Heart Transplant to Recovery: Second Day

The following was posted to my CaringBridge journal on Feb 23, 2015:

Watched part of the Oscars last night, but fell asleep part way through. Woke up just long enough to hear who won best picture. Slept fitfully in the chair all night. It's much more comfortable to be in the chair up right then reclining because of the chest tubes.

A few minutes ago, they turned off the dobutamine which was supporting my heart function, so right now my heart is beating on its own. If the heart rate (above 90 BPM) and cardiac index (high 2s to low 3s) both stay within normal levels without the dobutamine they will remove the Swan catheter from my neck and help me walk around.

My white blood cell count was slightly elevated on my early morning labs, so they are running cultures from my blood and urine to see what the source might be. There's a chance is just inflammation from the steroids or surgery itself but if it is an infection they will want to nip it in the bud. My temperature is mostly normal 98-99.

I'm very hungry and thirsty. My whole thorax aches.

Dr. Ramzy the transplant surgeon stopped by to talk to me just now. He said he's very pleased with my progress and tell me my heart that I received is very young between 25 and 31 years old that's all the information he could give me right now without me submitting an information request to the transplant coordinators.

Heart Transplant to Recovery: First Day

The following posts were made by my husband on Feb 22, 2015:

Margaret was extubated at 10 pm and after briefly speaking with me went back to sleep. It is assumed there were no issues over night as I did not receive a call and they stated  they would call if there were any problems.  I am on my way to spend the day with her an if all goes well as it has been, they hope to move her from the ICU as early as tomorrow.  She will likely remain hospitalized for about a week.

—

After a good night Margaret was able to get up and be moved to the chair and she was awake for the morning, numbers that are being monitored remain good, the hope is that tomorrow the swan catheter in her neck which measures pulmonary function and right side of heart function comes out tomorrow, once it comes out she will be able to ambulate and be moved out of the ICU. Chest tubes which remain for drainage are causing pain and discomfort, we hope they are able to be removed on Tuesday.

—

She is also enjoying her 1st meal tonight.

Heart Failure to Transplant: Faith Like a Child

I posted the following to my CaringBridge journal on Dec 3, 2014:

Scene: Last night at bed time

Charlotte: "Mom, there is something I haven't been telling you."

"What is it?"

"Well, I'm really worried. About you. I don't want you to leave to go to Stanford or that other place to get a new heart. And I'm worried that you will get sicker."

"I don't really want to go away or get sicker either. Wouldn't it be wonderful if God could just fix my heart? My friends prayed that for me. And I started to feel better."

"God answers prayers," she said very seriously. "I think He said," and she made her voice as deep and big as she could, "I WILL." Then she laughed. "I don't know how God sounds."

We talked some more and eventually Charlotte wanted to know if God is everywhere does that mean He is also alone in the garage?

This morning when we woke up, Charlotte asked, "Mom, do you feel better still?"

I answered, "Yes, except my nose is very tickly." Allergies or the tail end of my cold draining out if my sinuses have me sneezing quite a bit today.

"That means God is answering our prayer," she said.

It's probably not what she meant, but every time I have sneezed or had to blow my nose today, I remember what she said.

Achoo! = God answers prayers.

Healing tickles and itches sometimes, right? ;)

Feeling good otherwise.

Heart Failure to Transplant: What Is God Up To?

The following was posted to my CaringBridge journal on Dec 2, 2014:

Last week I felt particularly lousy.  I had only had 4 hours of sleep on Monday night, had a bad cold, and all week and into the weekend was having lots of symptoms of my heart failure in terms of fatigue, shortness of breath, chest pain, light-headedness and palpitations.  It seemed maybe I would be in need of a lot more help if things continued that way. 

Monday morning I was still feeling run down and stayed in my pajamas and rested as much as I could.

Then in the afternoon a couple from my church came over to visit with me and pray.  Bill asked me if I was OK with praying for a miracle.  I said absolutely!  I'd much rather keep my own heart than go through a transplant.  He prayed specifically for my heart muscle to relax and my ventricles to fill effectively on each beat and pump the blood my body needs so that I can do everything my family needs me to do as the wife and mom. 

