Tuesday, June 25, 2013


This, folks, is the face of eczema. 

Before the last two years, I thought, how bad can a skin condition like this be?  It's just a rash.  It can't make your life miserable. 

Then I had a child with it.  As a baby, her eyelids bled because of it.  Then it got better.  Now, it's worse again.  And it's worse this time around. 

Not every day is like this.  I presume the really bad days have triggers.  Today, she ate salsa and a pasta salad.  I know one of those made her face and wrists really red, so I'm guessing one of them aggravated the eczema.  Unfortunately, she really liked both of them.  So I either have to figure out what in which one caused it to get so much worse, or I can just not give her either.  Or I can just let her be this miserable every day.

If you have no children, or if your children are tough with no health problems, you can't understand what this is like.  There isn't much worse than knowing your child is hurting and being able to do absolutely nothing about it. 

This was one of those days that I wanted to quit.  She is out of my league.  She's over my pay scale.  She is more than I bargained for when I got pregnant.  I've called on others to help with ideas for treating her eczema and so far have come up short. 

This is motherhood.  It's the getting out of bed the next day knowing you are going to do the same thing you did the day before.  It's having hope, that someday you will be able to help your child.  Or if you can't, someone else will.  It's the hope that your child won't hurt forever, won't struggle forever. 

It's coming to the end of yourself and realizing that you have no idea what you're doing, yet you have no choice but to get up tomorrow and do whatever it is you do again.  It's realizing you can't fix it.  You can kiss the hurt, but it won't always go away.  You can tell them they're doing a great job, even when you know the rest of the world would say it's lousy.  You can tell them they're beautiful even when you know the rest of the world will disagree.  You tell them they are wonderful and special when the rest of the world will tell them to blend in and just be one of the crowd. 

But in the end, only three things remain.  Faith, that there is eternal meaning in the laundry and lotions and bedtime stories.  Hope, that God will care for your child even when you can't.  And love. 

1 comment:

  1. My poor girl.

    There *is* a national eczema association: