A trouble had happened two months before I give birth. After eating of some fatty wild boar meat (wild fat was considered natural, therefore - beneficial[1]) and some slightly fermented cowberries, I felt very bad in the morning. Intolerable spasms came and my stomach was definitely out of order. Barely restraining myself from screaming, I went through my mind trying to choose something I could help myself with and was afraid to make things worse. I stayed hungry until the evening, completely weakened from pain, vomiting and suffering from diarrhoea. Sasha was shocked by the abundance of stench pouring out of me and carried many basins to the toilet. Once he gave a hint about ambulance calling and I continued his thought:
- What do they do with these symptoms? That's right, they take to the hospital, do not let out for two weeks and treat with various medicines.
We both understood what my child and I were threatened with, and even such innocuous appointment as glucose injection into a vein - could have ended badly for us. By evening they stopped determination of things applied to calm the pancreatic raging. I ate some partridge without liver bothering and several spasms come to ought. I prayed to the God about one thing after the end of all those matters. The only desire was for labor pains not to begin. My organism managed to handle the situation. An investigation was conducted staying true to myself without any delay. Why, for what sin?
The neighbour Sveta was full of sympathy; she brought me a quarter of hare, killed by her husband, who had been a hunter. For some reason, I put it aside and decided to starve until the evening having dreamed that the taste of hare had been similar to boar meat with a kind of smoke and salt.
In the meantime I leafed through the book of A. Pokrovskiy "Conversations about nutrition" and "Handbook for dieters and cooks".
This time, my "discovery" was related to choline - a vitamin responsible for release of fat from the liver (deficiency of choline leads to degeneration and hypertrophy of kidneys). According to the need for it, choline is the champion in the whole organism (500-1000 mg per day!). Why am I so careless about numbers?
It was necessary to notice this fact earlier, in due time ... It would have been rather hard since many nutritionists did not mention vitamins (which stay in the first place for daily needs) in their reviews! Here is a whole couple: cholesterol - choline. The more fat we eat, the more choline shall be generated. Cholesterol, which is currently pushed into the image of the enemy, is very necessary for formation of sex hormones, adrenal hormones, bile acids. Its excess does not arise from surplus meat, as some researchers imagine. "An average of 0.5 g of cholesterol per day is received with food, and 1.5-2 g is produced in the body itself (i.e., significantly more). Cholesterol is formed in the liver from metabolic products of fats and carbohydrates. Its drastic restriction in a diet leads to an increase in formation in the body[2]". The more carbohydrates and fat we eat the more cholesterol is generated in our organism. Ice fat is also responsible for the excess cholesterol, as well as all our food, based on carbohydrate grains and potatoes. A common symbol, related to products: earn for a piece of bread and even butter - becomes just the right formula for formation of excess cholesterol (our usual diet is full of such formulas: fried potatoes, pancakes, fried soup, not to mention holiday cakes).
Let's just compare some products: brains, which contain a record amount of cholesterol, also include a huge proportion of choline, the amount of cholesterol in the liver (270 mg per 100 g of the product) overlaps that of choline (635 mg), there is more cholesterol than choline in curd cheese and the ration is almost twice in other cheeses. No words to say about butter! Its ratio is more than in case of beef, lamb or pork fat.
I cut a small piece off and chewed it after inspecting a hare's leg without any drop of fat, carefully sniffing everything. The was no stunning taste or flavour. It was neutral, but not tasteless. Slightly reminiscent of river fish. I cooked a little slice out of curiosity, maybe that way a particular smell could be revealed. No, not at all, it tasted like wild boar or duck. Just what I needed right at that moment.
The plans included giving birth under my mom's wing, in Shakhty; according to the prediction of doctors - in early February, according to my calculations - two weeks earlier. Sasha and I quietly and peacefully intended to celebrate the New Year in Oryol and then - begin our travel. I settled down closer to midnight on December 28 and was very pleased with my purchases, trying to locate my belly more comfortably. The boy didn’t want to sleep inside, maybe he didn’t like the abundance of cowberry eaten by me, in general he did not recognize vegetable food and kicked right under the liver. This time activity took place in the abdomen and something burst and flowed out of me after a particularly strong one. "One more month ... eight-months survive ... I'll bring a child not staying with mom...", - a kind of whirlwind flashed inside. Had to call someone: "Sasha, wake up, please, go to the emergency, call someone..."