While they were praying I began to feel refreshed.  After they left, I felt able to take a shower, get dressed, and do some light housework. I had some interesting sensations in my chest, not quite pain but a stretching feeling.  This morning I felt even better and that good feeling has lasted all day long. 

I still have some slight cold symptoms, but haven't had any noticeable palpitations, shortness of breath, fatigue or lightheadedness all day! 

I have no idea what's going on with my heart, but I do know I was able to do what my family needed me to do today.

I am so filled with hope...

Heart Failure to Transplant: Right Heart Catheterization

This post went up on my CaringBridge journal on Nov 26, 2014:

On the way to Santa Clara, I read portions of a book called Christ the Healer.  It talked about God's compassion, willingness and power to heal, which was very encouraging.  I'm fully convinced He will give me a new heart, one way or another.

The night before the test, Adam and I took advantage of the kid-free time and went to see Interstellar.  Wow!  What a great, thought provoking movie!

When I went to sleep the night before the test, and when I woke up in the early morning hours to pump, I thought about how wonderful it would be if God chose to heal me that morning, so that when they looked at my heart during the catheterization, they'd say, "Wait a minute!  Do we have the right patient? Why are we doing this? This heart is completely normal!"

When they took me back for the test, it was chilly in the room and one of the nurses took a blanket from the warmer and placed it over the operating table, and then put a few more warm blankets on top of me.  Another nurse covered my hair with a turban to keep it clean in case of any blood spatter.  I said I felt like I was at a spa, and she said that was the first time she'd heard the cath lab called a spa!  I said I was just trying to make the best of the situation.  Even funnier, when Dr. Parekh came in to begin the procedure, she said, "With that turban on your head you look ready for a day at the spa!"  The nurses started joking about getting me some cucumbers for my eyes, or painting my toenails during the procedure.

Genevieve, the medical student from Stanford, came in to observe the procedure, and Dr. Parekh offered her the chance to inject the lidocaine and insert the catheter to my neck vein.  Unfortunately, she had trouble with getting the catheter in properly, and after three unsuccessful tries, Dr. Parekh had to step in.  Dr. Parekh even had a little trouble and said she felt resistance in my vein almost as if there were scar tissue there, which is very odd because I've never had procedures or injuries of any kind in that part of my body as far as I know.

They took their measurements by moving the catheter around, inflating and deflating a balloon, and flushing the line with saline.  It provoked some palpitations which tickled and made me cough a bit. 

The good news is that the pressures in my heart and lungs are normal.  The pulmonary hypertension I had in May is officially gone!  Praise God for healing!

The other measurements they took were to determine how much blood flows out of my heart with each beat.  There are two ways they can measure or estimate that amount.  One involves calculations based on the saturation of oxygen in my blood at different points, and the other involves flushing the line with saline that is a different temperature than my blood and observing how long it takes for the saline to move all the way through the heart by tracking the temperature change.  I don't recall which method yielded which result, but one method showed a ratio of amount of blood pumped in one minute to my total body area (Cardiac Index or CI) of 1.8, and the other method showed a CI of 2.1. 

For comparison, a normal heart has a CI of 2.6 and above, and CI at 1.8 or below is often associated with lack of blood flow to vital organs, a condition called cardiogenic shock.  My heart is not working well at all. 

The low CI explains all of my symptoms.  In fact, with a CI that low, a clinician might expect me to be doing worse than I am.  However, my blood work continues to show that all my other body systems are functioning normally... no kidney failure, no liver failure.  I credit my Jehovah Rapha for protecting my organs and allowing me to live a full of life as possible while I'm waiting for the new heart He will give me.

Dr. Parekh said there is nothing more they can do for me medically, except to get me on the transplant list at Stanford, Cedars-Sinai or both.

That's fine with me because "nothing more we can do" is exactly the situation where God has the most opportunity to show his power and glory. 

Heart Failure to Transplant: Locus of Control

I posted the following to my CaringBridge journal on Nov 23, 2014:

Part of the psychological testing I've had to do as part of the pre-transplant workup included a locos of control questionnaire.  The instructions were to indicate how strongly I agreed or disagreed with statements like "I'm to blame when my condition gets worse and get all the credit when my condition improves," or "Whether my condition improves or gets worse depends on my doctors," or "Whether my condition improves or gets worse is a matter of fate."

