Doubt

 

Doubt | thisgratefulmama.com

Last year, my daughter and I studied the book of John at Bible Study Fellowship. One theme that struck me was how John, a disciple and close friend of Jesus, identifies himself.

The one whom Jesus loved.

I was baffled by how it seemed to be new information even though I have studied John before. God’s timing is perfect – it took the entire year, but He finally revealed why this theme was so important to me.

To explain why, I need to first give you the backstory.

Our third child was born in May of 2016. She, like our firstborn son experienced silent reflux symptoms and spent her first months writhing and screaming in pain. It was gut-wrenching and we felt helpless.

Again.

Unlike the first time around, we had previous experience. We recognized the symptoms and assumed we knew what to do. Then our doctor agreed so she began reflux mediation.

But symptoms remained.

Long story short, we later learned she had a tongue and lip tie that was corrected by a pediatric dentist. Once healed, she was able to eat without choking or gulping air. Her reflux was controlled with medication.

Life settled down. She no longer writhed in pain.

And we put it behind us.

Well. Not quite.

My emotional distress over the issue lingered. I wrestled with why a child should endure such pain. And WHY it happened again to one of our children.

As feelings surfaced, I distracted myself. I reasoned – it was over, we had moved on. We had a healthy, thriving and now happy baby.

Lingering on what was felt like the opposite of gratitude. And I was grateful she was feeling better.

So I ignored it. Stuffed it. 

This was building to be more than just a little distress. Old, deep-seated emotions and pain from the first time when we watched our son struggle now mingled with the new these fresh new emotions. The old emotions had not lost their sharp, raw edge, even with the passage of time. (I’ve shared some about difficulties during my first year as a mom before. I’m not going to rehash it now but you can read about it here.)

The truth is, babies are born with all kinds of maladies and challenges – reflux is by far, not the worst. But when anything causes your child pain, it affects you deeply as a parent. This time around, our daughter’s pain also affected our other children.  They too coped with the stress of their sister’s pain and their parents’ attention being consumed by the baby.

Now, on to my doubt.

The last day of BSF is ‘sharing day’ – picture 500 women and an open microphone. Women share publicly what God has done in their lives through the study.

It’s amazing.

The morning was crazy and I was running late. As I slid into a row towards the back, I sighed with relief.

My plan was to just sit and listen to other women praise God for what He had done in their lives that year.

Then this funny thing happened. I kept having this strange thought that I needed to share. My heart started pounding and I thought – not in front of all these people.

Nope.

If the Holy Spirit has prompted you to share something before, then you know exactly what I’m talking about – whether to one person or before 500.

The heart pounding – it’s a THING.

Suddenly I’m scribbling notes with a pink sharpie on an old receipt – trying to get my thoughts in order before I head up front.

Several times in the study of John the topic of doubt came up. Each time, I quickly assessed myself (as in, not really) and pridefully said, of course I don’t doubt God!

He is who He says He is. Nothing is too hard for Him. His word is true and powerful. 

How could I doubt Him?

The most famous example of doubt is in John 20. ‘Doubting’ Thomas is not with the other disciples when Jesus appears to them after the resurrection. Thomas does not believe the disciples account and wants physical proof – to touch Jesus’ wounds.

You guys, Jesus is so kind.

He knew Thomas’ doubts and soon lovingly gave the opportunity to see and touch His wounds, without reprimand. Thomas believes and proclaims, ‘My Lord and My God!‘.

During the lecture the week we studied Thomas, we were challenged to ask God to show us our doubts and bring those doubts to Jesus. It was so compelling, I began praying before we even left the parking lot.

It wasn’t long before it was clear that I did have doubt.

I never doubted that Jesus was ABLE to prevent our children’s pain.

I never doubted He was ABLE to heal them at any time. 

We prayed and prayed. Both children were healed in His unique way, and in His time. But not in OUR Time.

So I doubted His love

For our son. For our daughter. For our family.

For ME. 