In that voluntary surrender to the mercy of doctors I was afraid of everything: they would make an injection of something which would break the whole procedure. Mom convinced me that women were not injected with anything in a normal situation. The worst matter was related to vulnerability of my child. A familiar nurse of the newborn ward easily said that they customarily gave children some dimedrol so not to interfere with sleeping; they also fee them with glucose. Since birth in water or with a family doctor had not been available at the moment, my most cherished dream was not only related to safe labor but also to leaving the hospital with a living child and as soon as possible. I managed to identify a nurse approaching me with a syringe in the prenatal ward, when I did not see a light of white because of pain. I stopped her with a prepared phrase: "I have a drug allergy, you can not inject anything."
- It is necessary to take some blood in order to learn its type, - I put my hand up and looked at her. The doctor had already been warned.
The deliveries were swift and I had been counting on this with my good sensitivity, reactivity and quality of food. I thought about the impossible suspecting that my heart could hardly withstand suffering, stretched for a day or more. Therefore, it was only possible to hold onto a glass of water and slightly moisten the mouth despite the fact that the thirst was very great. I had stayed in the prenatal ward just for forty minutes and had experienced things from which, probably, the Earth suffered when a volcano erupted.
- Just the head passes the uterus.
Finally a doctor came up to me.
- Faster! Come on, hold on to me!
Getting on the table, I noticed that they had made a white bed, unlike in case of all other mothers. It became clear why when they slashed me with a scalpel.
- Come on! - finally he yelled on hands of a maternity nurse - he was mine!
- The boy, full-term, cried at once, - the doctor said with joyful surprise, - Wait a little, I'll sew, if you are allergic, then you have to go without Novocain ...
The pain wasn’t really felt at that moment!
Turning my head, I looked at how my son was weighed, sprinkled and swaddled - then - how reanimation activities were done to the neighbour's baby... I stayed in the delivery room for two hours, surrounded by ice and was taken to the ward on a numbered bed. Its location was extreme: near the window and heater.
A few minutes later I understood all horrors of my position: it was burning with might and main, there was nowhere to hide or move away. I asked everybody who came to me in white overalls to help to move to another bed - there were a dozen of free positions. They explained to me that there was a very strict order of numbers in maternity hospitals, including in the children's ward. Realizing that children might be confused, I immediately stopped my requests and one compassionate nurse brought a blanket to close the radiator. The comfort was short-lived, the next item was a conversation with the doctor who controlled my condition. Having reported about my total drug intolerance and agreed only with application of iodine water for a wound, I warned that I had been on a special diet which had included natural meat only. The word “raw”was not applied intentionally in order not to exacerbate the situation and receive “good” together with the confidence that I would not die of hunger at least in the coming days.
Despite the scientific publications, proving the need for contacts of a child with the mother in the first hours after birth, all newborns were brought here only on the second or on the third day. The colostrum was just poured into sinks. Nurses fed them with considerable doses of immunity stimulators and nutrients, the children were silenced with boiled milk and diluted glucose. Women, gathered together on the eve of the New Year's Eve, had to live according to rules of the institution. Lights were turned on every day at five in the morning and everyone was preparing for the feeding. They brought all children at six, then women slept until the next feeding - up to 9 AM. A three-hour pause alternated with a six-hour one at midnight. None of the mothers grumbled, they did not recall the fate which had thrown them in the hospital in the New Year eve. The things which had happened to each were apparently more than a holiday. I felt the same, despite all the hindrances, trying to follow the example of others on the next day. I barely lowered my legs to the floor (couldn’t sit down too!) in order to get up to the sink and stood in place because of pain and confusion: blood was pouring down my legs, reaching the floor. Tried to wipe my legs, being angry with myself and doctors. Why did they have to cut me? A child with the weight of 2.5 kilograms, everything went well, what had they been afraid of?
“How old? 29?” - the doctor on duty asked on the next day, “Then it’s clear why did they make a cut”.