It turns out that I tend to have an internal locus of control, taking too much credit and blame for everything that happens to me and around me.  In reality, I need a healthy balance of all three: taking responsibility for my own role, assigning proper responsibility to others for their actions, and properly recognizing God's providence under in and through it all.

This morning as I lay in bed before getting up, I was pondering this in relation to the inner turmoil that I shared yesterday I've been experiencing this week. 

Putting those negative feelings into words cleared the way for me to think about them more objectively, and I've identified a few sources that they sprung from.  First of all, staying up too late and having interrupted nights of sleep with sick children is a significant contributor.  I also can't discount the influence of the natural and expected grieving/processing that had to occur as part of the advance directive/end-of-life planning type decisions I considered this week.

But third and most important, I identified a shift in my locus of control that threw the delicate balance off kilter.  I've been taking too much credit and blame again. 

Back in September, when I first heard the words "Stage C Heart Failure" and understood the chronic nature of my diagnosis, a friend responded to my news by sharing her perspective on healing.  Essentially, it's a hyperfulfillment perspective that says that since Jesus conquered sin and death, that Christians today should never experience disease, but if they do and don't then experience miraculous healing, it's because of insufficient or incorrect belief.

That really upset me at first, and similar to the past few days, when I considered her words, I felt unsettled and uncomfortable from a emotional, mental and spiritual perspective.  To move out of that discomfort, I did some research the theology of healing, and God blessed me by leading me to some wonderful, balanced articles on the subject which reminded me that He has a whole healing arsenal and HE IS my healer and will choose the method best for me! 

The hyperfulfillment theology of healing puts the focus on how much I believe or how correctly I believe, which ironically takes my eyes off Jesus and the hinders my ability to say, "though he slay me, yet will I trust him."  It provokes anxiety and despair because it tries to assign me credit and blame for things that are not actually in my control. 

This morning I was reminded of that situation and my responses because I think I'm in the same place again, and my unsettled discomfort has the same root cause: a disruption in the balance of my locus of control away from the healthy understanding of what I can control, what others are responsible for and what is in God's hands. 

Toward the end of this week, I watched a very thought provoking documentary called Origins that highlights the connection between the health of all of nature, and in particular the microbiome, and human health.  I also listened to a CD called Dead Doctors Don't Lie about the connection between human illness and deficiencies in essential nutrients, vitamins and minerals.

Very good and true information, but once again it subtly shifted my locus of control.  I started taking too much credit and blame, provoking anxiety and despair because if it's up to me and I can't do or be enough then.... what?

I praise God for bringing this all to mind and helping get my locus of control back in balance, which helps me cope much better with my new normal.  :)

Romans is one of my favorite books of the Bible.

This morning at church, Pastor Jeff used Romans 5:1-5 to discuss "growing into thanksgiving."  Toward the beginning of the sermon, he pointed out that verse 1 starts with a "therefore," and summarized what had come before. I glanced back through Romans 4 and the following verses about Abraham leapt off the page at me:

19 Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. 20 Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, 21 being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.

To paraphrase:

"Without weakening in my faith, I will face the fact that my body is as good as dead--since my heart doesn't work properly--yet I will not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but will be strengthened in my faith and give glory to God, being fully persuaded that God has the power to do what he has promised!"

Amen!

Heart Failure to Transplant: Pulmonary Hypertension Healed?

I posted the following to my CaringBridge journal on Oct 23, 2014:

Praise!  The echocardiogram on Friday suggests that the blood pressure in my lungs has normalized.  This will be verified at the right heart catheterization on November 25, and may mean I don't need to be hospitalized or go on IV drugs, which would mean I don't have to wean Elliott. 

They'll draw blood for genetic testing on Tuesday, and also obtain blood samples from my parents.  The results of the test will not be ready for a few months.  The hope is that they can identify the gene that caused the cardiomyopathy so that my first-degree relatives can be screened.

