The four day curse

Well, I probably shouldn't be surprised. After all, any time we have found a lotion or treatment that works on Ethan, guaranteed by the fourth day, it ceases to work and we watch as his agony increases again, his feedings become intolerable and his sleep that much more deprived.

I noticed it after last night's wet wrap... normally he is relaxed and peaceful in his wet wrap and he sleeps for about two hours before we need to get him back into dry clothes. But last night, he was restless even right after being put in the wet wrap, he was difficult to settle and only slept for about forty-five minutes.

Uh oh... please dear God, not again.

Sure enough, we had a not-so-fun night (he continues to nurse every two hours around the clock). This morning, he fought his wet wrap completely and writhed for the two hours we kept him in it. He wouldn't nurse properly and has barely slept at all today. His cheeks are looking bright red again and starting to ooze.

Why won't anything last for longer than three to four days????

We will continue with the wet wraps until we see the Allergy Specialist again on Wednesday. He continues to fight the bottle and we haven't been able to give him anything other than my milk and with some luck, a bit of water through an eye dropper.

I am so tired. I feel so deflated... as though I am fighting a battle that cannot be won. This is my Goliath and I just can't seem to find my foundation in God strong enough to defeat this.

Or maybe it is not meant to be defeated...

I do not know. And I ask myself, what am I willing to surrender? Why is this happening to my son? How long will it last? Will it ever end? Will I ever sleep again?

I find my mind dangerously close to shutting down, melting down, closing off, shutting out... escaping. I just want more than an hour or two of sleep. I just want to remember what it's like to care about more than getting people fed, diapered, consoled, etc...

I know, I know. I am starting to sound like one big pity party. The sheer irony of it is that I could find the optimistic side to this if I could just get some sleep. I know I could. If I was rested, the old me would laugh at the face of this challenge and say "oh silly challenge, nothing can defeat me and my faith. Come, let me tolerate you for a little while and you will see."

Instead, I feel like I'm on the verge of a nervous break down and my faith keeps knocking at the door saying "hey, remember me?" I don't want to remember you right now because you are giving me nothing but false hope! And even at that statement, I know it is untrue... just one of those childish moments where you think it feels good to yell "I hate you!" to the friend you love who just hurt your feelings.

Surely this is just an ant hill. After all, I could be starving in Africa, walking for miles without any guarantee of finding water or knowing if I will return to my children still alive or not. It could be SOOO much worse!

But this is my cross to bear right now and I just need to say that it hurts. That I'm scared. That I feel discouraged and helpless when I watch my son writhing in pain. I am scared to eat ANYTHING for fear it is the culprit. I am going on almost three weeks with this strict diet and my only hope lies in the advice I heard that all traces of milk take three weeks to clear a person's system. So if this is dairy related, maybe... just maybe... next week we will finally start to see some changes in Ethan's skin.

I am watching my husband run himself ragged trying to be present in the night, working his days, trying to prepare the farm for spring and being present to his own family, too.

I just want my son to be healed. Thanks again for your prayers.