The pattern was understood - it was easier.
I had to eat in public for the first time - for several days in a row, so it was better to uncover oneself immediately, rather plunging into water in a flash, than waiting for exposing and whispering. "Luck" was on my side and the nearest neighbour couldn't stand even a view of the raw meat; I tried not to coincide with her, she consumed homemade food, red apples, her baby constantly had diarrhoea after feeding. Vitamins are connected with vitamin C and apples in the view of many people for some reason. These products are sweet, stuffed with various fertilizing. A half of the ward ran to look and taste when I ate cowberry, although these berries grew much closer to Oryol in comparison with imported fruits ...
What was the greater joy to be imagined than to celebrate the New Year? Mothers asked nurses to allow feeding of children to be prolonged in order to stay together at the midnight, the latter refused, taking kids away 15 minutes before twelve o'clock, apparently being keen to free themselves from work and celebrate the holiday in the company of colleagues. Well, I had a kind of company too - Sasha's notes and white sheets applied to write to him. To write about the most important matter for us - our son. One day, they brought the children for feeding as usual, however, this procedure had not concerned me yet: I had been ordered to get ready, that's why I had just stayed in the ward and looked: these swaddled dolls... they were the same - it wasn't possible to tell one from another. No, that was not right, one shone out, he had a big nose. This "big-nose" was brought to me, and they put him on my side having read the name on his label. I spread a white diaper, pulled a kerchief on and looked at my treasure being stunned by happiness. Of course, I wanted to kiss him, but where? He had an indescribably tiny mouth, half-hidden diaper cheeks and forehead, such a small gentle creature and it was very scary to touch him. I kissed his nose. The neighbour Ira brought me to the ground: "What are you...?! Feed him ... " I sat closer somehow and began tickling of tiny lips with a nipple - take it, try some milk! His mouth moved, but did not open, and the eyes were closed too. I wondered what colour they had been. "Cover his nose, advises Ira, he will open his mouth". The mouth was opened, but there was nothing like sucking. I provided a drop of milk, he seemed to swallow it and slept again. The second feeding - the same story, no interest to food. We asked nurses based on my initiative:
- Do you feed them?
- Well, yes, we feed with your milk and diluted glucose if there is not enough milk.
- And mine, twenty-ninth, was he provided with it?
- Yes.
- Did he cry?
- No, just opened the mouth, I gave some - answered a young cheerful hospital worker. The child was swollen and red.
- I beg you, do not feed my son, he does not take my milk.
- And mine...
- And mine...
A week in the hospital at the Posadskaya street is remembered as deafening happiness after many years. Many aspects were forgotten: intolerable stuffiness in the ward, stressful feelings, self-awareness as a loner among a group of satisfied women. I clarified some release conditions: a child must meet the set standards: my son was supposed to gain weight while staying inside the hospital. A newborn, coming out of the aquatic environment into the atmosphere, loses mass for several days, "dries out" - in other words. Only then the weight gain begins. Children were constantly (according to the doctor's advice) fed with the 5% glucose solution in order to speed up the process. The absurdity of colostrum replacement with sweet water caused my public tirade against the doctors. The girls supported me in every word, repeating the official argument: why did we need any increase in weight. They wanted to be released, however, specialists knew better. I reached the state of an argument together with 18-year-old patients, we said that doctors did not always know the situation, we should have thought with our heads too. A woman intervened in the conversation, she was the military's wife:
- How are you going to feed your son - how do you eat?
- I do not know for sure yet. I want to breastfeed as long as possible - maybe up to five years. It may be also required to provide everything natural: berries, fruits, mushrooms, nuts ...
- Well, the doctor will recommend egg yolks at the age of three and half, what will you do?
- I won't say "Understood!". Firstly, I will think, to feed or not to feed.
“A good mother will not experiment on a child” - the wife said almost to herself.
The dispute was not over, it was still led with everyone who believed to doctors and inventors of baby food unconditionally ... (In fact, why was I so angry with doctors? Me and Andrey left the hospital fast and in good time. A few years later, several newborns died through the doctors' faults in another Russian maternity hospital: the doctors had decided to support their health state by giving glucose not to the mouth, rather applying injections...).
