mailed pitch, the researchers I’ve spoken to such as Dr. Lauri Romanzi, a uro-gynecologist at Cornell University-New York Presbyterian Hospital say American women are missing out because few know that their vaginal problems can be solved using directed Kegels, biofeedback, and other physical therapy methodologies. This leads to needless suffering just because doctors and most media outlets are squeamish about the topic. I’d love to be the one that breaks down these barriers and helps let Marie Claire readers in on the secret.

Completely crappy letter, but hey, I was just a wet-behind-the-ears kid. But I digress as usual. The story was assigned, but not exactly in the way I envisioned. The title of my story morphed from “Get a Stronger Pelvic Floor,” to “Best Orgasm Ever!” You can read it here. There’s still advice and info that stands the test of time. The testers were two of my karate pals and me, of course. And I got to go into Dr. Glazer’s New York City office, get uro-dynamic testing, and take home a vaginal biofeedback machine. It was fairly awesome. (I remember being very offended that I was “strong” but lacked “endurance.” In layman terms, my pelvic floor muscles were strong, but got tired quickly.)

Anyway, fast forward a half a dozen years and I was pregnant with my second child — you know, after my first child that weighed in at 8 pounds, 5 ounces at birth and who has a giant head. I got the flu. Twice. I had HUGE issues. Every time I coughed, I leaked. (Sorry for that TMI.) I blogged about it. Anyone who is having similar issues should definitely read that post, Whiz Bang, You’re Wet (Or How Not to Pee Your Pants).

As my story and the book, The Bathroom Key, show, there are millions of women suffering with urinary incontinence but they don’t have to be. There are treatments and exercises and help available. You just have to be willing to talk about a problem that could seem a little embarrassing. In this case I think we as women need to take a page from men. They are more than willing to go into their doctors’ offices and tell them about weak urine streams and erectile dysfunction. Why should we be afraid of talking about a little leaky urine?

Have you ever had a problem with bladder incontinence or any other pelvic floor issues? Did you seek help? How did that go for you? I’d like to know.

I was lucky. After the doctor cleaned the wound and cut back some of my toenail she told me that it was probably broken (of course) and that although it was still bleeding a lot, the bleeding would stop within a few hours. She bandaged it up, and was about to send me on my way when she asked how I had found out about her office. I told her that I walked around on her practice for more than a decade. I wasn’t kidding. I have orthotics and they are printed with her practice’s name and number. How old were my orthotics really, she wanted to know. Old, I said. I had them for at least 15 years. That’s when she told me that orthotics have a “shelf life” of a couple of years. She told me I should replace the ones I had, and suggested that I do it when I followed up with her in a week for a pinky toe recheck. Why not, I figured.

The next Saturday I went back to the foot care practice. The doctor checked out my black and still-painful toe, and then told me that her office had checked and my orthotics would be covered 100 percent. If I wanted them, they could do the exam right then and there. The kids were at their Saturday morning events, so I jumped at the chance. Oh, there would be just one thing, her assistant added. I had to get x-rays because, and I quote, “it is a requirement of your insurance carrier.” Hmmm. I was skeptical, but I figured that a doctor’s office — my doctor’s office — wouldn’t lie to me. Soon after I found myself standing on an x-ray platform. A week or so later I got the detailed bill from the insurance company. My re-check, x-rays, and orthotics cost my insurance company $960. An hour-long visit netted the practice almost $1,000 once they threw in my $20 co-pay.

Okay, so earlier this week I get a call from the podiatrist’s office. My orthotics were in, and the woman on the phone wanted to set up an office visit to have me pick them up. I’ve worn orthotics for years, I explained, I don’t need or want an office visit. And then came more or less the exact words the doctor’s assistant had said at my first visit: “Your insurance company requires an office visit before we can give them to you.”

I had my in-laws here when they called, so I didn’t want to argue on the phone. However, this time, I wasn’t just taking their word for it. And so earlier today I put in a call to my insurance company. Guess what? Not only were they lying about the office visit, but I didn’t need x-rays, either. I was mad.

