Kids

Man, having kids can be so hard. I'm not talking about the sleep deprivation, or the constant bickering between siblings, or the selective hearing that most children have mastered. I'm not even referring to snotty attitudes or tantrums or willful disobedience. I'm talking about the devastating, heart-wrenching pain that accompanies watching your child suffer. Is there anything worse? I firmly believe that the answer is a resounding "NO". I consider myself pretty reasonable, but when I hear about another kid at school picking on one of my children, I have to suppress the urge to march down to the school and hunt that kid down and scream in their face. When I was pregnant last summer, Olivia and Genevieve got beat up at the school by 3 siblings while their grandmother watched. You better believe that I waddled my backside down to the playground as fast as my birthing hips would carry me. I'm certain they heard me coming, because no one was there, but I was ready to rumble with grandma. When my daughters have had troubles with certain teachers at school, I put aside my doubts (am I overreacting?) and went and stood my ground despite total intimidation. I even pulled Genevieve from public school and homeschooled her one year (that teacher was not re-hired the next year, and no, I was not overreacting at all. If anything, I underreacted). When Shawn was deployed, a known drug addict came to our home and stood outside, twitching and pacing, and demanding to know if I had Mexicans living in our basement. I physically placed my body in front of my children and ordered them into the house. Mama Bear- any Mama Bear- will battle and die for her offspring. If you are a mother, then you know this. If you are not, I am willing to bet you have witnessed a Mama Bear in action, and it probably scared the hell out of you. But... what is a mama supposed to do when she can't fight what is hurting her baby? My poor Genevieve has spent her entire childhood being ill. I know I shouldn't complain when there are children with horrific diseases that ravage their little bodies, but I simply cannot see the bright side after witnessing Genevieve struggle for so long. She has had eczema since she was just a baby, which interferes with her sleep and concentration. Have you ever itched, like really itched? Head to toe, 24 consecutive hours? Try seven years. Her entire existence. She doesn't know what it's like to not itch. There are times when my soaps and lotions can get it under control and it's better, but it's never fully gone. Food allergies started when she was one. She has never eaten a real cookie, had a birthday cake, or been able to simply snack at school/church/camp/a party/a sleepover/an event. I say "real" because yes, there are cookies and cakes that have alternative ingredients, but they taste like cardboard. Of course, in our house, we always play it up that "this tastes just like a regular cookie!" Or, "Yes, this is what cake tastes like!" We're lying. It tastes like crap. She's old enough now where she knows she's missing out, and it makes her sad. Worse yet, she knows she's different. Not to mention that several times a year, someone she trusts "accidentally" (which means, "did-not-read-the-label-despite-being-emphatically-warned-by-aforementioned-scary-Mama Bear") gives her something she is allergic to, and she ends up puking her brains out-if she's lucky.  If she's not lucky, she needs an injection and has to be rushed to the hospital. It sucks. Having to stab your child in the leg with a giant needle because she's not breathing extra sucks. Just when I think I have her food allergies figured out, another pops up. It's frustrating to hear everyone tell her that she'll grow out of them. Maybe she will, but don't give her false hope. And seriously, platitudes like that are infuriating. So far, Gen keeps growing into more allergies, and they're getting worse. Sometimes, because her fragile body cannot fight a normal virus, she gets weird stuff, like she had mollescum for over a year on her skin. Since she was embarrassed, a doctor offered a "quick fix" of apply some beetle juice (no, seriously) that would PAINLESSLY remove the bumps. Except it severely burned her skin, and I had to endure her screams while I pulled the band-aids off to get the acidic juice off her skin. By the time we had gotten home, the skin had fused to the band-aids, and I literally pulled off her skin along with the band-aids. I cannot even describe how awful it was to do this to her. It was over a year ago that this happened, and I am still so upset about that. Oh yes, Mama Bear called that doctor a few times and gave some angry words about her "painless" method of removing the bumps. Gen still has scars. I think we both do. Now, her (different) doctors are baffled because she's constantly sick. Sometimes with a fever, sometimes not. Usually throwing up several times a day, but not all the time. Sometimes no appetite, other times she has a ravenous appetite but can't gain weight or absorb her food. There seems to be no rhyme or reason. For the longest time, her doctors would tell me that her immune system is suppressed from her allergies and eczema, so she was getting sick from that.  Another little something about Mama Bears is that not only can we be terrifying, but we can be downright clairvoyant. It took a lot of insisting, but I was finally taken seriously, and the docs understood that something is wrong. They have had us eliminate certain foods from her diet, and then try again with others when that yields no results. Gen's tonsils were ginormous, so they removed those in hopes that she would get better sleep and give her body a fighting chance. It hasn't helped in the least. She loses weight during her bouts of illness, then gains it back when she's feeling better. She just hit 50 lbs. last week, and I nearly threw cartwheels. Since her blood levels are all low (phosphates, CBC, iron, glucose, Vitamin D, etc. etc.) despite the many supplements we give her because of her food allergies, we were sent to a pediatric gastroenterology specialist. Blood tests were negative, and her Upper GI was normal. At this point, normal test results upset me. I want the doctor to say, "Aha! Here's the source of all our trouble! Just a pesky twisted thingamajig. Let's straighten it and be done." Normal test results simply tell me, "We still don't know. She will continue to suffer until we do."  As can be expected, her physical ailments have led to emotional ones. I want SO BADLY to fix them both, and I can't. I am utterly helpless when she is laying in bed crying. When she asks why she has to have this, I don't have an answer for her. I want more than anything to punch her illness hard, wrestle it, hurt it... but there is nothing to grapple with. My hands are tied. My hands are only able to squeeze hers when she is poked with needles, or forced to drink Barium. My hands force her down when she needs an IV or EpiPen injection. My hands hold her hair for her when she vomits, and brush the hair gently from her forehead when she cries. My hands constantly check for a fever and feel her pulse. My hands make her bread, goldfish, and other treats that we cannot buy from the store because it would kill her. Most of all, my hands love her with hugs, nightly massages, backscratches, and gentle touches, but never doubt for a moment: my hands are searching to break what I cannot see.