funny mom crying After months of procrastination – finally, a tidal wave of sea-change smashed into our reality. My head spluttered up from the surf; I am still alive. I know I am alive for one reason. Reality kind of bites when you are free-falling through the hospital emergency doors at 2a.m holding your limp child across your arms.
Sleep deprived, anxious and annoyed that I found myself googling ‘hospital’ for my lack of local knowledge of its location. How bad is that? Surely I go to the bottom of the mummy list for that one ? Not to mention why we ended up there in the first place? How did I let it go that far, when my two-year old little butterfly clearly needed medical attention?
The truth is, sickened I knew she was unwell when I dropped her off at daycare that morning. Despite three doctors different opinions, various diagnosis and a barrage of fix it creams, the hollow eyes and red blotches on her skin told my gut something was really wrong. She limply let go of my hand and sat, head bowed as she dug un-enthusiastically in the sandpit. She did not cry.  And she did not smile. It was my first day at my new job. I did not have a choice……did I.DID I?
The day passed as I knew it would. It’s irrelevant.
That night her skin burned as the redness bled, stripping off skin. Exposed and raw, her whole body, likened to an acid dip. At 1am I startled out of my troubled sleep as her screams daggered my stomach into full consciousness. I watched horrified as she dug her tiny fingers into her painful skin and clawed herself for sick relief.
Her huge blue eyes, widened up into mine. “Help me Mummy.”
That was the moment. I hit the point of no return. The reality of life and its ‘ obeyed’ obligations disappeared. Within minutes we sped onto the highway, blackness and stillness except for our focus on discs of yellow light, flashing onto white lines and the road ahead. I sat in the back and glanced over as I felt my little girl touch my hand. Even in the darkness her tiny fingers, exposed, crimson wet and yet scaled. I felt sick as the adrenalin kicked in and carried us through the next 10 hours in A&E.
They admitted her and I numbly followed the bed, as they wheeled her up the silent corridors. Her quiet tiny, exhausted body spooned an outline under a white sheet, as clung onto her teddy. Others stopped to let us pass, a stare first, onto the bed and onto her almost translucent features. Then the recognition that it is a child; she looks ill. She looks weak. She looks like she is going to give up. In my own sane and rational mind I know this is not true; as they glance up to me and their shock is replaced with remorse for a mother. I half-smile, to reassure the strangers. Why? Why did I do that? I think even through my wet eyes, I know she is now in the best place to fix her.
We are now on a new path as a family. This car crash of emotion and confrontation must be good for us to move forward. We now know what we are dealing with. The diagnosis – Aggressive Eczema.
I am not going to go on about the guilt and the whole life/ work/ family thing. We ALL KNOW ITS HARD, not all the time, hopefully just occasionally, there is conflict to your actions as a parent. No, now we just now need to figure out what causes it, and inevitably how to control the flare ups and more to the point what with, when they do. We do not have the answers yet, but we will. We will tackle them head on and deal with it. We have to. For this there is no choice. As for me, well a new day is beginning. My moment of what if and why has passed. I have decided on my next step and my fear on what to do about it is burned. I’ll keep that little revelation for another time though…in the meantime can anyone share some insight on their experience with Eczema?