Tag Archives: MRI

We Hit the Jackpot!

Day 7 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness

By guest blogger ZZ Mylar (San Antonio, Texas)

My husband and I always knew we wanted a big family.  After the birth of our first child, we waited just a year before trying again.  And kept trying.  And kept trying.  We were EPM 1heartbroken to find out that we had “secondary infertility” and that it would be difficult for us to get pregnant again.  After three more years of every procedure imaginable trying to conceive and countless prayers, God led us to adoption.  While adoption is a wild ride unto itself, we were blessed to be led to Las Vegas, Nevada for the birth of our second child … Emily “Presley” Mylar . . . what a Vegas win!  Her birth parents had been through some rough times and while they loved her very much, they knew they could not care for her in the same way that we could.  We were overjoyed to bring her back to our home in San Antonio, Texas, and our four-year-old daughter was thrilled to be a big sister.

Presley ruled the roost since day one.  She was vigorous and outgoing even as an infant.  She talked early, crawled early, and walked at 10 months old.  Starting at about 18 months, we thought she had hit the “terrible twos” early.  But she never outgrew them!  Her tantrums started getting worse and worse, and I would get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when she had one, convinced that something was wrong.  I even half jokingly told a friend of mine, “I bet she has a brain tumor!”

At age three and a half, Presley started having absence seizures.  Except we didn’t know what they were.  We thought she was ignoring us on purpose and being passive aggressive for a change.  We even punished her after these episodes.   Finally I called the doctor about what was happening and she had us come right in for a CT scan.  We got the call that night that Presley had TSC.  Of course this started endless research on my part and many doctors appointments to follow.  We saw a geneticist, neurologist, dermatologist, ophthalmologist, dentist, therapist, psychiatrist and a cardiologist.  We began trying seizure meds and finally went to the TSC clinic in Houston where they confirmed what all the other doctors had already told us.  Presley had TSC.

EPM2This diagnosis began to explain her crazy behavior and the white spots on her skin.  We found that she had tubers in her brain and we could expect a yearly brain MRI and renal ultrasound.  We were told that her heart was clear, but we should expect kidney and lung issues and tubers on her face, nails, eyes and teeth.  Her mental development could be stunted.  She may not lead a normal life, only time will tell.  Until then, hang in there, they told us.

Through the next couple of years, we did our best to manage her behavior, though it was very trying for all of us.  Luckily, her seizures stopped after a year (though the doctors assure us that they’ll be back with a vengeance at some time).

At age five, Presley began kindergarten, and we found out that she was very smart but had many social limitations.  This is when we began ADHD meds and her life (and ours) changed.  We began to see the sweet Presley we knew was in there somewhere and she began to make friends again.  Our family continued to grow (we have six kids now – yes, God has a sense of humor!) and the house was actually more peaceful than it had ever been.

Today Presley is an active fourth grader.  She takes quite a cocktail of meds each day to keep the Sweet Presley on the forefront and the Impulsive Presley buried down.  From Zoloft and Intunive, to very high doses of Focalin, we get a lot of looks and raised eyebrows from other doctors, but it is what is working for us.

As with many kids on ADHD meds, school gets the best of Presley.  By the time she gets home, she is tired and cranky and we’re not quite sure what to expect day-to-day, though EPM3this is getting better as she matures.  We found that she really needed an outlet to let off some steam and boy, did she find it!  Her impulsivity and anger are heightened being in tight spaces, but when she hits the soccer field, no one can stop her.  She has moved from YMCA teams to a club team here in San Antonio where she plays at a grade level higher than her own and at the top level of that age group.  She makes all As in school and gets excellent marks in leadership, manners, helpfulness and CONDUCT.  She has become a leader in her religious education classes and is wonderful (most of the time) with our younger children.  We could not be more proud of her.

I have been very hesitant to post on the TSC facebook pages because I realize how blessed we are.  I read about parents watching their kids struggle in school, socially or even to dress themselves.  I see posts about surgeries and hospitalizations and hear of drug therapies we know nothing about.  And I don’t feel worthy of telling our story.  My little girl has a pretty mild case of TSC, but it has hit our family hard.  We are blessed that she is bright, has not had kidney issues to date and has limited growths on her precious face, but her future health is not clear.