- Tell me, aren't you afraid? - asked one of the girls. - Well, if you are sick, or your child is...
- The events have been constantly reversed in my life: first I got sick, I recovered myself (did all experiments with myself) and then I gave birth to a healthy child ... What are we arguing about, girls? Would you eat hare meat? How about some goose or wild boar in foil? The problem was that these dishes were rare, they were not enough for everyone ..
I was healed like some dog (maybe, because of my "wolf" food), all stitches were removed, but they were not releasing me: the child did not meet determined standards. It was a post-holiday check by the head physician. Having entered the ward, she opened a door of the refrigerator, probably striving to the comprehensiveness of master's inspection: she checked whether there was anything forbidden there, for example - smoked sausages or cakes. The freezer was opened too: a piece of meat was left there, brought by one of the employees, wrapped in foil. A non-completely eaten deer bone was mine.
A brilliant piece of paper caught her eye, it was exactly that piece.
- What is it? Who has taken it here? - the doctor asked in a panic.
- It's mine! - answered I
- Then you will eat it at home! - all food was thrown to waste.
“Then we shall leave the hospital”, - said I holding tears back,
Svetlana Viktorovna had been warned by me and quietly explained that I had a disease and special diet, she was also dumbfounded and did not know that I was eating raw meat. When doctors stopped near my bed, the main one excused herself and quickly settled all problems with the release.
I saw how many of my ward-mates trembled and frowned when their child took a nipple. (Ira covered cracks with brilliant green and the child's mouth turned green too). I did not know such suffering for the simple reason: my son did not consume my milk in the hospital.
Having spent much time at the hands of grandmother Nina in the place of residence, he often got hungry and clung to me, obtaining "food" diligently. Feeding became a kind of problem at once - I shivered for a few days until my nipple hardened.
The main problem after giving birth was related to feeding: how would the baby take my breast, would he consume enough milk... Standard misfortunes of an urban thin person: small breasts, non-articulated nipples - I watched with a beating heart as he fitted them in his mouth and they obeyed him, acquiring prominence and hardness, which was rather necessary at the moment. I felt milk filling the breast and dripping after a good piece of Manchurian deer meat. It even began to flow in a thin stream due to the small volume of a "storage". I covered breasts with a rag and milk was wasted for nothing. The organism really frustrated by the need to maintain the regime. My son began to suck continuously as if he felt that he was being cheated in his lawfully owned resource. He followed the power of dreaming and slept in the crib at night, waking up and eating only a couple of times. I often tried to get away from sleeping Andrey into the kitchen in the afternoon as soon as I had considered the feeding to be finished, but he always began screaming, took a nipple and got asleep again, not letting me to leave him, however, it became possible to reread as many books as I hadn’t had time to. We kept on a diet consisted of imported meat within the term of up to three and half months. My main experience was related to deliberations whether Sasha could go to Moscow, whether there was enough money. My mother visited the capital twice, still disapproving my menu and seeing the threat of starvation in such an attachment to the assortment of metropolitan special-type stores.
She left after spending a month with me and all problems remained at my place of stay: the search for meat became more difficult by spring and by the end of the hunting season, the son sucked both breasts more and more often during one feeding and they did not have enough time to be filled up with the next portion. Raw beef was sharply different from other food by a set of fermentation smells; I could not swallow it without cooking. There were not enough products either in terms of quantity or quality ... Complementary feeding choices were tested on Andrey from the first days of his life. A friend advised: "Why are you staying tormented? You need to provide him with artificial mixtures, he will sleep half a day!". I think it is unnecessary to explain that I never seriously took into account dry baby food: these were products which were the most inconsistent with our nature. A human could not invent anything predominant. Back in the days when I had followed Walker, I had believed in the goat milk he had recommended to drink and had brought it for my unborn child. The cow's milk had been located very low in the hierarchy of my personal values, until Seryozha Semin told about his case.
The milk had not been created by the organism of the mother who had given birth to Seryozha, the child was weakened and she set off on a difficult journey to the village in despair. There she fed her son with fresh cow milk and doctors did not recognize the boy after a few months. In such a way this product could also be allowed, I noted to myself, the main thing was not to boil it.
