Artemissia: A Spiritual Awakening

Copyright © 2012 Kelly Ryan

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com.au

1-(877) 407-4847

ISBN: 978-1-4525-0811-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-0812-2 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Balboa Press rev. date: 11/26/2012

This book is dedicated to Artemissia, my daughter.

Thank you, I love you.

Ground Hog Day. Have you seen the movie? It shows one day repeated over and over, with the main character desperately trying to escape it by trying new ways of being. One day in Artemissia’s life was a ground hog day—with me, my husband Alex and my mother Colleen following a regimented nurturing routine which continued twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for the entire time of her short life in northern New South Wales, Australia.

It looked like this. I would come on duty in the morning, and make Artemissia’s drugs and water flushes for the day, putting them in specific Tupperware containers in the designated area on the kitchen bench. Throughout this task, I would be listening. Artemissia can’t swallow, so every moment she may need her saliva suctioned. Artemissia can’t move, so her precious body is repositioned every one and half hours. The other ongoing task is nappy changes, about 3 wees and one liquid poo. This is from the liquid food which went from a bag, through a tube in her nose to her stomach.

The next shift my Mum, Colleen, joined me at 10am and we would pop bub in the shower in her seahorse chair. Showering meant watching her face carefully to ensure she wasn’t choking, supporting her head with one hand while soaping and rinsing with the other. Onto the bed to get dressed, rolling Artemissia from side to side to care for our backs while stretching lovely bright clothes over her body which stiffened and relaxed against the movements. We used a hairdryer to dry her long blonde hair, and tenderly plait it from the top of her head. Into her pram, we put her support boots and gloves on, and get outside in the sun amongst the frangipanis for fifteen minutes, then back inside.

This is pram time, two hours in which we make Artemissia’s bed with lovely fresh sheets, make the next lot of drugs for the day, and make the milk to go in her nasogastric tube¹, adding pungent smelling Fish Oil drops. She then has half an hour in her monkey stand, a cheery support frame which helps her body stand and stretch, on which a wooden carving of children’s monkey’s disguises the clinical function. Back on the bed after this, boots and gloves off. Positioned on one side with pillow between her legs, her uppermost arm cuddling a pillow or soft toy, and a face washer under her chin for the constant saliva.

Suctioning is constant. We are mindful, full awareness of her sounds at all times. Artemissia can have coughing fits, she gags and vomits, so we always have her near the suction machine.

This is now Physiotherapy time and that includes massage and repetitive exercises for an hour, (twice a day) for all her body. The exercises are in the back of the bedside chart which lives on the end of Artemissia’s bed and on which we record everything we do for the entire 24hrs. Her arms, legs, fingers, everything, are moved to keep them supple, active and enhance circulation. We also do chest physiotherapy which involves chest pats, where we loosen the mucous in the lungs by gently but firmly drumming on her back with curved hands creating a little hollow space and sound. We do this whenever she needs it but at least once a day. Another method we used to break down the phlegm in her chest is a nebulizer, water in a tiny child’s oxygen mask from which air flows from the big blue machine creating a misty cooling vapor.

Mum reads Artemissia a book, then the day shift hands over to me at 1pm. I prepare all her 1pm, 2pm drugs and 2pm, 3pm and 4pm water flushes. Physio and massage again then back in her pram, boots and gloves on for 2hours, suction and nappy change throughout whole day. Back onto bed rotate every one and a half hours so no bed sores occur. Monitor and record everything in the bedside chart which has columns to tick throughout whole day and night. Drugs, flushes, poos, wees, turns, nebulizers, seizures, physio, shower—all boxes ticked to show everything has been done. Cross the T’s and dot the i’s in the excel spreadsheet so the next carer could clearly see what was completed so as to ensure Artemissia gets the best possible care in the world in her one bed palliative care hospital, in her home.

