Lost Time.

I've been wondering for a while how to tell this particular story as I've been waiting for the end. Sometimes though there is no end to a story, just like sometimes there is no beginning. It is like a snapshot in Time where the edges have grown fuzzy. So I enter upon the story in the middle.

I've always told my not-so-little Bundle of Joy that the best part of being sick is in the getting better. But what if you don't get better, she asks me now? What then is the best part of being sick?

It's been almost a year and my 5 year old has been sick every month (sometimes twice in a month) with horrible stomach aches which cause vomiting and diarrhea . These stomach aches can last anywhere from 4-7 days. She cannot eat, gets dehydrated, loses weight, is unable to sleep and teeters on the brink of an emotional breakdown. She's been poked, pricked, scoped and tested too many times to count. She has lost days and days to sickness.

I remember thinking it must be the stomach flu. But how many stomach flus can one child have? I remember asking her pediatrician if this had anything to do with the soy and dairy allergies she has as a baby? I remember trying hard to make sense of it all.  Food journals, food exclusions, probiotics, heavy water consumption - nothing worked. She kept getting sick. Every month.

I keep thinking the answers are just around the corner. While waiting for her GI doctor after her endoscopy and colonoscopy I was sure we would have a diagnoses. Nothing. He referred us to an allergist who pricked 70 holes in my child's back and then proceeded to ask for 13 vials of blood. I was sure then that there would be an answer. Nothing.

I have held my Bundle of Joy for countless hours as she writhes in pain. Her watery blue eyes looking up at me for answers. I have no answers, only Time.

I have clutched my Bundle of Joy's hair for her as she pukes countless times. Small sips of 7-Up and a wet washcloth are all I have to give.

I have slept with my Bundle of Joy for countless nights, running with her in my arms to the bathroom so that she doesn't have an accident in her paints. Soft toilet paper and diaper cream are my only offerings.

I have wiped away countless tears and have listened to countless frustrations. Fun days at preschool, lost. A day at the lake with friends, lost. A good night sleep, lost. Days of playing and just being a kid, lost. Breakfasts, lost. Lunches, lost. Dinners, lost. My Bundle of Joy has lost so much Time.

Somewhere a while back she have up on getting better. It was so much easier in the beginning to fight through the sickness when there was no perspective on what this mystery ailment might be. The last time she was sick however there was no toughing it out. The emotions bubbled to the surface instantly.

We are still desperately trying to find the key to a diagnoses in hopes that this cycle can be broken.  But for now, when my Bundle of Joy wakes up, says she's not hungry and that her tummy hurts, we sit awhile and remember the good days. We re-tell stories of what we've been up to lately. We silently recognize the lost Time and begin to think of others.

There are Others who struggle with Lost Time.  And  although it is not our Story to tell we begin to acknowledge the struggles outside of our own.

This started out slowly. Historical struggles being the easiest to teach we have learned about Abraham Lincoln, Mother Teresa and now Harriet Tubman. She stumbles onto questions that have no answers. These struggles ruminate within her. Each week this summer I have decided to focus on a historical person, highlighting their struggles, giving My Bundle of Joy perspective on Lost Time.

So what is the best part of being sick if you cannot get better she wonders now. I don't know, I tell her. Maybe we learn to have compassion for others and their Lost Time. Maybe we learn to give grace more freely to those who are painfully struggling. Maybe we become less egocentric, recognizing that there is hurt everywhere in this world. And maybe we begin to understand how we may be useful to others and for others. Maybe it is not about getting better but about how we choose to struggle. I dwell on this for a while. I hope beyond hoping that her body finds peace but if getting better never comes I know that the compassion assimilated into her soul during these Lost Times will have far reaching effects.

My Bundle of Joy has lost Time but through it is gaining a softheartedness for the struggles of others. Each struggle is important. Each hurt should be cared for. You are not alone.