I had succeeded in the era of goat meat priority as regards the knowledge of goat owner locations, but at that moment I needed only in the nearest ones since it wasn't real to cross the whole city every day; Andrey liked the goat's milk, I replaced a couple of feedings in order to have time to gather my own; my son turned from human to animal one gradually and clearly expressed discontent with the breast. He usually made diapers dirty five or six times instead of once a day, but I was freed from the sword of Damocles constantly hanging over me: whether I would buy meat, whether they would provide enough milk.
According to books, it was necessary to give fruit juices, vegetable mash, egg yolks first of all and addition of minced meat and broth became possible only by the age of eight months. Natural path followers often bring recommendations, that children require live fruits in addition to milk so the first thing I decided to provide to Andrey was strawberry with a drop of honey... The long-awaited time of Sasha’s holiday came in July together with an opportunity to take Andrey to grandparents. I noticed that something was wrong in the car: my son worried a lot, he had a fever and was sweating all night ... It was necessary to reach the destination as fast as possible. He had been living without any problems for more than six months and I experienced what a child’s illness was for the first time. After the fever had disappeared, we found that the lower rib was bulging slightly. He couldn’t be hit anywhere —just didn't have any opportunities to crawl. I rushed to the children's clinic immediately: the doctor shrugged her shoulders and sent us to the city hospital in order to get a consultation. The young specialist examined us and set the diagnosis immediately: "Beaded ribs. How do you feed him?" She gave the advice that goat milk had coarser protein in comparison with cow's and should be given only after a year, and honey was very dangerous in the sense of allergy. The dialogue was carried on with a sceptical smile, after listening to my admission that there had been almost no milk in the ration and goat meat, berries and honey had been used for feeding. The conversation was rounded out by a kind of admonition addressed to me: "Need to read more!"[3].
Well, there was hardly any doubt in the diagnosis - I had turned for such help. Another matter was related to its reasons. Not accepting a version of the doctor and advice to transfer to the mixture, I must now admit that the reason was, after all, related to feeding: goat's milk, berries, honey. Beaded ribs occur in case of a shortage in vitamin D and entire complex of fat-soluble vitamins (E, F - in human milk, not in animal milk). Let's also suppose other factors:
1. Not enough sun exposure;
2. Not enough animal protein (milk, eggs, meat);
3. Honey and goat's milk change the acid-base environment observed in the stomach by virtue of their sweetness and the protein is absorbed poorly.
Honey and mushrooms, therefore, become "dangerous" because they tune digestion on a certain group of natural products very clearly. Why do people who have experience of collecting mushrooms get poisoned and claim that they intoxicated themselves with edible mushrooms? 23 citizens once died at the same time from mushroom poisoning in the Voronezh region - an unknown substance affected liver and kidneys, they were completely decomposed. It happened not because mushrooms had become aliens to both the liver and kidneys (the cancer tumour is "owned" by an organism in such case too since it is not killed by the immunity and the immunity does not even try to eliminate it! There is a natural conjecture: maybe something happens not only with mushrooms, but also with us. If human muscle proteins are renewed for 158 days, then liver and plasma proteins are updated every 10 days. It is easy to calculate that the number of incorrect updates coming from distorted food becomes fatal to the liver for a short period of the person's life; our organism becomes vulnerable and very sensitive to another effects, even if they are “correct”. At the beginning of the century the fly agaric was an edible mushroom and delphacid plant hoppers were rejected from the ration. Moreover, the existence of so-called "fungi for alcohol abstainers" suggests hostility of fungi to slags received from the civilized food: fermentation products, etc...
My "nestling" opened his mouth, gladly taking apricots, currants, mulberry ... the temperature increased again, all traditional antipyretic means - raspberries, red currants - only worsened the situation. Remembering my vegetarian period, I refused to feed Andrey with honey completely, the high temperature was decreased by means of brewed willow twigs - the personal medicine, which had been even declared back in the womb. Goat's milk was mixed with cow's and soon we switched to the latter since the first was harder to get.
Andrey drank any milk without a difference, not highlighting any reaction or behaviour. We tried rabbit meat and liver from eight months, as it should be.