We placed our hope and faith in Him in our distress and didn’t get the response we desired. We prayed boldly. We trusted.

We pleaded and cried out before Him as we held our sweet hurting babies.

And for a time that seemed far too long, they kept on hurting.

And doubt creeped in.

Looking back, I see God’s faithfulness. He carried us, sending help and comfort, even when it felt He was far away and unresponsive.

If I had read Thomas’ story at the beginning of the year, I would have likely ignored what it challenged me to see – I wasn’t ready to face my doubt. 

But God’s loving kindness is so gentle. Before He revealed my doubt, He impressed upon me that my true identity is the one whom Jesus loves. And how the same is true for each of our children.

It is no accident that all these feelings from our firstborn were stirred up and relived with our daughter, just before starting the study of John – the gospel of love.

I will never fully comprehend on this side of heaven what God was doing when He allowed our babies to struggle. But He does show us glimpses of His work. I believe ONE reason He allowed this again in our life was to free me from the burden of doubt. 

Only after He had prepared me by showing me His steadfast love, did He reveal I doubted it. And carried around those feelings for the last 7 years.

That is long time to carry around doubt laced with pain.

So, tearfully but with unexpected boldness, I found myself speaking into an open microphone before 500 women proclaiming God’s love and confessing my doubt.

The God of restoration revealed my doubt, not to shame me, but to free me. He did it to redeem the part of my soul I had shut off from Him because it was shrouded in the fear that God didn’t really love us as I desperately needed Him to.

What a wonderful God we serve – who doesn’t leave us in our broken condition and continues to actively capture and heal our hearts! 

And He will continue to help us break free from the broken we harbor and carry around inside.

Today I stand in that freedom, knowing there will be other difficulties and hard things in my life and in the lives of our family that will challenge my faith and the truth of God’s word.

Without a doubt, there will be other doubts. 

This experience has shown me how in the past I’ve judged Thomas for his doubt.

You know what? ‘Doubting’ Thomas gets a bad-rap.

We all encounter doubts. Walking with Jesus in the midst of a broken world means we are imperfect and incapable of imperfect faith. Doubt is reality. There’s a little Thomas in all of us – when we claim to never doubt, we are deceived by pride.

As with every Bible character, their examples of imperfection and God’s loving response is left there for people just like me. And you. I’m so grateful God included Thomas’ story in the Bible to encourage us in our doubt. God wisely let us know that even one of the 12 disciples, who walked side by side with Jesus here on earth, had doubts too.

Today I stand better equipped to handle new doubts because I have experienced firsthand how Jesus knows my doubts, before I do. He does not waste them. Instead, He gently uses doubts to strengthen and embolden our faith. He draws us closer to Him and will continue to do so until we are with Him and like Him in eternity.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. Philippians 1:6 (ESV)

Amen.

 

Doubt | thisgratefulmama.com

PS: If you aren’t familiar with BSF, you may want to be! It’s an international organization providing FREE, true to God’s word, Bible studies to men, women and children. Next year’s study is Romans and starts in September – check it out!

Infant Silent Reflux is NOT Silent: My Experience Nursing and Caring for Our Hurting Son During His First Year

silent reflux is not silent

This is part one of two posts about nursing a hurting reflux baby. This post is simply to share my experience and struggle nursing and caring for our son who had silent reflux.

The purpose of part two is to encourage moms and equip those who support moms nursing hurting babies with knowledge of how to help. These women need your support and help; nursing a hurting child is no simple matter. In fact, nursing any child is often no simple matter.

If you are struggling with nursing, you are not alone.

It is no secret that our son had silent reflux as a baby. He never spit up – it burned both coming up and going back down when he swallowed it. Reflux medication did not eliminate his pain but merely took the edge off. This meant he hurt for most of his first year. For more about what silent reflux is, and how it is treated, read:

This story has taken longer to share because it is deeply personal and emotionally charged.