Whether we are dealing with mild or severe cases of this disease, we all have one thing in common: We want to kick TSC’s butt!  Our family prays for all of you affected by this disease.  We pray that Presley will continue to excel, to go to college without being tied to drug therapies and social boundaries, and to have a long and happy life.  We love our Presley . . . our big Vegas win, and we will fight for her to win against TSC.  Either way, we have truly hit the jackpot.

Alex’s Journey

Day 6 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness Month

By guest blogger Kelly Oberg  (Merrionette Park, Illinois)

make a wish 2013 kim sd card 092Looking at Alex you would never know there is anything wrong with him. Alex has blonde hair, blue eyes and a smile that will capture your heart from the start. Alex has always been such a happy little boy. No matter what he is going through, he always has a smile on his face. Even though Alex cannot vocalize his wants and needs, we as a family have learned how to communicate with him in different ways. And being strong parents, makes for a strong little boy, who is being given the best care and love that can be given to our special little angel. There are never enough words that I could find to describe the love I have for my son Alex. In the past three years he has taught so many people so many things. He has taught me so much, that in a lifetime with him I would never be able to repay him for all that he’s taught me. Alex was born July 14, 2009,  and the moment Alex was born he made an impact on everyone around him.

We were told when Alex was born that he had two holes in his heart and a heart murmur. The doctors were very hopeful that the holes would close before he reached two years old. The holes closed by the time Alex was a year old on their own. At this time we had thought that our prayers had been answered and Alex would be fine. Little did we know that there was another plan for us. I noticed early on that Alex was not big on sleeping; he would sleep for a hour then wake up screaming. He was also not hitting his developmental milestones like normal children would. After numerous trips to his doctor, we were told Alex was normal and just had colic. We knew it was not colic that we were seeing. It was something else, but as young parents we didn’t really know what it was that Alex was doing, other than not sleeping.  Alex has always been a big child with a big head and big body; he came into our lives at a whopping 9lbs 8 oz. But as he grew his doctor was concerned about his growth being so big, so she sent us in for an ultrasound of his brain. We found out Alex had calcifications on his brain and hydrocephalus. Hydrocephalus is when you have too much fluid on or around your brain, and his doctor told us we just had to monitor Alex; if over time it got worse, we would address it then.

In February 2010, we learned Alex had severe hearing loss in both ears. After a few hearing tests, the doctors told us it was nerve damage, and they didn’t know if he would ever be able to hear. They suggested we try putting tubes in his ears. We did get the tubes in March 2010, as well as his adenoids taken out. Alex started to vocalize then. It was like a whole new world was opened up to him when he could hear.

In June 2010, while taking a bath, Alex was not acting right, so we took him into his room and kept an eye on him. This is when I experienced seeing my first seizure. At the time Imake a wish 2013 kim sd card 050 had no idea what a seizure looked like. Alex was pale and laying so still on the bed just staring at the ceiling. I remember feeling so scared. I have never felt more scared than that moment looking at Alex. Within a minute or two, Alex came out of it and went to play. We watched him closely thinking he just didn’t feel well.  The rest of the month, Alex did this three more times. The third time we decided to go to the emergency room. After describing what we saw, the emergency room doctors told us that Alex had a seizure, and because he had a fever, it was just febrile seizures. Febrile seizures usually go away when you reach age 5, but when you have a fever as a child you have a seizure. The doctor told us he would grow out of it. We were relieved that he would grow out of it and everything would be okay.  In August 2010, on our third trip to the emergency room, the doctors grew concerned because now Alex was having seizures without the fever. The febrile seizures diagnosis was thrown out the window. They admitted Alex and ran a ton of tests from blood to urine to an MRI of Alex’s brain. The very next day, Alex’s pediatrician came into the room to talk to us. She said she had the results from all the tests but wanted to look at Alex for herself with this “wood light”. I agreed, and shortly after starting she stopped and sat down next to me. She started to cry and explain to me that the hospital staff of doctors, as well as her believe Alex had a disease called tuberous sclerosis.  As she cried, she told me that Alex’s life would be very short; he would not talk, would not walk, or do things a normal child would. She told me to have Alex get a blood test to confirm this diagnosis and then make an appointment with the genetic doctor of the hospital. We did that and saw the genetic doctor on October 1, 2010.