Mom insisted on porridge: she cooked oatmeal one, it was like jelly. No effect. The next day my mother persuaded to give more, the temperature climbed to forty on the third 24-hour period. I was in a state of panic and decided to give the amidopirin's quarter (the effect lasted for only half an hour)
“Mom, the matter is in the porridge,” I repeated.
- How can the temperature rise because of porridge, - mom reasoned: maybe he had caught a cold.
Once being at work, my mother called a friend in the children's department, she confirmed that abdominal distension may also cause a temperature increase. The belly was hard as a drum. It seemed that we did not dare to provide an enema, carrying out massage only. Defecation occurred several times and the temperature fell.
My mother did not retreat after the porridge failure: she recognized that the first time we had gone too far. At that moment we should go easy, however, her personal method remained a necessity! The postulates of a separate diet came to my mind as a revelation - if you give something, then provide it separately: milk or boiled cereal (sprouted grains are better). There was no matter to hurry, I should have waited for necessary strength to be gained ... Indeed, a spoon of buckwheat, eaten by Andrey apart from milk, did not cause any temperature problems, rather providing green diarrhoea. Why should I torment him? Vitamins? Everything we need is concentrated in milk, everything - except for vitamin C - is also available in meat. Show me a child who likes eating cereals - all these semolina, oatmeal and other ones strongly recommended by nutritionists. Let's face it, I was such child: omitting the sickly period of up to 12, I did not suffer from any lack of appetite further, especially eating pancakes and pastries. Every kind of porridge with simple addition of more sugar and butter was really appreciated... Of course, my food model can not represent a certain sample, my taste is not a tuning fork, it's easier for me to admit it, however, it was like living anew for mom. My mother took a word from me that I would teach Andrey to get used to porridges in Oryol - little by little - little by little.
I usually brought milk to the boil, pouring a pinch of semolina - a person eating it would hardly determine by eye whether it was a real milk or porridge. A few hours after feeding Andrey was not himself - of course: the temperature of 37.2 came together with high sweating and worrying in the course of sleeping... People with high morals, please, tell me if I was correct.
How can we call such experiments on a child? After all, I performed only dietary science commands acknowledged by everyone!
There was a reason that Andrey badly reacted to all vegetable food[4]. Perhaps because the basis of this food - cow's milk - was very different from women's: it contained more vitamin C and cholesterol, but less vitamin E and unsaturated fats. The great amount of vitamin C involves a situation when vegetables are not perceived, there is much cholesterol and it is impossible to consume fats and such meat as pork. No, I didn’t think about pork at the moment: I played chess badly and also didn't try to foresee my life...
Closer to spring (Andrey was at the age of one year and half) I came across wild boar meat in the store and immediately bought it in the volume, allowed by my money. I decided to please my son with new products instead of trying a customary rabbit. Any negative effects were not noticed either on that day or on the next.
Subsequently Andrey felt ill a bit, but I did not associate this fact with food: forest meat didn't even have a drop of fat. I cooked a little bit more and fever rose after a while. There weren’t any worries again and we didn’t even try to clean the baby’s stomach. I certainly missed the fact in which I was convinced personally together with Sasha more than once: a product could be digested perfectly at the assimilation stage, but troubles could begin in a day two or three directly at the purification stage... Two days later we called the doctor unable to cope with the temperature. Having checked the lungs and having made sure that Andrey was not ill and did not suffer from pneumonia, the doctor predicted quick elimination of fever, provided a cefecone suppository for an emergency case and convinced us that the temperature should not be brought down by medicine if it was less than 38 (the high one heals - I knew this fact from my mother).
When staying in the maternity hospital, I could not assume what my baby would choose and how his body would react to particles of the environment, called food. My relatives accused me of tyranny, trying to change my food policy, which had been started long before Andrey was born and had not been related to living according to a standard leading to illnesses. I was rather listening to myself and nurturing the body's mind. My organism was also sure of one thing: I wanted and tried to establish a contact of my creation with the world around me: so that he would gain strength and health, so that diseases which could destroy him ahead of time would not penetrate into the foundation of an organism under construction... Andrey was like all children with a non-covered fonticulus, a living nerve, a tuning fork with a clear sound, which we diligently distort.