Many of those closest to me do not know the difficulty I had nursing and caring for our son, particularly during the first 3 months, and every night during the first year. Why? Telling the experience means recalling feelings of inadequacy, pain and failure that plagued my first year as a parent.

Nursing is ‘supposed to be the most natural thing’:

For me, it was not. It took a VERY long time to get the hang of it, even with multiple lactation consultations. It was physically painful for months. I felt scared, inadequate, guilty, and exhausted, but determined to figure it out. Failure was not an option.

Daytime Feeding:

During the day, he wanted to nurse constantly to soothe his burning throat. While spurts of cluster feeding are normal, this was extreme and constant. He would eat well but be frantic to nurse minutes later. While nursing, or passed out on my chest, he was somewhat calm – but his body never really relaxed.

Because he grew rapidly, his reflux medication dose was often too low for his body weight. During those transition times before his dose was increased, his nighttime symptoms, which we will discuss later, creeped into daytime. Those days and nights were truly a battle.

When I went back to work, I pumped and our daycare provider gave him bottles. For several months, he refused them and ate only as much as he had to at daycare. Then he cluster fed when I picked him up, and on weekends.  However, we were blessed when at 6 months, his daytime feedings finally became pretty regular.

Spacing feedings out:

We sought help for the constant nursing. We saw lactation and our pediatrician. They both encouraged us to space feedings out. I wanted to, and we tried. We held him as he slept, even as our limbs went numb. We tried everything to soothe him and lengthen the time between sessions. The most effective way was to hold him and do DEEP squats. Up, down, up, down, – until our legs and backs gave out. My poor husband often came home to a sweaty wife who could hardly stand up. It was not my best time. Squats – all day, every day. During maternity leave, we barlely made 1 hour between feeding start times, and we did everything physically possible to space them out.

The physical toll:

Keeping up with nursing demands during maternity leave was physically exhausting. When I should have been recovering from having a baby, I was doing continuous squats with little or no sleep (when I say no sleep, I mean actually NO sleep). The constant nursing was physically painful and draining. And I made so many mistakes – like failing to ask for more help. And not getting up to eat or drink water between each feeding because I was too exhausted and afraid to move. This left me often dehydrated, leading to other physical problems I won’t detail here. I did my best to eat healthy, despite cutting problem reflux foods (ALL dairy, citrus, beans, broccoli, etc.).

The lack of sleep and physical demands during maternity leave did NOT help recovery from labor and delivery. I was still not recovered at 12 weeks when I returned to work. At 6 months, I went back to the doctor, still in discomfort and pain. I was told it was from lack of sleep and rest for my body. Stress – it really does take a toll on the body.

Nighttime Feeding:

From 7 pm until morning, the reflux caused a different problem for the firs year. He was desperate to nurse, frantic. He began to eat, but suddenly it was like someone pinched him – his body stiffened and fists clenched. He threw his head back and the scream from his tiny body would shatter my heart as he tore his mouth away from my chest (ouch).  The wail continued, rattling until no breath was left and his face turned beet-red. We tried bottles and pacifiers. He refused. When he took a bottle at night, it too resulted in pain.

So we did our best to soothe him. Arms and backs exhausted after an hour or so, I would give in and nurse him. Still frantic, then the few moments of calm would be shattered by painful screams until finally he would pass out. Afraid to move, I held him until I got up the nerve to tiptoe upstairs to try to lay him down. If the floor creaked, or he was moved in any way, he would wake in pain. Rarely could he be transferred from my arms. Often, I stayed on the couch, holding him while he slept while trying to rest my eyes. Even sleeping, he cried out in pain, limbs flailing. I always prayed he would stay asleep, but he wouldn’t. He slept for 40 minutes, followed by a few hours of squats and pacing.

Most nights, my husband would find me weeping in a puddle and take over.

We did that every night of maternity leave and most nights the first year. He did not sleep even ONE 2 or 3 hour stretch until 6 months. Thereafter it was infrequent. He did not sleep through the night until 15 months and did not sleep well during the night until two and half. This child was in serious pain. He was doing the best he could.