It was in that very appointment that I found a side of me I never knew I had. I found a strength I had never seen before, as well as a voice for Alex that I never knew I had before.  After not one, but two doctors told me my son would never walk or talk, let alone do anything a normal child could do, I made a promise to Alex that I would do everything in my being to allow him to have as normal of a life as I could give him, as well as get him the best care I could as far as doctors are concerned. A few days later I found the TS Alliance and found the TS clinic in Chicago, and ever since then I have never looked back. Alex now has a great team of doctors and nurses that know us and love Alex so very much.

Over the past two years, we found out Alex has severely obstructed sleep apnea,  and that is the reason why he has not slept his whole life. Two surgeries later and Alex’s apnea is worse than when we started. Alex’s seizures have become more frequent up to six times a day, even with taking two different medications to help control them. Alex’s neurologist suggested that Alex would be a great candidate for a vagal nerve stimulator.  A VNS is similar to a pacemaker but it is for the brain. It is hooked up to the vagal nerve in the neck and sends a pulse to the brain either at five-minute, three-minute, or one-minute intervals to help control the seizures. Alex was implanted on November 26, 2012, and the VNS was turned on Dec 6, 2012. Since the VNS was turned on we have not seen any seizures at all. We are off one of his seizure medications and almost off the other. This is a long-term help that we were in desperate need of.  After an MRI in August 2012 we learned that Alex’s two SEGAS we were monitoring had grown a lot over the past three months, and Alex was a candidate for a medication called Afinitor. Afinitor is a medication that, to me, is a miracle drug. It helps people with tuberous sclerosis complex, not only with the problem they are taking it for, but in many other aspects too. See, Afinitor has shrunk Alex’s SEGAS by 20 percent in only three months of taking it, as well as helped him be more focused and develop cognitively.

We know that we as a family have a long road ahead of us, but it’s because of Alex that we have the strength to keep going. Alex has been through so many MRIs, blood tests, and hospital stays that he has shown us what a true warrior is by staying so strong during all of it. I feel truly blessed to have Alex as my son; he is one amazing little man.

Diagnosed With TSC Less than a Month Ago

Day 5 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness Month

By guest blogger Heather Lens (Stillwell, Oklahoma)

I’m not sure where to begin except right here…

Our world forever changed on April 13, 2013. It actually kind of started the Wednesday before, right before church. I was feeding Maddie and she kind of had a twitch, but it Heather's familyhonestly didn’t look like anything more than that. By Friday I started noticing a small trend. She was twitching when she was getting tired so I went straight to the pediatrician. They were going to refer us to a pediatric neurologist in Tulsa for an EEG to rule out seizures. It was going to take a week to get into them. At the time it seemed like a good thing…If they aren’t getting us in that day it must not be anything too bad. Once again, they weren’t crazy seizure like activities.

By Friday night, Chris and I had noticed these movements were looking worse and her face was making different movements that we did not like. Saturday morning we headed straight to St. Francis Pediatric Trauma Center. It’s the nearest children’s hospital to us. We figured that they would be the best place to go if something was wrong, since it was a children’s center. They quickly got us admitted after seeing a video of one of her episodes, and that’s where everything went a little blurry. The first round of testing began… They drew blood to check her blood levels. They were thinking her potassium, electrolytes or sodium may have been off which could cause seizures. They then did a 20-minute EEG. Maddie did great with the test. She laid there like a champ as they hooked her up to 30 or so electrodes. I think Chris and I were hurting worse at that point. Seeing your beautiful perfect daughter hooked up is an awful feeling. Later on that day the doctor came in and broke the first part of our not so great news. Her EEG was abnormal and they confirmed that she had a diagnosis of infantile spasms which are caused by hypsarrhythmia. It’s where the brain sends of chaotic brain signals. Even though we thought something may be wrong, the news hit us like a ton of bricks. They were going to need to put on a EEG for 24 hours and monitor her by video as well.