I saw a line in the children's department a couple of times when waiting for my turn on a radiotherapy session at the oncology centre. Each of the sick women sitting with me faded away and thanked the arbiter of fate for not coming to the end of this line. She was even ready to bring the soul to anyone in order to get out of that institution with a healthy child as soon as possible and forget everything as a nightmare. Oncologists often cite the comforting figures of childhood curing, but who can become interested in a way these “cured” children continue to live, what joy do they have in life? I have no right to be offended by medicine: I was saved, like thousands of others. I did not know any other way to recovery at that time - many books were published in our country but their number did not include folk doctor papers: Bragg, Chelton, immigrant Morozova. Now, when I have enough knowledge, I will do everything, as far as the understanding of a city woman is sufficient, so that my child does not live in a way I lived rather long ...
Reading these lines, you may believe that I am building a kind of pedestal, towering above any other omniscience. The more I know and understand it, the more I feel addicted to what people do. Two years after the birth of Andrey I lost faith in myself being rational, because I was only a part of the unreasonable sea of people. I wasn't still sure of the absolute health of Andrey. Carrying my son under my heart, I tried to be closer to the nature - to berries and mushrooms, not realizing that they concealed an invisible, indistinguishable threat which had been especially dangerous for the nascent life: the Chernobyl catastrophe. Data on the radiation situation in Oryol and Bryansk (where I often went for berries) would be published much later ...
I put all "pleasant" memories associated with filling of the "exchange card of a pregnant woman": arrogant words of a nurse "where have you been", ordeals caused by doctors, little stress provided by the main maternity doctor - and decided: I would go to doctors two weeks before giving birth, not earlier next time. The “next time” came unexpectedly ...
If you add three years to my mother's birthday, you’ll get Tolya’s (brother) date of birth, three years later - Vova (brother) was born, Lina (sister) - three more years later ... The only exception will be formed only by years of war. Seven children appeared at approximately equal intervals. Grandmother Nyura breastfed her babies for up to the age of two; menstruation appeared each time after she had stopped feeding completely. Natural self-regulation and natural mind were combined in a single person. Only monkeys breed year-round in the animal world, for other animals this time is limited to a month or two, bears mate once every two years, the fecundity of hares depends on the climate and forage conditions. Communities of people, which are still closely associated with wildlife, also have some taboos: a woman who has given birth to a child should not sleep with her husband until her child gets on the feet.
I was confident in the awakened mind which lived inside me and wanted to feed Andrey a little longer, also protecting myself for some time. Milk was like water and breast indurations forced me to stop the procedure after six months. Periods came two months later and I was pregnant again after a year. Irregular menstruations brought confusion and guessing began only at the third month, the dream told me again that I was carrying a girl. My daughter appeared in it in the image of a neighbour's girl, Andrey's friend. I washed her in my dream and turned to be rude somehow. Born children mean more than unborn: I neglected my (and, therefore, her) needs, trying not to spend a lot of money on my food ...
Staying with my mother I was surrounded by a constant flow of fruits in summer: mulberries, apricots, cherries, pears, peaches. It was only necessary to think of how I would consume this fruit mass without disturbing the internal balance. I looked at samples from the world of wild animals. Bears are almost vegetarians in summer; they balance vegetables with ants, larvae, frogs. Hominids, eating sweet fruits, also consume small animals. I have never heard about people eating ants or mice, the situation was somehow similar with frogs. Someone can order a gourmet frog dish somewhere in restaurants. Therefore, I would not die either. If we count all frogs living on 1 square kilometre of natural space in Russia, then their mass will balance the moose habiting the same area. It was not in my power to consume moose meat, but no one could take away frogs from me.