Isolation: 

Because he was so upset between feedings, it was not feasible to get out of the house during maternity leave. He screamed, writhing in pain in the car and anywhere we went. We paced church hallways with a screaming child, and literally sprinted to get through Target. It was so stressful, it just wasn’t worth it.

With the snowy winter weather and screaming, we did not get out much. It was impossible to nurse around others because he would writhe and flail in discomfort as he nursed. I ended up locked in a bedroom nursing him at family events. Alone. During the day, I was too afraid to wake him, or too exhausted to talk on the phone. I quickly lost touch with many friends. I was incredibly lonely. I cannot express my gratitude to my husband, family, and a few close, persistent friends who lovingly stuck by my side.

The Emotional Toll:

The screams rattled me to the core. He was in pain and it was my job to comfort him. The one thing, nursing, that was supposed to soothe him, hurt him. I felt inadequate and like it was my fault, even though knew it wasn’t. I was failing him and could not fix this problem. At night, I became unable to sleep when he was. Since he refused bottles, I was in demand all the time. Any noise would jerk me fom sleep – wide awake, adrenaline pumping while praying he would keep sleeping. I was anxiety-ridden. I worshipped sleep but it eluded me as I pleaded and prayed to God first for relief for our son and then for sleep.

After 1-2 hours of non-consecutive sleep per night, I was a walking zombie. Looking back, I cannot believe I did not lose my job. I was underproductive and cranky. My boss and coworkers were understanding and helpful despite my edgy demeanor. I felt guilty for feeling relieved when I dropped him off at daycare and for enjoying time sitting in a quiet lab alone with my hands free. Every invitation from friend and family that required me to do something other than take care of our son, work, or sleep became overwhelming. I had no energy for anything else. Overwhelmed is a great way to describe how I felt that year.

Any physical pain from his abrupt motions and continual schedule were nothing compared to the emotional pain of not being able to help him. When I went back to the doctor at 6 months, they did a postpartum depression screening.  I answered how I thought I should. I look back now and see my shame that I wasn’t handling things well. At the time, I was afraid and unable to admit the truth to myself. At 10 months, I heard a woman from church talk about her struggles as a new mom. It finally gave me the courage to admit my need for help to my husband, and then to a doctor. I sobbed taking the depression survey and while explaining how poorly I was coping with sleep deprivation, stress of night feedings and daily life. The floodgates opened. I got help.

Much to be grateful for:

I was not alone, and neither are you. We all need support and help – don’t be ashamed to ask for it. My mom, sister and mother-in-law helped as much as they could. They drove across town countless times to bring food and to hold our son while praying over him so I could rest for a couple hours. He would often scream the whole time, refusing the pacifier and bottle. They did their best to soothe him. I am SO grateful for their help. He wore those loving arms out but they kept coming back

Our church small group blessed us with what I like to call ‘the parade of meals and encouragement’. Our close friends and family encouraged us, prayed for us, and were so gracious with me even though I was not able to be a good friend. They loved me anyway.

My husband did more squats than me and endured sleepless nights alongside me. Emotionally, he fared better than me and was my rock. He comforted, encouraged, and was unbelievably kind and gentle, even when I failed to be able to support him at all. We were a very tired mess but we were a team. I would have quit nursing if my husband hadn’t been my champion. If you support a mom who nurses ANY child, do not doubt that YOU play an important role!

God carried me through:

Psalm 63 became precious to me during that first year. My son’s name is written next to it in every Bible I own. I clung to these words in the middle of the night, calling out to my faithful Father on behalf of our son. HE was my ultimate help. The only way I made it through was by His grace and strength. Looking back, I see His good, strong hand carrying me through each and every night. He will carry you too, if you let Him.