I get my TB test results read this afternoon, and will also get a flu shot.

More on DYT and a Mental Health Progress Report

A friend of mine blogged today about her own journey with Dressing Your Truth, how she found out about it and how it has impacted her at a level so much deeper than just dressing and feeling beautiful.

Check out Part 1 and Part 2!

Part One has a great overview of what Dressing Your Truth is, and Part Two goes into how understanding her nature and dressing accordingly has created some aha! moments for her.

This is one of my favorite sections:

I am not a "textbook" Type 1 - what I call bouncy balls and fireworks. Rather, I describe my energy as "a dreamer, head in the clouds" energy. It is still a very light, airy, full of ideas energy - but it also has a soft, gentle, graceful element to it. Think Belle in Disney's Beauty & the Beast. Thinking of it in that way allowed me to start to truly accept and embrace this part of my nature in a way I hadn't been able to before.

I love that!  The way she expresses her bright animated energy is influenced by a secondary soft subtle energy which makes it not quite as in your face as the Type One description sounds at first.  I didn't believe I could be a Type 1 because I didn't feel extroverted and loud and flashy enough.  But I'm my own kind of Type 1!  Although I loved the comparison to Belle, but my mind instantly went to another of my favorite fictional heroines, Anne of Green Gables!

I have to say since purging my closet of the black clothes and dark shaded/rich golden colors and bringing out and wearing my clothes with colors that pop, I've felt more me than I have in years.  The excitable bouncy clapping singing dancing joyful sublime silly whimsical me!  It may sound strange, but just changing the way I dress and accepting my bright animated nature has been deeply healing for me.  I don't have to censor myself and be more "grown up" or serious or somber than I am.  I don't have to beat myself up for not being someone else.

This is only one facet of my recovery from depression and anxiety.  Going public with my problem was one important step.  Deleting doomsday-type websites from my favorites and blogroll is another.  Meditating on Scripture and going through Celebrate Recovery to keep my focus on Christ as my source of hope and truth is the foundation of my recovery. 

All those intersected on Thursday.  One of my favorite verses is Zephaniah 3:17, and at a friend's suggestion I meditated on it Thursday night while singing "Revelation Song" at Celebrate Recovery.  God gave me a vision of me worshiping in the Throne Room and Him delighting in me living as who I was meant to be, and tears flowed and a burden of fear and anger lifted off my heart.

And, in the midst of it all, God is showing me a new path for me to embrace my passion for breastfeeding advocacy.  But that's another story for another blog post.

A song about therapy

I love "What Do You Hear In These Sounds" by Dar Williams. 

Watch the video:


Here are the lyrics:

What Do You Hear In These Sounds
Words and music by Dar Williams

I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak
I go and I find the one and only answer every week
And it's just me and all the memories to follow
Down any course that fits within a fifty minute hour
And we fathom all the mysteries, explicit and inherent
When I hit a rut, she says to try the other parent
And she's so kind, I think she wants to tell me something,
But she knows that its much better if I get it for myself...

And she says
Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, What do you hear in these sounds?
And... Oooooooh,aaaaaaah
What do you hear in these sounds?????

I say I hear a doubt, with the voice of true believing
And the promises to stay, and the footsteps that are leaving
And she says "Oh", I say "What?"...she says "Exactly",
I say"What, you think I'm angry
Does that mean you think I'm angry?"

She says "Look, you come here every week
With jigsaw pieces of your past
Its all on little soundbytes and voices out of photographs
And that's all yours, that's the guide, that's the map
So tell me, where does the arrow point to?
WHO INVENTED ROSES?"
and.......
{ From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/d/dar-williams-lyrics/what-do-you-hear-in-these-sounds-lyrics.html }

Oooooooh,aaaaaaah
What do you hear in these sounds?
And...Oooooooh,aaaaaaah
What do you hear in these sounds?????

And when I talk about therapy, I know what people think
That it only makes you selfish and in love with your shrink
But Oh how I loved everybody else
When I finally got to talk so much about myself............