I called the office and spoke to the receptionist. I wanted to come pick up my orthotics, please, I said. She reiterated her “insurance requires it” speech, and said the doctor had to “put the orthotics” in my shoes. I didn’t even let her finish before letting her know that I knew she was being less than truthful with me. I told her I had just gotten off the phone with the insurance company, and there was no such rule. Finally, I told her that I was not wasting $35 (my co-pay went up this year) to have a doctor slide inserts into my shoes. She was quiet for a second before taking my number and saying she would have to “check” with the office manager first. And now I’m waiting to hear back.

This is another example of why I feel like we all have to be our own medical advocates. The Republicans and Democrats can bitch all they want about class warfare, but the real battle is happening in doctor, dentist, and therapist offices across the country. Payments have gone down, paperwork has gone up, and we are bearing the brunt of both. We get tests we don’t need so doctors can boost their per-office visit fees. We wait for HOURS because they rack ‘em and stack ‘em, piling up patients so they don’t have any downtime in case someone should cancel. They charge us for copies of our medical records, something that should essentially be free since we OWN them. They spend less and less time with us and get mad if we ask questions. (Exhibit A: The midwife who told me, after my miscarriage, that her office might not be for me since I dared to question her treatment plan.)

People, we are the only ones who can mitigate these issues. We MUST be vigilant so we get the best care at the most reasonable charges. We have to stop blindly taking medicines, submitting to testing, and filling out paperwork. (For example, you shouldn’t give your Social Security number to your doctor’s office unless you’re receiving Medicare or Medicaid.) We have to be willing to question why, and if we’re not satisfied with the answer, we have to keep asking — and in some cases someone else — until we are. Whew. I hate being all soapbox-y, but this stuff really, really makes me crazy.

I cannot WAIT to see what happens with my podiatrist, one who was recently given a Best Of award by a local newspaper. Will they hold my orthotics hostage? Will they waive my co-pay just so they can bill my insurance company? I’ll let you know.

I wasn’t surprised since, as a child I spent half my life drinking pink Amoxicillin and chewing baby aspirin. Still, I calmly explained that no, I didn’t give her anything since having a fever is actually a good thing. It’s the body’s way of fighting the infection. Bringing the fever down would be like putting a muzzle on a guard dog. A silly, silly idea.

The fever persisted into the afternoon so, after my webinar, I stopped into the pediatrician just to let them take a look-see. She didn’t have any other symptoms, but she was complaining that her lower belly hurt making me wonder if it was a urinary tract infection. The doctor did a thorough exam with Little Girl sitting and screaming in my arms since she is terrified of the doctor. (That’s another blog post — an after effect of her liquid stitches experience last month.) The doctor also got a urine sample and cultured it. At the end of the exam, my doctor said Little Girl probably had a virus, sending me on my way without medicine, I might add. She did say I could give Little Girl Tylenol or Motrin if she was complaining a lot or was unable to sleep, but otherwise keep doing what I was doing: giving her lots of fluids, keeping her quiet, and encouraging her to rest.

Tonight around 11 p.m. my phone rang. It was my mom. Again, she asked if I had given Little Girl anything for her fever. This time, I couldn’t help myself. Apple iPad in hand, I pulled up the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) website and read something to her. Back in February the organization came out with a new clinical report — Fever and Antipyretic Use in Children — that spoke to the use of fever reducers. From the report (I added the bold):

Fever, however, is not the primary illness but is a physiologic mechanism that has beneficial effects in fighting infection. There is no evidence that fever itself worsens the course of an illness or that it causes long-term neurologic complications. Thus, the primary goal of treating the febrile [with fever] child should be to improve the child’s overall comfort rather than focus on the normalization of body temperature.

Bottom line: Parents should not give Tylenol or Motrin — should not try and bring the fever down — unless the kid feels so terrible that they can’t sleep, eat, and drink. If they’re just a little hot, parents should let their immune system do what it needs to do. I’ve always done this for myself, too. I try not to take anything when I have a fever, instead picturing my germs sizzling and dying in my own internal sauna. (What do you expect? I’m half delirious with fever!)