You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water.
I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands.
I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you.
On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.
I cling to you; your right hand upholds me.
Psalm 63:1-8 (NIV, emphasis added)

The JOY:

No matter how little we slept, the mornings were our son’s best moments of the day. It was certainly the time when reflux hurt the least. Smiles and giggles flowed freely for those precious moments. My husband and I often waited to enter his room together so no one would miss a second of that joy.  These moments gave us real, tangible hope.

There is no difficulty or number of sleepless nights that could ever steal our love for our son. He is a priceless gift. I cherish his first year, regardless of the struggle. He was the joy of my day and being his mom is a blessing that challenges me and brings more fulfillment and joy than I could have ever imagined. Because we all struggled, I think we felt the excitement of new skills and successes even more strongly.

Please do not take any of this post as a complaint. It isn’t. I do wish our son had not been in pain, but he was. Wishing it had been different serves no purpose. The experience is part of who we are, as individuals and as a family. And so much good came from it. We were strengthened and our relationships grew in beautiful ways as we weathered it together. It made us more reliant on God and deepened our trust and faith. It equipped us to share our experience with other families dealing with similar issues. I am amazed by the number of families we have been able to support and encourage because of our experience. These are not small blessings, and we do not take them for granted. And, we are grateful our son, now 5, no longer struggles with reflux. There is hope yours won’t either.

 

He is Risen! – But We Must Have Faith To Claim Victory In Our Everyday Lives

John 1633

This Easter, the best way to celebrate the gift of Jesus is to share what God has been doing in my life this past year. Last year, Easter exposed a void in my faith that I ddin’t even know was there. Deeply painful at the time and very personal even today, I wasn’t sure I would ever share this here – but the work of God and His victories in our lives is always worth sharing, even when it is beyond our comfort level. Sorry, this is going to be a long one…Here goes…

Last spring, the women’s bible study studied the book ‘Fearless” by Max Lucado. After the first session, I arrogantly (and ignorantly) told my husband, “The book seems good, but I really don’t struggle with fear”.

Somehow, I thought that learning what God’s word has to say about fear didn’t apply to me –  a grievous mistake. We completed one chapter of the book before Easter.

You know how some years Easter seems to creep up on you? I’ve had plenty of years when I’ve neglected time with the Lord and haven’t been in His Word as much as I should have been. But, last year, I had been studying the book of Matthew in BSF. For months, I studied Jesus’ life and ministry. Last year I felt ready for Easter with the study of Jesus’ life and death fresh in my mind. I anticipated an Easter with family, filled with gratitude, joy and peace.

I entered the weekend on a perceived spiritual high, having no idea what was about to hit me. I was woefully unprepared.

With family visiting, we were invited to join the rest of my husband’s family at his mom’s church on Easter morning. The idea of those we love, standing together and worshipping the Lord is a joyful one.

What could go wrong?

We walked into the church (which is not our home church), and joined our family. As we took our kids to children’s programming, I noticed tables with donuts and pastries, a treat for the special day.

It took just one child running by me, carrying a pastry, dropping bits of almond on the floor for paralyzing fear to seize me. Our son has a nut allergy, and I had forgotten the Epi-Pens and Benedryl at home – an hour away. It isn’t that an Epi-Pen means safety. It does not! But not having it with me was negligent. It showed my lack of preparation and foresight that I usually have before walking into any unknown environment with our son.

I was as unequipped with his medications and planning, as I was in my own faith on a spiritual level.

I dropped him off in his room and had a sigh of relief as the staff asked me if he had allergies before I could tell them – even with it on the tip of my tongue in my now hyper-aware state. Initially they weren’t planning to provide a snack, so I felt comfortable that the room would be safe, even if the hallways were littered with nut-contaminated (albeit TINY) crumbs. I joined our family in the sanctuary and waited for the service to begin.

I tried to keep it together, but felt rattled. Unsettled.

A woman from the childcare came by and showed me a dixie cup of cookies and asked if my son could eat them. I told her without a label to read the answer was no. They came back later and asked about graham crackers, but again, no label. My anxiety climbed in the very room designated for the worship of the all-powerful God.