And I wake up and I ask myself what state I'm in
And I say well I'm lucky, cause I am like East Berlin
I had this wall and what I knew of the free world
Was that I could see their fireworks
And I could hear their radio

And I thought that if we met, I would only start confessing
And they'd know that I was scared
They'd would know that I was guessing
But the wall came down and there they stood before me
With their stumbling and their mumbling
And their calling out just like me...and...

Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, The stories that nobody hears...and...
Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, and I collect these sounds in my ears...and
Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, that's what I hear in these sounds...and...
Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, that's what I hear in these.....
that's what I hear in these sounds!

God's Discipline

I've heard it said that children form their first impressions of what God is like from their parents. Like most things we teach our kids, it's more about how we live and treat them than about what we say.

For example, I can say with my mouth that God is love and has grace for sinners, but if I also use that mouth to yell at and shame C for every perceived infraction and inconvenience I might feel she causes me, it might hinder her experiential understanding of that love and grace that I gave lip service to.

I want to do my best to faithfully represent God's character to my daughter and any other children I may have in the fuure with both my words and my actions.

So the question then is, what aspects of God's character can I imitate as a parent? What kind of parent is He? How does God respond to disobedience from His children?

Is God full of wrath and vengeance, looking for the slightest excuse to zap us with punishment?

Hundreds of years of history recorded in the Old Testament show us just the opposite. God is slow to anger, abounding in love. God warns and pleads and woos and relents at the least sign of repentance.

Christ's sacrifice on the cross is the ultimate unfolding of divine lovingkindness, mercy and grace.

God has every right to condemn and judge us or even to just leave us wallowing in the pain and agony we inflict upon ourselves, but instead, Christ came to take that judgment and set us free of the consequences of our sin.

God corrects, reproves and issues invitations to "Come let us reason together."

I've experienced this personally. During my my junior and senior year of college, I turned my back on the legalistic harsh taskmaster version of God I'd been exhausing myself striving to follow. God slowly wooed me to a deep understanding of his grace and lovingkindness.

That summer I lived in Youngstown, OH working as an intern at the copy desk of the local paper. God placed a longing in my heart for spiritual things that led me to stop the radio on a Christian station with grace-filled messages, a longing that led me to try to find a church to attend one Sunday. There a wonderful family welcomed me warmly and adopted me as an honorary family member for the summer. At the same time, a dear friend from college kept up a correspondence by mail with me. Her letters shone with gentle gratitude for God's goodness and grace that was contagious.

Yet I didn't immediately repent. I was entangled in a sexual relationship, and I wasn't ready to give it up. In fact, I went further off track, moving in with my partner the summer after college and reading up on zen Buddhism and other new age philosophies.

Fast forward a few months, when the relationship inevitably fell apart. God reached out to me through His people again. Instead of the expected judgment and I told you sos from my parents, they reminded me of the parable of the Prodigal Son, reminded me of the depth of God's grace and encouraged me that to come back to the faith.

By this point, I was once again living far from home, alone in a strange city. This time, I was in Miami, FL for graduate school. Again I felt the almost irresistable urge to find a church, and again I was adopted into the community. Though I still had some bad habits of partying, drunkenness and casual sex, God was patient with me. He led me to a small group Bible study and in the context of those deeper relationships, He started to heal my hurts and teach me more about His love. The more I understood his love, the more my bad habits became distasteful to me and fell away as naturally as a scab falling off when a wound is healed.

During that time, I did feel conviction from the Holy Spirit that was at times uncomfortable (though agonizing guilt and shame and lies of the enemy that I was damned for all eternity with no hope of redemption even if I repented were more often felt). Changing my lifestyle and breaking old habits and healing the wounds, some of which I had inflicted on myself, was painful at times.

In all this, God did not punish me. He even spared me some of the natural consequences of my actions. It was his kindness that ultimately led me to repentance.

That experience and others that followed so profoundly altered and deepened my understanding of grace that it touches every part of my life. It is a grace I must share and extend to others. I want everyone, but in particular my child, to understand and experience the depth and heighth and breadth of God's unfathomable grace.

Never Forget His Faithfulness

Just over a year ago, I almost lost my daughter in a vehicle vs. pedestrian accident in a driveway.

I shared some of the immediate raw emotion from that here.