Of course, I also follow common sense rules. I watch that the fever doesn’t go too high (for me that cut off is 102.5) and that everything else is okay. The patient, whether it’s me or my kids, must be drinking, urinating, and not in any pain that interferes with their normal personality. I also make sure the patient can sleep, since rest is so important when you’re fighting a virus or infection.

Little Girl went to sleep at 7 p.m. I’ve checked on her every few hours, and she seems cooler than she was in the morning. She hasn’t woken up (so far) and she hasn’t developed any other symptoms. I will keep a close eye on her, though, especially over the next few days and go back to the doctor if the fever lingers past the weekend or if she develops any symptoms that make me nervous. As for the bottle of Tylenol that my mom keeps pushing? I’m keeping it ready, but hoping, like the AAP suggests, I don’t need to use it.

The study asked 209 Washington State pediatricians about their overall willingness and “comfort” to use an alternative immunization schedule, something I believe in myself. The results were fairly surprising, at least for me. Almost two out of three (61 percent) of the doctors surveyed said they would be comfortable using an alternative schedule if parents specifically requested one. That’s welcome news, and news that should be out there: It’s okay to question or delay vaccines as long as you know the risks and benefits upfront.

I have three problems with the current vaccine schedule. First, kids are given a lot of vaccines starting at a very young age — birth for most. Second, most of the vaccines that doctors stick into kids are not required by law for entry into school. Finally, I think we’re vaccinating against diseases that — for those with healthy immune systems — aren’t going to hurt kids should they get them. In fact, I believe that kids should get sick sometimes. It’s good for the immune system.

As to the first issue: How is it that a minutes-old baby needs a Hepatitis B shot if its mother does not have the disease? Sure, I know doctors will say that the mother could have contracted the disease between the beginning of her pregnancy when she is tested for Hep B and the time she gives birth, but how likely is it really? The next set of recommended shots — and I do mean “set” since it’s FIVE shots — comes at two-months-old. At that time, doctors can give, based on the AAP’s recommendation, shots for rotavirus, haemophilus influenzae type b vaccine (Hib), pneumococcal conjugate vaccine (PCV), polio, and a combined shot of diphtheria, tetanus and acellular pertussis vaccine (DTaP). So basically seven different shots at one time. For a two-month-old. Two months later you get the same shots again. At six months, you’re looking at another rotavirus shot, another Hep B shot, DTaP, Hib, PVC, polio, and possibly a flu vaccine. All told, the kid’s had 19 shots and a cocktail of more than nine diseases injected into his or her system before they can barely sit up. And here’s the rub: Many of those shots are not required for school, and the AAP’s schedule calls for 15 more vaccines before the age of 6.

Here in New York kids need three doses of diphtheria, three doses of tetanus, three doses of polio, two dose of measles, one each of mumps and rubella, three doses of Hep B, and one dose of chicken pox. (No Hib or PCV, I might add!) By kindergarten. Kindergarten. Not by six-months-old. By kindergarten. Here’s the link to the AAP’s recommendations and the link to New York State’s requirements so you can check out the disparities.

This makes me ask the question: why? Why so many vaccines so young for kids with healthy immune systems? Of course, I am not a doctor. I’m just an educated, concerned parent who makes my own decisions. From my research I know that there are plenty of parents out there who are making their own decisions, too. Parents who say no to Hep B shots for babies. Parents who decide to wait six months between shots and keep the number of shots given in a single day to one or two. Parents who skip the shots that aren’t required by law. There are even people who choose not to vaccinate at all.

So what’s your take on this? I have a final FYI for those considering delaying: If you do delay, you might be interested to know that the AAP study also found that the doctors surveyed said there were three shots that they would not delay: Hib, PCV, and DTaP. My girls never got Hib or PCV, and I do not regret my decision.

Vaccines are a tough and loaded topic these days, so I will ask both sides of the debate and those who are in the middle to please speak respectfully to each other if you do choose to post here. Thanks.

My beautiful neti sitting in my bathroom.

Little Girl came home on Monday with her first preschool cold. No sniffles, just a cough. She’s actually really good about covering her mouth with her elbow, but she’s also only three. Sometimes she coughs on Mommy.