The placement of the 24-hour EEG was the worst thing I have ever been through. Maddie was screaming, and Chris and I could only sit there and look at her while she was in such distress. It was the most helpless feeling ever. She ended up being on the EEG for over 30 hours. On the third day of our hospital stay they were going to do an ultrasound on her kidneys and abdomen to look for tumors that could be caused by a disease called tuberous sclerosis. They said that some babies who have IS can also have tuberous sclerosis. They also wanted to do an MRI to take a look at her brain. After finally getting the 24-hour EEG off, they took her back for her MRI, which was under sedation. It was another experience that no one should have to go through. She screamed as they sedated her and was fighting sleep so bad. She finally gave in and they took her limp body back to the room. My husband and I both broke down. Watching our perfect little girl look so lifeless was absolutely heartbreaking. We later got the results back from the ultrasound that there were no tumors on her ultrasound and we were thrilled! We just knew her MRI would come back clean. Unfortunately, we were wrong. The MRI came back with tumors on it. This news was the most devastating news our ears could hear…We looked down at our baby girl with tear-filled eyes. We didn’t understand how this could be happening to her and our family? She has been healthy and had been hitting her milestones. How on earth could this be real? After emotions of hurt, sadness, guilt and many more, we felt the prayers and realized that these conditions just make our precious girl that much more precious. We let it all out and then turned our eyes to the only one who can comfort us, God. We knew that we had been put in a crazy spot for a reason. God had entrusted Chris and I to take care of this precious girl because He KNEW THAT WE COULD DO IT. What an honor to be her parents! We know we have a lot of work ahead of us.There will be a trial of medicines to try and stop these spasms, and unfortunately TSC will be a condition she lives with. That being said, we know some people live a normal life with this disease. We are hoping for that, but will not be discouraged if that isn’t her path. We will change our normal and make it a new normal. I dislike the word normal anyway…Who wants to be normal? Not Miss Maddie!

“Whenever God gives you a gift, he wraps it up in a problem. The bigger the gift you have coming, the bigger problem you will receive. But the wonderful thing is that if you look for the gift, you will always find it.”

Please check out Heather’s blog at www.chrisandheatherplusone.blogspot.com

A second trip to Boston leaves me with lingering questions…

namely, Where was Cliff parking the mail truck when he went to Cheers? Having gone there on this trip, I’m not sure I buy that he was hanging out in a place that is so expensive to park.

At any rate, when I last left you I had gotten food poisoning in D.C. The next morning, Friday, I felt much better. No stomach pain, still off, but better. Once again I had cured myself in a day. And we wouldn’t even have to cancel the next day’s trip to Boston. Oh, oops. Fooled again, but went to Boston anyway. When I get to travel I can power through. Had we been at home, I’d have milked the bejesus out of the situation. But I lived. And lost a couple pounds.

This trip we extended for pleasure. We flew in Saturday, but weren’t needed by the study until Sunday night. We spent Saturday afternoon checking out Boston University since it was only a few blocks from our hotel. There was some sort of regional track meet going on and runners were there from several schools. In fact, some were staying in our hotel. Yeah, you know what’s coming. I officially crossed into “old.” I am no longer the one keeping people awake. I am now the one calling the front desk at 3 a.m. to report “those durn kids that just won’t keep it down.”

Sunday we went to check out Boston Common and the surrounding area. I was disappointed that all the water was drained and ruined my photo op. We came upon the cemetery where Paul Revere is buried. Too bad I’m not teaching anymore. Since for some reason the state of Georgia thinks he warrants six weeks worth of social studies unit (I’m not saying he isn’t history-worthy, just not six weeks worth), I could have used this photo when struggling for material, perhaps made up a story about digging him up at midnight and running through the streets screaming, “The zombies are coming!”

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Most importantly, we went to Cheers so I could have a beer. I went to Boston when I was 16 and couldn’t drink. It felt so wrong to go to Cheers and not have a beer, so I finally fulfilled that ridiculous dream, in spite of my funky stomach.


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When we had free time, we also checked out Chinatown, and we went to dinner at Ann Davison’s house, one of my former co-workers who moved to Boston last summer. This is the view about a block from her house:

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Back to the TSC study, which is the reason why we were up there–Sunday night (at 10:30!) we had to take him for an MRI. Since it’s for the study, it’s not sedated; it’s a sleep MRI. All my MRI knowledge comes from watching House. Remember those scenes? A person is in the tube and the doctors talk to him while he lays inside. Everyone shares deep thoughts, the doctors discover secrets about one another, and House has an unrelated epiphany and runs out. Turns out that television does not portray things very realistically. I wasn’t worried about getting him to sleep. That was a piece of cake. The problem was that since we had to stay in there with him, we were given ear plugs. Paranoid much? 45 minutes of whirring is gonna destroy my hearing? Please. Chris maybe. Took him three days to get his hearing back after I dragged him to Lady Gaga.