Mom has studied their hearts in a class at the medical institute in her student youth; I tried to ask her to help me. Frogs jumped in a multitude around the yard and stood unaware of my predatory interest in them. Having conducted a preliminary conversation long before the departure, I gave Sasha a can and sent him to the hunt. In such a way three unpleasant difficulties were divided between three people and the final one was left: to eat. Sasha caught, my mother prepared and it was my turn. Oh, was it there anything to eat? A huge belly of a predator, probably filled with flies, and small paws. I cooked them lightly, shuddering (I touched a frog for the first time in the life), separating legs, peeling off the skin. Having gained enough spirit, I put a small slice into my mouth: it was bitter, grassy taste ... Indeed, rather balancing. A frog's foot as well as several cranberries, taken in winter, relieved the pain when the head started to hurt. However, this type of exchange did not fit the body, burdened by pregnancy, in general.
Enlarged veins in legs were worse and harder to be withstood, head stopped aching only from meat of animals not smaller than a goat (the larger was the better). The sour taste followed me everywhere, nevertheless I did’t refuse from apples (Antonovka was rather cheap food). I was dreaming of something soft-neutral, which was associated with oatmeal. Having taken a handful of cereals in my fist, I boiled the oatmeal, which was fully contained in a saucer. We agreed on the purchase of some goat meat for the next day, but the desire to consume something similar was already actual on the current day. I ate oatmeal - it had a completely different taste, not soft and not sweet - rather sour ...
A day later the premature birth began. They said me about the lack of an “exchange card” at all stages from the ambulance to the delivery room, the doctor asked at the door: "Has she come herself or have you brought her? Why didn't you give birth at home?"
- I would have given birth if it was not a son: he would have been frightened ...
- You could have sent him for a walk!
- He is still small...
... The doctor said reproachfully showing me a blue, underdeveloped body:
- Look! She does not even have enough strength to peep.
At that moment the child brought a weak sound. The doctor looked at his watch for about fifteen minutes later, trying to revive a creature that I had not finished (she had a heartbeat but no breathing) and told the nurses: "Well, we did enough for her. Do not give any medicine, she may have the same allergy as her mother".. the baby was covered. (I watched the TV story from a maternity hospital in Germany a year later - they saved a six-month premature baby). The doctor seemed to understand my grief better than all women in white coats surrounding me and released me from the hospital even a day earlier.
Andrey not only turned me into a happy mother, he was my victory. It is impossible to describe what a woman who lost a child feels among mothers who see their babies every three hours. It was even harder to convey that it was my shame.
Having turned the intellect off, I relied on my body entirely, it tried its best, gathering the most valuable of me and bringing into my child. My teeth were destroyed, my mind did not understand, I couldn't write a single line, I didn't even remember even the elementary information, I was barely dragging my legs, I was nervous, I didn't give Andrey any attention - it was all in vain! He was a kind of tuning fork and prompted me about real dangers more than once. Where was the mind?
- Do not think to bring more, - the doctor warned me, - one is enough for you.
He did not know how right he was. What did I learned about myself, stuffed with radiation, which I could pass on to my child? What could I do in this world, completely dependent on the assortment of stores, even with my mother's help, but having such meager means? Andrey needed not a quarter or a half to survive, he required a whole place under the sun. Two parents and four grandparents who were ready to move at every moment, however - were not so much for one SUCH child. Would they have been enough for TWO SUCH children?
[1] Bear fat is very peculiar: it does not freeze and always keeps a transparent jelly-like appearance. Boar fat is very dense on the contrary, close to gristles. The one which I had eaten was more like pork and I was not aware that wild boars stay alive in snowy areas thanks to the human food - they pick up left potatoes, cereals. etc.
[2] Smolyansky, Abramova. Handbook of clinical nutrition for dieters and cooks.
[3] O. Morozova published the book in 1993 in Vladivostok and determined the following: "It is best to take donkey milk in order to feed a child, the horse milk provides less manifested effect, followed by cow and the list is finished by goat one. In case of the latter the composition of proteins is very different from the composition of proteins of breast milk, moreover goat and cow products include much casein, which is difficult to be digested in the child's stomach".
[4] I also associated difficulties with digestion of plant food with imperfection of the pancreas in a newborn. Each child gains weight and strength up to the age of about 5-10 years. The activity of intestine is also being improved constantly and its function hardly differs from that of adults by the age of 7 years. It is customary for two-year-olds to be fed almost in an adult way in our country, unless products are chopped more carefully in the course of cooking.
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