Yesterday I started getting that tell-tale burning in my sinuses as well as a pain behind my left eye that always leads to a cold. I do not have time for a cold. I have dinner out tonight with friends and a play with the girls tomorrow and a six-page white paper to write. I do not have time to be sick. I went into preventative action.

My first order of business: Using my neti pot. Don’t know what a neti is? Check out this post — one of the first I ever wrote — about the proven scientific benefits of using a neti pot, which is essentially a little teapot that you use to pour water through one nostril so it can come out the other. Since I first wrote that post, there’s been more research data to support the use of neti pots including this one proving its effectiveness for children from the University of Kansas School of Medicine and this one from the University of Padova in Padova, Italy. The Italian study actually that found that using a neti eliminated the bacteria staphylococcus aureus (better known as staph) in study subjects’ noses. Okay, so I used it and, I will not lie, because I wasn’t feeling good it was not a pleasant wash. It burned.

I also made sure I ate lots of cold-fighting foods yesterday. I had two bowls of soup, which has been found to have cold-fighting properties. I went with a tomato-based chili for lunch. (Tomatoes are high in vitamin C.) I had chicken soup for dinner. I also loaded up on garlic, adding two cloves to the chili I made.

This morning I feel better. It’s amazing, really. Was it the neti? Was it the food? Was it a combination of the two? I’m not sure, but I’m hoping that it sticks. Just to be on the safe side I am going to neti again this morning. It can’t hurt, right?

What’s your favorite cold-fighting cure? Have you ever used a neti pot? Even more important: Do you have a good chili recipe? Mine came out blech but I ate it because I couldn’t stand the thought of throwing out all that expensive organic chicken and beans. By the way, this post is how I am participating in this week’s Real Food Wednesday and Fight Back Friday, two awesome blog carnivals dedicated to promoting the use and consumption of — what else? — real food.

We went back and forth to the doctor about 10 times including twice to the after-hours facility. A virus, they told us. A cold. Allergies. Until finally my doctor proclaimed that she thought Big Girl had pertussis or whooping cough, as it is more commonly known as. The doctor swabbed Big Girl’s nose, and told us to sit back and wait. In the meantime, the doctor said she should get started on a course of HARSH antibiotics. They couldn’t halt the cough, she said, but would absolutely make sure she couldn’t pass it along to anyone else. (People with pertussis cough because the bacteria release a toxin, which paralyzes the cilia — the little hairs that sweep out bad stuff — in the trachea. They cough once the mucus and junk gets so thick that even paralyzed, the body knows it needs to get it out.) She took that medication for ten days twice a day along with a yogurt smoothie to keep her intestinal tract healthy. After the semi-diagnosis, she stayed in the house for five days until we knew she was clear. And I prayed every day that she hadn’t previously exposed someone who had an infant at home, since even vaccinated people aren’t safe from pertussis. The shot is only 60 percent effective. (See stories here and here that show the majority of people who get pertussis during an outbreak are vaccinated.)

When the baby developed a little cough that sounded “whoopy,” I medicated her, too. And my husband also got drugs when he started coughing. Interestingly, I never got the cough, which was weird because I was pregnant, and I picked up every little thing when I was pregnant with Little Girl. Anyway, Big Girl’s results come back negative for pertussis. Little Girl’s results (I had her swabbed, too) got lost at the lab. (Don’t even ask. I cried at the Long Island Children’s Museum when they told me that.) My husband’s swab was negative, too. However, my doctor and I, well, we still think it was pertussis, especially since I truly believe I was spared because I had a really, really bad case of pertussis as a child. I have what doctors call natural immunity.

The worst of the cough is over, but, as I expected, she is still coughing on and off, par for the course with pertussis. (If it was pertussis, she should cough until mid-October since it lasts up to three months.) I feel so bad for her when she coughs. Drugs — even if I was a medication type of person — don’t do anything. However, some recent research shows that there might be a fix for her cough. For anyone’s cough, really, and it’s more effective than any medication out there: a spoonful of honey.

The study was out of the Pennsylvania State University and compared the effectiveness of honey with drug dextromethorphan, found in over-the-counter cough medicine. There was a third study group that got nothing at all. The researchers made the dextromethorphan taste like honey so kids and parents couldn’t tell if they were getting the drugs or the actual honey. The study measured, “Cough frequency, cough severity, bothersome nature of cough, and child and parent sleep quality.” The results were pretty astounding.