It turns out that an MRI doesn’t whir. It’s more of a cringe-inducing series of mechanical groans that reminded me of Ripley trying to blow up the spaceship in Aliens. So he woke up. We stopped, put him back to sleep and started again. He woke up. We stopped, put him back to sleep and started again. He woke up. We stopped, put him back to…well, you get the idea. Eventually we called it quits and decided we would be opting out of this portion of the study. I want to help, but you’ve got to be kidding me. One of the techs even crawled in there with him at one point to calm him.

We also had two days of testing, some of which were the same as what he did on his first trip. It was really great to watch because he has improved so much since last time. Plus, the last time he had two seizures, so he wasn’t to into it. We still haven’t seen a seizure since February 10! He was engaged, cooperative, and the difference was awesome. The only problem he really seemed to be having with the testing was that sometimes he was too busy flirting with the ladies administering it to do it. I looked forward to hearing how the scores would show how much better he was. Finally, the big reveal! And the scores show….regression! Regression? WTF. How is that possible? Here is why. The Mullen Scale is bullshit. Last time we were there, due to the seizures he got sleepy and some had to be completed by parent report. They no longer do that, which is understandable as I see how it could inflate scores. So this time, it had to be done in front of them. Yet, he can do more! How did he regress? Last time he could barely sit, and this time he sat the whole time! Well, the way they score it is that there are a series of things he must do to be scored on. If he doesn’t perform one item, they stop. So when they got to the item where he is supposed to lay on his stomach and reach for an item, he insisted on just rolling over every time because he hates being on his stomach. Therefore, he didn’t get credit for that, nor did he get credit for the following item. SITTING. I don’t know what items came after that, but he didn’t get a chance at those either. So he was rated at a 4-month level in motor skills. He is delayed, but he is NOT at a four-month level. So clearly this test isn’t going to be particularly helpful for our personal purposes. I’m happy to have him in the study and I like the ladies in charge, but the Mullen and I are not friends.

Connor’s physical therapist about flipped when I shared this with her. The Battelle test she uses on him requires three fails in a row in an area before you move on to a different section, not one. So while I had already dismissed the Mullen as a load of crap, her agreement made me feel even better. Some kids have splinter skills. Meaning they may lack a skill that should have come at an earlier age, but they have developed other skills that are more advanced. Connor is such a case. He can sit fully independently, maintain a standing position for at least a minute holding the couch, and as of his most recently PT session, he can also maintain a crawling position for a minute (we just gotta get him moving).

We also took the opportunity to have him seen in the Boston TSC clinic. Dr. Sahin looked him over and we did the Woods lamp test for the first time. Skin involvement is common in TSC, but Connor doesn’t have anything particularly noticeable. He did have some small raised white spots on his legs I suspected were TSC related, as well as a tiny white spot without pigment, but nothing I would have thought much of were it not for the TSC diagnosis. Dr. Sahin confirmed the little white bumps were tiny little shagreen patches, and the lamp revealed some other de-pigmented spots not visible to the naked eye. Nothing that really phased us. Perhaps there is a benefit to the possibility of him inheriting my pasty skin rather than Chris’s ability to tan. His white spots will be less noticeable. He also looked over the MRI that was done right before Connor’s surgery. He said he was too young for it to be a great MRI, but he did point out some tubers, and the SEN’s Connor has were very, very small. SEN’s are the brain growths that have the potential to grow and become SEGAs  which can be very serious, needing surgery or the drug Afinitor, so it was good to hear his are particularly small. His social area of the brain also looked good. Connor will have his annual clinical MRI with them next time we go in August. We should be able to tell a lot more about what areas are affected then.

Chilling in the Boston suite.
Chilling in the Boston suite.

We cut our trip short by a day due to the storm that was supposed to hit. Naturally, that meant the storm ended up being downgraded. You’re welcome, Boston.

Random thought for the day: I think Connor should have been the e-Trade baby.

The NICU

Right after birth.

It turns out that if you spend 9 months growing a baby with Oreos (along with the requisite veggies, fruits and grains of course!), even if you significantly reduce your Oreo intake for the following 6 months, you will not be able to then jump on an elliptical and resume your previous 45 minute routine. In fact, after 4 minutes, you will probably have a near death experience. Just a random observation for today.