Today, all eight of the two-week-old chicks I've been raising were killed by my dog. I sobbed uncontrollably when I found them and as I worked with my husband to clean up the scene.

Was my reaction way out of proportion to the cause? After all, they were just chickens.

I'm wondering if something more is going on. Could it be that in a way I'm processing leftover emotion from last year's trauma through this?

Whatever the case, this small tragedy is an excellent reminder to look back and praise God once again for preventing an unthinkable tragedy by saving C's little life last year.

What grace that I got to enjoy another twelve months watching her grow, hearing her learn to talk and sing, hear her say "I love you" and ask for hugs and kisses. Three hundred and sixty five more days of nursing her at my breast, cuddling her to sleep and waking up beside her every morning.

Praise the Lord whose lovingkindness endures forever!!

I think I will publish the story of her accident and recovery in this space in the coming days so others may know of what He did for us.

Grace in our Trauma

Pookaloo was hit by a van on Saturday, May 1st. There were scary moments when we didn't know how bad it was. She turned blue and couldn't keep her eyes open on the way to the hospital, and once we got there she was very still. X-rays and a CT scan showed pulmonary contusions and pelvic fractures.

PRAISE GOD that by some miracle she is ok. Her lungs are already healed, and she has begun to crawl and even walk again.



Trauma comes with so many emotions.

Fear. Guilt. Relief. Joy.


It happened so fast and now she's well on the road to recovery but our emotions are still raw, throbbing, bleeding and demanding care and attention. How odd that the ordinary rhythms of the world and daily march forward when I want to hit pause and rewind until I've processed it all.


Fear. We almost lost her. The line between alive and dead is so thin. We are so vulnerable and what we think is ours could be snatched away in a moment. A moment of inattention led to this result and I want to swear eternal vigilance, but I know that there will be more moments of inattention because I am only human. I'm not ultimately in control, I don't have the power over life or death.

Guilt. I was there and had just put her down and turned my back to do something I thought was important. What could be more important than keeping my precious daughter safe? Now in the aftermath, she needs so much from me and I am starting to feel drained and resentful and then I feel guilty about that.

Relief, Joy and Gratitude. She's alive! She's healing rapidly! She's thriving! I still get to be her mama! God saved her! God healed/is healing her! Every smile, every giggle, every cuddle overwhelms me with joy that leaks out of my eyes.


Pookaloo has to process the trauma too. How scared and confused she must have been. How frustrated she is now to be able to walk only slowly with a limp, when before this she was running, jumping, climbing.


God has continually extended grace to me in this situation. A warm chaplain who immediately offered absolution for the guilt I expressed. A handmade blanket made by an anonymous donor through Project Linus that comforted Pookaloo in the ER. A message of hope and forgiveness at Bible study. An encouraging word from a dear aunt who was in a similar situation many years ago.

Grace is abounding. I need only to continually receive God's grace for myself and extend it to Pookaloo as we both are extra fragile and healing.

Idolatry

The Holy Spirit has been gently convicting me of a course correction I need to make.

The past few days I have been obsessively researching healthy living, holistic cures, diet plans, recommended supplements, etc. Yesterday I got so overwhelmed by all that I "should" be doing for myself and Pookaloo that I was on the verge of tears.

Then a gentle nudge. I read a message board post from a fellow mama about being healthy consuming her every thought. Some kind women graciously pointed in the direction of these two links:

Can Natural Living Become an Idol?

Health Food Junkie

What timely words for me.

Ever since I started on this journey to try to figure out Pookaloo's eczema, there has been a still small voice of warning that perhaps I could take it or was taking it too far. Upon reflection, I think I'm particularly vulnerable to going too far with this right now because it is one area I feel like I *can* control when so much of our life is truly out of my control at them moment (DH out of work -- only God knows when he will find work, our place up for sale -- only God knows if we will find a buyer and if the bank will accept the short sale, etc.).

So what now?

Balance.

Our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit and we are to be good stewards of our resources. I will not give up on making healthful choices when we can.

At the same time, I will consciously submit this area to God. When I catch myself obsessing or tempted to research one more thing, I will choose to stop and capture those thoughts to Christ. By God's grace I will redirect fretting to worship, and focus on the Creator rather than creation.