“In a comparison of honey, [the drug treatment], and no treatment, parents rated honey most favorably for symptomatic relief of their child’s nocturnal cough and sleep difficulty due to upper respiratory tract infection. Honey may be a preferable treatment for the cough and sleep difficulty associated with childhood upper respiratory tract infection.”

Last night, hoping to ease her cough, which happens mostly at bedtime, I broke out a brand new jar of local honey that I picked up at Whole Foods. Big Girl, however, was not inclined to take it. I suffered through about five minutes of blech, ugh, grrr, nooos before giving up. We’ll try again tonight, and I’ll let you know how it goes.

This post is how I am participating in this week’s Real Food Wednesday and Fight Back Friday, two awesome blog carnivals dedicated to promoting the use and consumption of — what else? — real food.

Hallmark meant she cared...

I got a card in the mail today from a neighborhood woman. I told her about the miscarriage when she called to ask me to send out an email for a local organization. At the time, she was so sweet, telling me how sorry she was for our loss. We got off the phone and I felt comforted. Like she really got it. She meant what she was saying, and truly hurt for me.

The card itself was really sweet, too.

“Thoughts of you are gently wrapped in little prayers for heaven to smile on you, angels to watch over you, and happiness to fill your heart again.”

This was not the only act of kindness in my life. Today, for instance, I got a call from the mom of one of my religion kids. She apologized for taking so long to call, and wanted to know how I was feeling. I was so touched. My friends have been rallying around me, too. Calling, emailing, texting. “Just thinking of U today, Ka. Hope you are doing well.” I got that text around 7 p.m. this evening from an old, old friend.

In the past — when people I knew battled adversity — I always felt bad that I wasn’t doing MORE for them. What could a card do? What could a call do? Would my baked ziti really change anyone’s  life? I should have thought back to my first miscarriage in July 2005. (That baby, due January 2006, would be six right now.) Right after I miscarried there was a knock on the door. One of the people I consider a “bestie” was standing there holding a pint of Ralph’s Italian ices. Jelly ring flavor, which is a favorite. She looked really uncomfortable and told me she didn’t need to be invited in, but she wanted to do something to show me she was thinking of me. Later on, I ate those ices and cried over the baby I had lost. It sounds morbid, but I’ve never forgotten that small, kind act. I don’t think I ever will.

Anyway, the point of this rather depressing blog post is that yes, small acts of kindness and heartfelt sympathy really mean something. I feel more whole knowing there are, for instance, super-busy people who will drop everything in their Manhattan office, asking me where they can call me. And people who email me constantly, checking in and making sure I am okay. And I can’t forget my entire GROUP of writer friends who sent me their phone numbers and commiserated with me. Those who shared their own stories of loss and grief to let me know that they understood. That I am not alone. And what about the woman who only knows me through our kids — and hadn’t spoken to me for more than a year –  but offered to come over and help me clean up my yard so I could just sit and rest because I NEEDED my rest? How could I forget her? Or family member who texted me four simple words, “I am so sorry,” making me feel warm inside even while tears streamed down my face. (That one was especially meaningful since that particular family member has many, many more never-born babies than I do.) I was equally as humbled by the friend who constantly told me to drop off my kids or said she would come and pick them up as well as her husband, who knows how I feel about hugs but still wrapped his arms around me to tell me that he cares. Or my brother, who actually CAME to my house and hung out, which is something he rarely does. And my mom, who stopped nagging and just took care of me, bringing me meals and watching my kids. My in-laws, too, who raced to the hospital at 4 a.m. to bring my kids home and have been attentive and worried during the whole process.

Yes, this entire experience has sucked really, really bad, but it definitely brought me clarity. It shows me how many amazing people I have around me — more than I realized. It also showed me who I should care about, and who I needed to remove from my life. Finally, it reminded me that an act of kindness, however seemingly small, can be huge to the person on the receiving end. And for that I am glad. It was a true silver lining on what was really a hurricane-sized thunder cloud.