You have no idea what I would give right now to go back in time to the day our son was born. To see and hold his tiny body against my chest and to keep him close and safe.
I’d get it right this time. I would. I wouldn’t sign the paper. I wouldn’t give them permission to inject him with aluminum and formaldehyde and a foreign virus that he’d have no chance of contracting as an infant or boy. I wouldn’t let the nurses near him, and I would hold him close the entire time just to be sure.
I wish I could go back to those doctor visits at 2 months and 4 months, and 6 months, and 9 months and 15 months, the ones they told me he had to have in order to be “healthy.” I would know what to do this time. I would read the inserts and know exactly what was in each and every single vial. I would know the risks. And I would know that it’s okay to say “no”–regardless of the doctor’s threats.
If I could go back in time, I would not hand him over. Not for a second. I would hold my baby close and keep the mercury and toxic poisons away.
Oh, how I wish I could go back. I wish I could take away his pain, his frustrations, his struggles, his hurt.
I wish I could have known what to do–right from the beginning. I wish I could have known the TRUTH.
And although I don’t usually let my mind go there; I don’t usually stand in the chasm between what is and what could have been. Today, I wish more than anything that I could go back in time.
I would take my baby in my arms. I would hold him close and never let him go.
Read our story here.
In Christ alone, my hope is found . . .