Soooo picking up from yesterday, the seizures began around 5 or 6. We hadn’t seen him for several hours because of both the regular newborn checkup and the cardiac one. It was actually reaching a point of, “Where is my baby?” frustration. And let me say, care at Northside Hospital is excellent. Communication between floors and departments…not so much. When we started trying to locate him, nobody could find him. We were told to call this nursery, then that and he’d always already been moved. I was told to ask my nurse.  She didn’t know either. This went on for a bit, and then I heard it. Chris was downstairs trying unsuccessfully to locate him as the alarm went off alerting the floor that a baby had been taken past the boundaries. Chris couldn’t get the elevator because they were on lockdown, and then he heard a security guard mumbling into a walkie talkie, saying something that certainly alluded to a baby being missing. This was the last straw that lead to Chris’s very loud and public demand to know where Connor was. And this is when they located him and informed us of the seizures. (The alarm was a staff member accidentally passing the boundary and would happen a couple more times while we were there. No missing babies!)

I wish I had written about this at the time because the emotions are hard to recapture 6 months later. But I could barely talk out loud about it for a couple months. But as scary as it was, we were still in the mindset of, okay, they’ll get these meds going and he’ll be home in a few more days. Well, a few more days stretched into 5 long weeks as the seizures were incredibly resistant to the medication, a hallmark of TSC. He started on phenabarbitol, then Keppra was added, and by the time he left he was on Dilantin as well. But he was still having an extraordinary number of seizures a day. At least 80 a day, maybe more. Many of them were subclinical which means only an EEG can detect it. They don’t cause the outward jerking. At this point it looked like we were gonna have to go on the surgery, so he was transferred across the street to Scottish Rite. I could have carried him over, yet it involved a $1500 ambulance transfer. Thank God for insurance.

I can’t believe there was a time when it was taxing to feed him 2 ounces (due to medication induced sleepiness) considering he’s now 6 months old and wearing 12-18 month clothing.

We met with his potential surgeon Dr. Chern at Scottish Rite. At this point we were finally miraculously seeing some improvement with the meds. He was still having a number of seizures, mostly subclinical, but it was decided that the benefits of waiting to do the surgery when he was bigger outweighed the cons. It would be safer in a few months. So after 5 weeks of driving to the hospital every day, he was finally released on April 23, 2012. And I have to say my husband got me through this. He was a rock. He had his moments, but I would have lost my mind without him. Just the simple fact of having a sick child is scary enough, but on top of that it shattered that “it can’t happen to me” belief that gets many of us through life. I’m a worrier by nature. Takeoff makes me nervous and the word cancer makes my stomach turn. And yet I still fly and could improve some health habits. Now for the first time, I truly realized that anything can happen to anyone at anytime. My plane could crash. I could actually get cancer. Fortunately we had so many other family and friends there to support us through all this. So thank you to all of you.

He never exactly had issues eating, but he would be so sleepy from meds and seizures that a feeding tube was used from time to time.

Connor’s official diagnosis wouldn’t come for several weeks. That’s the genetic test confirming his TSC, but from the rhabdomyoma in the heart, and the seizures, tuberous sclerosis was the immediate thought. He subsequently had an MRI for his brain, a kidney ultrasound, and an eye exam as those are areas most commonly affected. Thank God his kidneys and eyes were clear. But clearly the brain wouldn’t be. The tubers, including the one that would be surgically removed were evident. For my next entry I will get into the specifics of what TSC is.

Breastfeeding never worked out with all that was going on, so I pumped for the next 3 months until I couldn’t take being attached to the machine anymore. But it may have been for the best considering I had to carefully time my glasses of wine around pumping. Otherwise I probably would have knocked out a bottle on a nightly basis. When I tried going online for advice, I was shocked by how harsh and nasty a lot of the hardcore breastfeeding community is. It left me with a lot of guilt when I finally quit, but I had to for my mental state. It also left me disappointed that there was yet one more way in which women can be extremely unsupportive of other women. It’s easy to judge when everything goes hunky dory according to plan, isn’t it? I still have hostility about it. But women need to know that it’s extremely common to have problems with latching, pain, lactation failure, and many other things. So NYC’s Mayor Bloomberg can stick it where the sun don’t shine.

I can’t remember if this particular EEG was 24 or 48 hours.