And The Verdict Is In

This morning, I took the toddler in for his allergy testing.

I was positive of three things:

1. He looked like a wreck. Four days on no Zyrtec was not good to my little guy.
2. He was allergic to dust.
3. He was allergic to dairy.

I didn't know how much the doctor would be testing him for, so I tried to stifle any worries of 5 pricks or 50 pricks? The other side of me was glad that he was having it done so young, because he wouldn't know what was going on. It would be over before he was afraid.

His allergist is one of our long-time family friends that has known me since I was only a few years older than my little guy. So sweet. I love her to death and totally trust her.

The nurse came in and pricked him ten times. Not so bad. We can handle ten.

And then came the bad part. Having to restrain him for twenty minutes so that we wouldn't have to redo the test. Yikers. Yeah, everyone in that entire office could hear my poor child screaming his lungs out for twenty solid minutes (that, and me singing "Mr. Sun" over and over and over).

The doctor came back in, took one look at his back, and delivered the verdict:

Not allergic to anything!

What!? That's not what I was expecting. My mom sense doesn't fail me often, but it sure did fail me today!

I feel two emotions. I'm happy that my child (at least at this point in his life) isn't allergic to any major food/environmental things. Really happy. I don't have allergies, I never have, and I'm not sure I would know how to handle that. The second emotion is that I feel like once again we're hitting a brick wall.

And I know, I know, I know that I could be struggling with something a bajillion times worse than this. In fact, I thank God every day that this is all we're having to deal with! In the big scheme of things, this is no big deal!

But it still feels frustrating. We keep getting the same news. He will struggle with this for a while, maybe years. I look at his sweet little face, arms, and legs, and I feel guilty. I feel like it's my fault. And I get so sick of people asking what is wrong with my baby--MY BABY! My precious child that I would do anything in the world for. I would die for in a second. I would run fifty marathons for. My child that I pray for every day and that I love with every ounce of my being--and that I've loved before I ever knew him, ever knew my husband.

That kills me. I cannot imagine going up to anyone--and especially anyone's child--and saying, "What's wrong with his face? What's on his arms?" Or whatever. Time after time (except once, I'm going to be honest, that I walked out of the room) I just smile and say, "It's just dry skin." And you wouldn't believe how many people say, "Have you tried Vaseline?"

No. Vaseline. That hadn't occurred to me.

We've only seen eleven doctors, five of whom are specialists, and tried about fifty million creams/treatments/medicines.

But thank you for your Vaseline suggestion.

Yikes! Okay, rant over.

All that to say, I'm glad that my little guy isn't allergic to anything! Thank You, God! :)