God is my Jehovah Jireh (God who provides) and Jehovah Rapha (God who heals). Ultimately it is he who blesses us with health. As it says in Psalm 23, He leads us to good pastures and still waters. I believe that is true spritually, but also physically. He is the giver of all good gifts!

Eczema as a drive to self-discipline

Normally I use this blog mainly to post thoughts and links to parenting ideas as well as spiritual discipline ideas, but today I want to share an experience our family has been going through.

Pookaloo recently (6-8 weeks ago) developed eczema and we have been battling it unsuccessfully and watching it just get worse and worse despite globbing on lots and lots of lotions.

Then, she developed hives one day after trying ranch dressing, and again a different day after having some garlic cheese sauce. Her face turned red after one bite of eggplant a week or so later. I already knew that eating tomatoes gave her a red bottom.

She's also been having lots of sneezes, sniffles and an almost constant clear runny nose.

Clearly she was reacting to something and I read that eczema can be related to food sensitivities.

Based on all the evidence, two weeks ago, I decided to cut out the top two common ingredients in the ranch and cheese sauce, dairy & soy, out of our diets. I also decided to eliminate the nightshade family (which includes tomatoes & eggplants, but also potatoes and peppers belong) too.

It seemed to be stable, maybe getting a little better. Then 8 days in to our new diet, she accidentally had a bit of her cousin's yogurt.

Things went from bad to worse. She broke out in a new rash all across her torso. One of the biggest & oldest spots on her arm cracked open and started weeping fluid, and the back of her knees were bright red and angry looking. Whereas it never seemed to bother her before, Pookaloo was rubbing at the spots and saying something approximating the word "itches."

Then, suddenly, yesterday and today we've seen a dramatic improvement. It could be the new Aveeno Intense Repair Cream. Or the oatmeal bath or baking soda baths she's had the past two nights. Those definitely helped. But I'm pretty sure that Pookaloo is sensitive to dairy.

Did this just suddenly happen? Probably not. She was a fussy baby, but it was never quite severe enough to be categorized as colic. She has never been a great sleeper, and excessive night wakings can be a sign of food sensitivity too. I don't eat all that many dairy products because of my lactose intolerance, but I do indulge every once in a while. I never noticed a consistent obvious pattern of her fussiness or wakefulness related to the times I would indulge in a bowl of lactose-free ice cream or take probiotics so I could enjoy a slice of pizza with light cheese and extra sauce. That the eczema showed up only recently makes sense because she has been eating yogurt and cheese directly more and more since she's turned one. In fact, I thought she loved it; she was always asking for cheese. I learned recently that an obsession with a food can actually reflect a sensitivity to it.

Not only is her eczema better but her nightwakings have become much easier to handle too. I don't know if it was a fluke or not, but last night she woke only at 2:30 and 6:50 and we got up at 7:30. Twice in one night might be considered a lot for some 18 month olds, but for her it was like a miracle. Nights where she wakes up 5 or more times are not uncommon around here.

I'm feeling happy to know what is going on, but feeling a little sad too that I didn't catch on sooner. When she was tiny I sometimes wondered if something I ate bothered her but I didn't think her symptoms rose to the level described by those with clear-cut cases of food sensitivity/allergy and like I said, if there was a pattern to her symptoms, I missed it.

Too, I was lazy and selfish. I didn't think it was worth it to go to the trouble and discomfort of an elimination diet for what seemed to me like a remote possibility. I thought I just had a high-needs, spirited baby who needed a little extra TLC. How much frustration and discomfort and pain could I have spared both of us if I had been more willing to submit to a more disciplined way of eating? Praise God for his mercy. I can be thankful for the eczema because it was God's design for Charlotte's body to put up a red flag and get my attention.

I do think God spoke to me about fasting in order to prepare me to go on this elimination diet for both our sakes. It hasn't been easy. The first week I craved ice cream like nobody's business. But now I find myself thinking of it less and less. I'd rather have a banana or a fruit popsicle. And I definitely feel better without dealing with the slightly mild lactose intolerance symptoms that used to follow me everyday (because dairy is in so many things!)

