Our Family. Our Journey.
Our Worst Nightmare: Our Son’s Journey from Vaccine Injury to Healing
Our family lives on a small homestead in rural Middleton, Idaho. We have five children, with two of our boys still at home. We homeschool, work from home, and raise our children in a way that prioritizes their health, freedom, and connection to nature. Our boys are involved in every aspect of caring for and training our dogs, as well as tending to our other animals. We love sports, hunting, fishing, hiking, camping, and bringing our Golden Retrievers everywhere we go.
But we weren’t always on this path. Everything changed in September of 2012. That month marked the day our eyes were opened to a truth that no parent ever wants to face—the realization that the very people we trusted with our child’s well-being had harmed him.
It started as an ordinary 6-month well-baby checkup. We brought our youngest son in for what we thought was routine care, a simple check-in with the doctor to ensure he was growing and thriving. He was perfect—a strong, healthy baby, reaching every milestone. We had no reason to suspect that within 24 hours, our world would shatter.
That day, he received his scheduled vaccines—the ones I had never questioned before, the ones I had always been told were "safe and necessary." Within hours, he spiked a high fever and began struggling to breathe. Something was horribly wrong. We rushed him back to the doctor, only to be told he had fluid in his lungs and needed to go straight to the ER.
The nightmare had begun.
Nothing could soothe him. He screamed in pain any time we laid him down. His tiny body was covered in rashes, his stools turned into constant, explosive diarrhea. His once bright, curious eyes grew distant—he would just stare off, unresponsive, lost. He stopped progressing developmentally. In fact, he was regressing before our eyes.
Where were the doctors now?
The very people who injected him with those shots had no answers when we desperately pleaded for help. They dismissed our concerns. They disappeared. No follow-up. No concern. No responsibility.
By his 12-month check-up, he was still sick. The doctor, now concerned, referred us to autism specialists at Vanderbilt University. But the wait was six months. Six months of watching our son slip further away, six months of fear, six months of gut-wrenching guilt. I knew in my soul that the vaccines had done this, but when I voiced my concerns, I was gaslit—"It’s just a coincidence."
At 18 months, we sat in that cold, sterile room at Vanderbilt, listening to the specialists rattle off a checklist of symptoms. No speech. No eye contact. High-pitched squealing. Repetitive hand movements. Frequent falls. No coordination. Food aversions. Head thrusting. Toe walking. Extreme anxiety. The words hit me like a freight train:
"Your son has autism."
Hopeless. That’s what they told us we should feel. No cure. No treatment. No hope. They said he needed special education, speech therapy, physical therapy, occupational therapy. But there was no fixing this, they assured us. This was just his life now.
But I refused to accept that.
I looked at my son—the same baby who had once been vibrant and healthy, now trapped in his own body—and I knew in my heart that this was not his fate. He was born perfect. His body was damaged, but that meant it could be healed.
So I turned away from the doctors and started searching for the truth.
And what I found shattered me all over again.
There were thousands—millions—of parents just like us. Their babies were fine—until they weren’t. The stories were horrifyingly identical to ours.
The guilt was suffocating.
I had trusted blindly. I ignored my instincts. I let the government and medical system convince me that vaccines were the right choice. I was wrong.
I devoted my life to undoing the damage. I spent every waking moment researching, connecting with other parents, and learning from those who had walked this path before me. Healing would be slow. It would be expensive. But it would be possible.
Through homeopathy, diet changes, and targeted supplements, we fought to bring our son back. The process wasn’t easy, and there were setbacks along the way. But slowly, surely, we started seeing changes.
By age 4, our son—once labeled as "incurably autistic"—was unrecognizable from the sick, silent, distant child we had been told would never recover. His speech returned. His motor skills improved. The obsessive behaviors disappeared. He was laughing, playing, thriving. Today, no one would ever know he was once given an "incurable" diagnosis.
But the damage extended beyond him. All of our children had been injured. Chronic allergies, eczema, ear infections, ADHD, food allergies, constant sickness—things I had been told were "normal." They weren’t normal. They were vaccine injuries.
It took years to undo the lies we had been taught. Years to un-learn the fear-based mindset that kept us running back to doctors who had no solutions. Years to trust ourselves again.
This is why we do what we do.
What we learned in healing our children spilled into our animals. The same system that profits from keeping humans sick and dependent does the exact same thing to our dogs. The cycle of disease and chronic illness isn’t random—it’s created.
That’s why at High Desert Goldens, we raise our dogs naturally, without vaccines, toxic medications, or processed food. We believe dogs deserve the same chance at health that our son fought for. We refuse to let corrupt industries dictate what "normal" health looks like.
This journey changed everything for us. We will never be the same. And we will never stop fighting for truth, for health, and for the right to raise our children—and our animals—the way nature intended.