When my mom was 15, she was in a horrific car accident. Every year after that—like clockwork—she'd get an awful flare-up of eczema around the anniversary of the crash. And every year, her doctor would hand her the same steroid.
Then she got pregnant with my older brother, and the flare-up came back worse than it had ever been.
My Gram wasn't having it. She took my mom to see a woman she'd gone to school with—someone who worked with herbs. My mom thought, "This is crazy. I went to school with her. What is she going to do for me?"
But she walked into that office, explained what was going on, and the woman (Chena) told her to take 2–3 herbs. She also said, "You're having a boy—they pull on your thyroid."
My mom got the herbs, took them, slept for three days straight… and woke up healed.
When my brother was born, my mom went back to Chena—this time because the doctors wanted to load him up with vaccines and she needed guidance. Chena said, "I've been praying you'd come back," and handed her a book. My mom took that book to the pediatrician's office, asked him about it, and he said, "I can't vaccinate your child."
That was the moment everything changed. My mom's entire perspective shifted—and here we are.