I'm pretty certain of the dairy being a problem, although I will probably challenge it again in a few weeks just to be sure. Her reaction to tomatoes and eggplant was really obvious so I'm definite about needing to avoid those too. I'm less certain about the soy being an issue, but I'm content to keep avoiding it for now.

A blessing to be found in all this is that I am now much more aware of what we put into our bodies and seeking to support our health. It's opened my eyes to ways of approaching wellness that I never would have sought out or considered without this.

Emotional Creatures

Last night at Bible study, an array of black and white photos were spread across the table and counter of the kitchen we meet in. We were instructed to peruse the images and then pick one or two that grabbed us. The next step was to quiet ourselves and ask God to speak to us through the images.

I selected two photographs. One was an interesting shot down a tunnel of barbed wire. The second was a striking image of a young boy comforting an old woman, the smooth newness of his skin contrasting with her wrinkles even as the peace on his face contrasted with her sorrow.

What struck me most about the barbed wire image was not the danger posed by the barbs, but the safe protected space within. The first thing that came to mind was that as I journey through trials, the only way safely through the barbs that surround me is in the center with God. "Remain in my love," echoed through my heart.

The second image spoke to me of generational blessings, a precious legacy of reciprocal comfort and compassion between parents and children, grandparents and grandchildren. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted," was the verse that came to mind.

This morning though, another perspective on the barbed wire image has emerged. What if I missed the point? What if the barbed wire image illustrated one way (my typical way) of dealing with trials/emotions -- isolated, controlled, with a wall of defenses -- while the second image represents an invitation to continue to learn a new way to deal with strong emotions -- by truly mourning so that I may accept and give comfort?

I've spent too much time afraid of big feelings and strong emotions. Of letting tears come, of acknowledging anger, even of getting too giddy with joy.

Lord, please show me what sorrows I am leaving unmourned, what joys unrejoiced, what injustices without proper indignation. You wept, you laughed, you drove the moneychangers out of the temple and railed against the hypocrites. I want to be as fully human as you and in turn teach and model for my children how to accept themselves as the emotional creatures you made us to be.

In one of those God things, I followed a rabbit trail of blog posts this morning and came across this very apropos January 2009 post on the Graceful Parenting blog

Healing Tears and Forgiveness

Last night God nudged me in a new direction.

I had read an article on the healing power of tears. Some studies have shown that tears carry stress-chemicals out of the body, perhaps explaining why one sometimes feels refreshed and cleansed after a good cry.

God confronted me with some information about myself. It's actually hard for me to cry, and I tend to be uncomfortable around others when they are crying. Through my early childhood experiences, I learned to be ashamed of crying, to see crying as a weakness that is both childish and foolish. Even now as an adult, I mistakenly have thought that tears are irrational and the result of wrong thinking, inevitable sometimes, but regrettable and to be avoided.

That was wrong. Tears are a valid expression of overwhelming emotion. By suppressing my tears, I have cut myself off from a full experience of life's pain but also it's pleasure. I have lied to myself that what hurt me no longer hurts, but by rushing past my hurt, I have stunted the healing process and numbed myself to a deeper experience of joy as well.

Last night I thought about many of the slings and arrows of my past. Times when I was told to stop crying lest the person give me something to cry about. Names I was called and labels I was given at home and at school that wounded my spirit. I saw them in a new light. Those things DID hurt, and it's okay to acknowledge that and feel the full force of the hurt. I pictured God comforting me, affirming his understanding of the hurt and fully accepting me as I began to cry about it.

And then a surprise: an overwhelming desire to offer forgiveness for each of the hurts, whether the perpetrator was a family member, schoolmate or even myself. I recognized that they didn't fully understand what they were doing, and had their own set of hurts that they were reacting against, and that my wrongs against others have been equally bad if not worse.

I think I had misunderstood forgiveness in the past. Even though intellectually I thought I understood forgiveness, somehow I operated as though forgiveness equaled denial of the wrong and suppression of the emotions caused by the wrong.

I slept very well last night, feeling much lighter without the burden of denied hurts.