Artemissia was fed over 24hours. With a machine called a kangaroo pump. We turned it off for six hours in total over the day to rest her little tum, writing the length of time turned off in the chart so each shift knew how many hours were left. The feed went continuously with a brrr-brrr-brrr sound, at a rate decided by how much bub weighed. The drugs Artemissia was on at this time started at 6am and the last one for a day’s cycle would be given at 10pm at night, these were also titrated by how much she weighed and given through the peg tube with a water flush following.

The shifts continued relentlessly. Alex did shifts while also working. Day after day, week after week, like Ground Hog Day. There were times of happiness, and peace, times of tears, pure frustration, anger and exhaustion. The clock never stopped as we monitored Artemissia, always having someone beside her bed 24/7, in case she gagged or held her breath. In the one minute you would leave the room to go to the bathroom anything could happen. We left the toilet door open.

She was the only child in Australia with Sandhoff disease and we had become Palliative care experts in the disease. I was on a spiritual quest to understand and embrace this journey, and I became expert in the act of searching for truths. So I read, and I went as far as I could down the rabbit hole. Some were things I could learn to do—Reiki², Yoga³. Some were ways of being in the world. Some were spiritual underpinnings, ancient stories, God, spiritual guidance. The biggest questions—Why?, Why are we here?, What is the purpose to all of this?—were at the forefront of my mind.

I also noticed the more I committed to my own spiritual transformation, the cleaner my chakras were becoming. I was slowly but surely, with daily perseverance, becoming the healed healer.

I was releasing emotional blocks within myself on a spiritual, physical and mental level. I was becoming a clearer channel for the divine source to work through. The more I opened to the source, God, the more determined I became with relentless focused intention. I was then guided and directed, loved and supported, because I remained consistent in keeping this connection. In keeping this conscious connection, I was rewarded for my efforts. The rewards far exceeded my expectations. The rewards not being my goal, but the thirst and unveiling of universal truths.

Ground hog day also included this spiritual discipline. Continuing through the day, I had a routine of morning healings. This consisted of chakra⁴ cleansing, reiki and prayer for Bub, myself and my family. I was usually tired at this point, but the house slept peacefully and it was the best time of the day to do these healings, without the clutter of emotions that we pick up from each other throughout the day.

One morning I said to bub, "You know I love you." I sent it like a transmission from my mind to hers.

She said, "Yes, I have come to heal others and change the world with my wisdom, knowledge and power. I will teach you too Mummy. We will help others find their soul task . . . We have much work to do. We must start at home first.

You see that is the first place that must be healed. Then like the pebble in a pond it will ripple out from there until everyone lives in peace and harmony. They will all be affected—and once they see that there is other ways to function in family dynamics with each other—people will know that it is the only way in which we can move forward and make a difference on this beautiful planet . . . . Believe in me and take my hand. There is nothing to be afraid of. I will show you the way. Just take my hand."

Artemissia then lifted her hand; grizzled, reached up. I held her hand then she was happy. I took a deep breath.

She said, "I need more cuddles and affection, touch. I love you Mum. Thank you for taking the time to develop this psychic ability so that we are able to communicate. Please talk to me like this more often. I will never leave you.

I have chosen you. We are one and each other unified, together forever.

I know there is much love here and I know everyone is healing. Mum keep practicing everything you have learnt. I am so proud of you."

Yes. There it is. A deep communion with my little sick girl, and the spiritual practice of love starting from her ground hog day existence and rippling endlessly through the universe with infinite possibility.

Two years later, I am free to keep educating myself. I have a stable base in which to study and follow all my passions. I have my enthusiasm and zest again to continue the mission for which I am here.

I look back on this part or role I have played in this great play of life and I see what it is that I must continue to do. It is simple~ Send love to the world through this experience that I have had the opportunity to live. To share with others that life can be what you really want it to be, if it aligns with your higher good, you can’t go wrong. Each lesson is as valuable as the other. So learn the lessons and learn them well. Fill your heart with peace and happiness and be thankful for the people that you meet along the way who act as teachers or guides. Be with love and gratitude for all the wonders and the gifts in the world that we have all been given. Be all you can be and be the best you can be in love and light.

