The Chemical Generation - Are the HIDDEN toxins in food making your family sick?

By Jamie Geurtjens

In The Chemical Generation, Jamie Geurtjens, teacher and mother of two, not only openly shares her own families experience of dealing with an Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), but she also explains how she eventually realised that the hidden toxins in food were responsible for making her sons condition worse.

Jamie goes on to explain how she was able to successfully "recover" her son (who had been diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome) by removing hidden chemicals from foods, and replacing them with nourishing meals.

Jamie also provides some basic nutritional advice and a two week nutritional plan, along with fast and easy recipes, to help get you started.

Jamie believes that by removing toxic chemicals from our childrens lives, we will not only help an entire generation of children (and adults) with ASD, but also those suffering from other common conditions such as ADD, ADHD, Obesity, Dyslexia, Eczema, IBS, Anxiety, and depression.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456623142

Book preview

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The Beginning

I was in my final year of my teaching degree when I met my husband, Jeremy. I knew as soon as I saw him that I would marry him. He was tall, kindhearted, and stunningly gorgeous. Just 4 months later, we were engaged, and within a year of our first meeting, we were happily married. We wanted to be parents more than anything, and it was something we talked about a lot. We lived in the small town of Bulls where we owned the most run-down house on the street. Almost two years after we were married and still living in our run-down, but half done up house, we became pregnant with a little boy. Ethan was born naturally and was absolutely perfect. He had the cheekiest smile, big blue eyes, and the softest blonde hair in the world. He had a really healthy start. I would make all his baby food from fresh market fruits and vegetables and soon added in farm raised meat. He had soon grown into a busy, happy toddler, and everything was going well for us. However when Ethan was 18 months old, not long after his MMR vaccination, he became more defiant especially when he had to do something that he didn’t want to do, like have his nappy changed. I began to dread changing his nappy as I had to try and hold him down as he kicked his legs and tried to get away. When he was really tired in the evenings, it would sometimes take both Jeremy and me to change his nappy. I can still remember his first tantrum. I was at home one evening and had been trying to change Ethan’s nappy, but he wouldn’t let me because he was more interested in playing with his cars. He got so upset that he threw himself on the ground and started this almighty screaming tantrum. It lasted over 20 minutes, and only stopped once he had worn himself out. This tantrum was the start of a severe anxiety disorder that would later have Ethan diagnosed as being on the autistic spectrum. At only 19 months old, he was soon having regular tantrums every day. I kept thinking I was doing something wrong, that I must be causing him to get so upset. He would never have these tantrums around his grandparents or visitors, only me or Jeremy. I think I read every parenting book in the library. We were consistent. We gave positive reinforcement. We spent quality time with him, set boundaries, modelled appropriate behavior, shared our feelings, role-played situations, disciplined, had sticker charts, smiley charts, getting ready for school charts, and money charts. We fostered his strengths, ignored the negatives, praised the positives, guided him through social situations, talked to him at his level, gave him timeouts, and took toys away, books away … everything in his room but the mattress. We made a lucky dip bag for a good day’s behavior, took him on trips, had weekly and sometimes nightly meetings as parents to work out a better plan, we sometimes blamed ourselves, occasionally blamed each other, and even blamed him. You name it, we tried it, and we gave it a good go … and then tried something else. Nothing worked for Ethan, and under the advice of 2 medical practitioners, we hoped that he would grow out of it as he reached 3 years.

The Terrible Twos

When Ethan was 2, we had our little girl Sienna. This is when I found the so called terrible twos really hit the hardest. I would be up with Sienna through the night, who was not the best sleeper to begin with, sometimes being up for 4 hours at one time. And Ethan would wake at 5am full of energy and ready to start the day. He was starving from the get go, and he would cry and get angry if I did not get up right away to feed him. I often found myself half asleep quickly making his favorite breakfast, cow’s milk on top of Weet-Bix and dusted with white sugar. At this stage, Ethan became increasingly sick. He would be awake through the night with a constant cough, and he was full of mucous and would cough so much he was often sick. He was eventually diagnosed with childhood asthma, which I was advised he would grow out of. He was given antibiotics in case of infection and steroids to open his airways. I wish someone had suggested to me then that the milk could be making mucous adding to the situation, but instead he was filled with puffers and ventilators that never seemed to do any good. Taking him to the supermarket was nerve-wracking, and it soon seemed he was affected by the bright supermarket lights. They made him hyperactive or agitated. And he had to be eating luncheon or he would end up crying. I would race around the supermarket getting my shopping done in the time it took Ethan to eat 5 slices of processed luncheon meat. I would also bribe him at the supermarket to be good with strawberry milk each week too. I bought it in a large 2 liter container, and he loved it. At age 3, we moved from Bulls to Wanganui for Jeremy’s career. As we didn’t have family to help with Ethan on a weekly basis, he was enrolled at a very popular daycare, so I could have 2 mornings a week to get some jobs done. The first few weeks were awful. He would be screaming so much as I tried to leave, and the teacher would be holding onto him, and I could see his legs kicking as I left the gate. I was worried he would end up hurting the teacher he was kicking so much. This was scary because he was not a little boy who would ever want to hurt anyone. I would end up crying all the way home, wondering what I was doing wrong. All the other children were playing happily, why not Ethan? After a while, he began to settle, and he would look forward to waving to me at the gate once I was in my car. However, he would be so angry when I picked him up. He would walk with me to the car, and once he climbed in he would begin screaming and kicking in his car seat. He sometimes did this all the way home, and I remember one day Jeremy had the day off, and I left Sienna at home with him as I went to get Ethan. Ethan was so out of control on the way home, once I pulled up the driveway, and I opened up the door of the car. He was still kicking and screaming as I undid his safety belt … he was flapping his arms and legs around so much I could not grab hold of him, and he slid out of the car and onto the gravel driveway. I was staring down at him in shock as he continued to thrash around on the ground. He was so out of control that his legs were becoming raw from the gravel. I grabbed hold of him still thrashing and got him inside. I finally got him to his room where all I could do was shut the door. Nothing would snap him out of it until he was ready.

Looking back, I can now see that he was experiencing sensory overload, too much information going in, and he didn’t know how to process it. He kept it all in when outside the house and let it out when home. I can see now kindergarten was part of the nightmare, and I should not have taken him there. As he got worse, I thought he needed to go more so that we could at least have a break from each other. I didn’t know any better of course. Everyone else’s children went to daycare, and they loved it, coped well, and therefore I must be doing something wrong at home.

Ethan turned 3 and began kindergarten. I would take Sienna in for visits, and she would never stay still. She was off as she could walk from 13 months. She was into the paints and loved to be among all the children. I could have left her much easier, but Ethan was different. He cried and screamed when I left. He soon bonded with a teacher at the kindergarten. She was kind and nurturing, just what Ethan needed from a caregiver. He would talk about his teacher at home, and this made it easier to leave him most days knowing that he had someone looking out for him. He would follow her around and hold her hand, and gradually she was able to get him settled into activities. He would still have rather been at home with me, and he was very difficult to get to kindergarten, but the teachers assured me that once I was gone, he was happy. Once Sienna was a little older, I was able to return to some relief teaching at Ethan’s kindergarten, and this allowed me to see him playing happily. He usually played alone and was very quiet. He would chat nonstop until we reached the gate and then not a word from then. He would not say hello as he was greeted at the door or answer any questions from the teachers. He was