HELPLESS...

I was sleeping peacefully in bed the other night when I heard a sound that was all too-familiar, and one that I don't ever enjoy. The sound of crying, and wheezing, and barking, and ultimately gasping for breath. Bryson was having another attack of Croup. His allergies, or asthma, or who knows what, seem to affect him randomly and he wakes up in the middle of night struggling and fighting for his breath.

So, how is it that this 7-year-old still gets Croup at least every other month. The doctors told me that he would outgrow it probably by 3 years of age, and definitely by 5 years age. And... I am still waiting. At 3 1/2 he had a Bronchoscopy done on his throat to find out if his airway was abnormally narrow - nope. The specialist found huge white pustules and scar tissue all-over from severe acid reflux (which we never knew he had because he wasn't a spit-up baby), and evidence of chronic sinusitis. So, neither really answered exactly why he gets Croup. So, I was to wait until he outgrew it... but that hasn't happened?

I have been terrible about documenting my children's medical illnesses, let alone journaling the events of their lives over the past few years. So, I figured after this night it would be good to try and remember back and record some of those things. Bryson has been hospitalized twice for Croup before he was two years old, has had a bronchoscopy - Dec. 2004, eye surgery on five muscles in both eyes - April 2005. He is such a little trooper when it comes to the doctor, dentist, whatever. But when is he going to outgrow this Croup?

It is a terrible, HELPLESS feeling when your child comes into your bedroom crying hysterically, in between breaths, and can't quite manage to get the words out to express that he can't breathe. I can only describe it as someone sufficating you with an imaginary pillow that you can't get off. No matter how deeply you breathe, you can't catch your breath, and you fear that every one might be your last.

So, we do the normal things. First, rush him outside into the cold night air - something they always tell you to do. So, after grabbing a blanket to keep warm, running out onto the cold cement, and holding him for about five minutes - there is still no relief. So, then we go to the bathroom. I shut the bathroom door and turn on the water really hot, and we cuddle on the floor wrapped up in our blanket, and wait for the steam - hoping it will help him get some air. Five minutes, ten minutes go by... by now I am warm and oh-so tempted to fall asleep, but fear that I might miss the moment when he can't get his breath back at all. I try to calm him as best I can and tell him to take deep breaths, and reassure him that it will be ok. Even though we have been through this MANY times, it still devastates him.

After all of the times that we have been through this, we suffer through it somehow, and always come out surviving. We lose a little sleep, we cry a few tears, we try to calm both of our fears, and eventually there is enough relief to get us through the night. And then, the day is SO much better. The second night is always a repeat, worse in fact, but after that it gets much better. Most often we have to go to the doctor's office the next day, or sometimes the hospital that night, so that they can give him a steroid shot or a shot of Epinephrin.

And what is so amazing - never before have we petitioned the Lord's help for relief, in the moment! So, there we sat. There I sat. I was grumpy. I was tired. I REALLY wanted to go back to bed. Jason was sleeping, and had to get up early the next day, so I knew that I was going to deal with this one on my own. So, after feeling HELPLESS, and with tears of frustration, sleeplessness, and fear, I prayed for him... and felt peace.

I felt strongly to take him into the family room where we have an air-purifier with a hepa-filter that we bought because of Tyler and Bryson's allergy issues. It has helped SO much. It blows out cold, fresh air. I grabbed a pillow for Bryson, and his blanket, and I made him a bed on the floor. It wasn't too long before he was fast asleep, still moderately gasping for air, but somewhat more comfortable, and with a little bit more relief. I finally felt assured that I could go back to bed.

I am so thankful for the precious moments that we have that allow us to reevaluate things. At that panicked moment, I was HELPLESS and feared that I might watch one of my children pass through the veil and back into the arms of their loving father in heaven. I wasn't ready for that. I told my Heavenly Father that. And I petitioned him to give me strength to endure, to comfort my child, and to give him relief. He answered my prayer.

In the heat of the moment, I am often not thinking about asking for help. I am thinking about what "I" can do - take him outside, steam up the shower, get him elevated, nebulize him with albuterol, and ultimately - get him to the hospital to get help. Never before have I, in the moment, thought to ask my father in heaven for help. I am just SO grateful to be here, to have moved here, where I have been able to truly refocus my life. And, look more towards my savior, and rely on Him. Life has been so much more simple, more peaceful, more spiritual, and just plain AWESOME.

Though there is no known reason why this keeps happening, I can rest assured that my savior knows me. Though it is so easy to be grumpy and frustrated with being woken up in the middle of the night, and for not having any answers for why this is still happening, I do know that I can ask my father in heaven to give me the strength to endure these trials. And, I can exercise faith, and help Bryson to see the hand of the Lord in his life. And, I no longer have to feel HELPLESS. I am on the Lord's side... and if I ask... HE will HELP me.