The Choice

This week the bombshell that isn't - the 'landmark study' linking childhood vaccines to autism has been proven (again) to be fraudulent. For many, this is news. For me, it's absolution. When my first son was first identified on the spectrum, I was pregnant with my second son. Well-meaning (and not so well-meaning) friends, family, and fellow new mothers fed me one cautionary tale after another - articles, books, virulent websites - on how vaccines had possibly damaged my first son and would do the same to my next one. Did they know how much pain it caused me, that guilt and fear? Probably not. But I wrestled with them both as I did my own exhaustive research, then made my choice. I had my second son follow the same vaccination regimen as the first, and was openly challenged by many. Everywhere I turned, it seemed that Jenny McCarthy, autism support groups, and 'mothers-in-the-know' of one type or another were decrying my choice, despite the mountain of science that declared the connection nonexistent. Who WAS this Dr. Wakefield guy, anyway? I explained my decision to one and all, whether they deserved an explanation and, at times, whether they asked for an explanation or not. Because in the darkest part of the night, I would lie awake haunted by doubts and fear.
My second son had his shots, and he developed normally. I put this battle aside, until now, and lived to fight another battle on another day. But millions of mothers lived in unnecessary fear, and priceless time and resources have been invested in battling paper soldiers. Tomorrow is my birthday, and when I blow out my candles, my wish will be for victory in the real battle.