What I now know was the very first sign began when Artemissia was four months old. Her breathing sounded wheezy, muffled and loud. I was worried. Alex was worried, and we discussed visiting our GP as her breathing didn’t sound normal.

I called the local community health clinic who reassured me that babies can be like that. I also saw our GP who suggested it was a mucus plug, and reassured me that it was common for children to sound sniffily.

Was I being overprotective? I felt like I wasn’t being heard by the professionals. So true to my nature, I turned to those many books new parents have. I read that these noises children make are predictable events. Artemissia’s development was still that of a happy healthy little baby girl and I resolved to relax and not to over worry much. Alex and I were the most affectionate parents around, and perhaps we were being overly concerned with every little thing as we doted on our beautiful daughter.

At this time, financially, we had dug the proverbial hole for ourselves. I was a stay at home mother, which meant Alex was working harder than ever at the local nursery. Creating a work-from-home job seemed to be a perfect solution. I enjoyed photography, so I borrowed from the library twenty books about photography to further educate myself. Alex kindly purchased the best camera, tripod, and computer for me so I could start the process. The business, Byron2Tweed, was created with a photo of a Frangipani on the kitchen table.

The next day two Frangipani⁵ trees made their way home from the nursery with Alex, once again I took photos. I took a few more snaps, easing my way into what would become a Frangipani photography addiction. When Alex came home from work one afternoon I had managed to add 278 pictures to the file!

From there it grew like wildfire. We decided to specialise in making gift cards, postcards and canvases of all sizes, using the Frangipani images. I was in my creative element as a self-made photographer and Alex excelled at marketing, overseeing the budget and business side of Byron2Tweed.

We now had to look at getting our product into the public arena, so we ventured out to our first market at Pottsville on the Easter weekend. We certainly didn’t lack the stamina or drive to push our new business. The most important thing was that we were all together as a family. I didn’t have Artemisia babysat, as I didn’t feel the need to be away from her for any reason, a normal Mums response to her beautiful girl.

We proceeded to establish ourselves with permanent spots in the many delicious markets in Northern New South Wales. The weather got colder, and those early morning starts to be at the markets by 5.30am took its toll. However, Artemissia went to every market smiling, maybe wondering what adventure we would be having today.

Concurrently with this, there was me cold selling. Eventually, I would have twenty-three stores stocking our products. Artemissia would come with me everywhere I would go, never leaving my side. I was breast feeding in the car in between visiting stores. All this hard work was paying off, and it began to feel like our financial strain would ease off and we could relax and enjoy parenting.

Artemissia had her six month vaccination at the local medical centre on the 11th of March 2008. After this, I noticed her tongue start to protrude from her mouth and once again contacted the local GP and local community health clinic. They advised once again that this was normal. Bub was still being breastfed and was still co-sleeping when I introduced foods. I followed all the books I could get my hands on—choosing the best nutrients, baby farex, rusks, cooked pureed vegetables and fruits for my little girl. I noticed that she would play with food, particularly rusks. She was teething and enjoyed rubbing her gums with them. She could hold her own finger foods.

I also noticed development wise that she was not sitting, crawling, babbling very much at all.

Her smile lit up her face though. We had started to put her in a walker and she would sometimes push from the toes but not put her feet flat on the ground. Occasionally, while she was supported by pillows on the bed, she would slump to either side. These were to be tiny indications of what was to come. Being a first time parent I didn’t recognize these signals and thought perhaps she was a late developer. I was determined not to be a pushy Mum, demanding milestones from my baby.

As the months progressed however, I would notice that while I was driving, Artemisia had slightly slumped forward and seemed unable to hold her head up. We would put a toy or a rolled up nappy cloth to support her neck. She also started to have a distant look in her eyes, as if she was focusing in and out. She would be looking directly at me, and then a moment later look around my head even though I was calling her name. These moments scared me.

Over the months Artemisia slowed down her responses to sounds around her, not turning her head to the direction of the noises being made. She started to reject food and