Our Babies' Battle, Story 1: 1854

By Alison M. Tomlinson

In 1853, the British government passed the Compulsory Vaccination Act. All babies under three months old had to be vaccinated against smallpox. Some hailed this as a great step forward for medical science. Others called it tyranny. For 50 years, Rose Emery sought to raise her children and grandchildren in this turbulent environment. This series of seven short stories follows Rose on this difficult journey.

In Story 1: 1854, Rose is just three months old. She lives in a community of downtrodden cotton mill workers in Leeds, West Yorkshire. Early one morning, she is drugged, put in a box, and covertly taken away from her home and family. For days there is no news of her fate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alison M. Tomlinson
• Release date: Dec 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005249328

Alison M. Tomlinson

I was born in Yorkshire, England in 1959, and I was in ill-health from day one. At the age of twenty-three, I gave birth to my son, Timothy, who was born severely handicapped and died at the age of nine. I continued to struggle with my health. By the time I was fifty-three, I was in crisis. I was bent over to the left, I could barely walk and I was in constant pain. My left leg was almost useless. I couldn’t bend my ankle or toes, and the muscles on my left thigh looked like those of a ninety- year-old. Life was daily trauma, and I wanted to die.I prayed and, for the first time, I started to see my health struggle as a spiritual battle. I searched my King James Bible and started to call on the Lord Jesus Christ to deliver me from the destructive schemes of the enemy. After months of this, I felt God tell me that I had broken through, and I would now find the answer.Then I discovered Dr Joel Wallach and started his nutrition and diet programme. I took the ‘Mighty 90’, the ninety essential nutrients our body needs to maintain optimal health. Within five days I knew I’d found the answer to health. Within six months, I was standing straight and was substantially out of pain. After being on the programme for a couple of years, I was walking 95% better, and I felt well for the first time in my life.So, what was I to do with my new lease of life? I still couldn’t run a marathon, but I now had margin. I could do more than just survive. I had my brain back. I could concentrate, think, analyze, reason, create.So, I started writing novels.My first novel is I’m Sorry, Oliver. The protagonist, Sylvia Keighley follows my own health story.My second novel is An Untimely Birth. My aim is to examine the spiritual roots of modern medicine through an exciting adventure story.I have plans for more novels and short stories. I hope you enjoy reading my books. Please feel free to contact me.God bless you.

Book preview

Our Babies’ Battle

Story 1: 1854

Alison M. Tomlinson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2021 Alison M. Tomlinson

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Our cause is the cause of the suffering little ones, the cause of the oppressed poor, the sacred cause of freedom in the home. No nobler fight is being fought than this our babies’ battle: no appeal more tender than that of the boundless pathos of an infant’s trust. (Vaccination Inquirer, 1899)

Of course, I don’t actually remember it.

I was only three months old at the time, so I don’t remember being drugged, locked in a box, and carried stealthily away from my home and family. Nor do I remember the torment my parents and sister went through as they waited to hear whether I was alive or dead.

But a thousand times, my older sister has told me every detail and how it was the worst experience of her miserable life.

Her name is Nellie. And you’re wondering what my name is, right? I now know it’s Rose, but I wasn’t sure of this until I was about ten years old. The thing is, after the event in question, my family started calling me Violet in public to hide my identity. When people asked about me, mum and dad claimed I was a distant cousin who had come to stay because my parents were sick. However, they never had a clear answer as to who my parents were or where they lived. And for a distant cousin, I spent a lot of time at my parents’ house.

My constant change of name was very confusing. One Sunday when I was about eight, I was taken to a concert given by the Leeds Mill Band (my uncle was a member). It was a rare treat and I was very excited. I was given an