As the service began, I sang but the words came out hollow. I prayed for peace and protection. But I was preoccupied, fearful and frustrated with my own poor planning the entire service. My prayers pleaded but were powerless as fear exposed my unbelief.

It felt like both the longest and shortest Easter service I’ve ever been in. I longed for it to be done so I could hold our son, but I longed for it to continue so I could find peace and worship Him fully.

When it ended, people all around me were joyful. I felt defeated.

And still very afraid. I could not shake it. I was so ashamed that my faith was so weak. I was discouraged that it took so little to leave me feeling exposed and that I could not find peace. This was beyond anything I had ever felt or encountered before. It hurt.

I ran to our son and found him safe and sound. He had a wonderful time and told me all about how Jesus had risen. We met our family in the hallway. Many of them had donuts. I kept him close to me. As my son looked around, he asked for a donut. Squatting down, I told him that we were going to grandma’s to eat and had plenty of treats. I showed him how his mom, dad and sister didn’t have a donut either.  But as one might expect, he got upset. Tears welled up in his big brown eyes.

He lashed out, pushing me back and crying out in frustration. He was right. This wasn’t fair at all.

Now choking back my own tears, I signaled my husband we were leaving and scooped our son up as he wailed and ran to the parking lot. By the time I reached the car, we were both in tears. And now the poor child thought he was in trouble for pushing me. We were a mess. There was no way I was going to discipline him for being frustrated because yet again, he could not eat what everyone else was having. I was frustrated too, but grateful we were in the car, away from the crumbs.

I told him I was sorry he couldn’t have the donut and just hugged him until everyone else came out. I was afraid to say anything more because I didn’t want him to sense my fear. As we drove to my mother-in-law’s house, I tried to shake it off. I didn’t want to talk about being afraid in front of our son, so I didn’t talk to my husband about it.

The fear and startling lack of peace remained.  All day. As our children delighted in their lovingly and carefully prepared nut-free Easter eggs and baskets, as we laughed and talked, and as we celebrated the victory of Jesus Christ over death, and the sacrifice He made to save us from our sins.

Who would expect something as simple as a donut could bring me to my knees, shaking in fear on Easter Sunday? Certainly not me – I was on a spiritual high, remember?

Easter. The day that highlights the POWER of God and the sacrifice, love, grace and mercy of a willing savior. I was there to worship Jesus, who chose to come to earth, humbled in a human body, choosing to serve and forgive His own creation, even as they rejected Him – A creation that should have known He was their savior – A creation that scorned Him, plotted against Him, and ultimately killed Him although He had never sinned. Not once.

He chose to do it, and in doing so, He took upon Himself, not only my sins and but your sins if you believe, confess and call on His name. He died, willingly, not using His power to stop the pain, suffering, and injustice. Instead, He cried out asking the Father to forgive the very men who were crucifying Him. Then, of His own power, He died, and rose again 3 days later, conquering death and sin. He saved me. He chose me. Jesus is now in heaven, alive, mediating on my behalf, and God the Father now sees me through the lens of Jesus’ blood. Forgiven. Sinless. Holy.

If Jesus Christ is all this…how could I not believe that He could protect our son, whom HE created and loves, from a peanut?

As I wallowed in fear and sadness, Satan was momentarily victorious in my life on a day when I should have been joyously celebrating the victory of Jesus Christ. What more could Satan want than to steal the praise of God as I surrendered to fear? In doing so, I made the day about my own fear and lack of trust. A starling defeat in a season when I had been growing spiritually.

In the days that followed I felt shell-shocked. I downplayed my fear when I mentioned it my husband before bed that night, and then he left on a business trip in the morning. I couldn’t figure out why the fear remained and was so powerful. I decided not talking about it would make it go away.

I was wrong. Once you’ve experienced paralyzing fear, it is far too easy to let your mind wander to what could have happened. It is far too easy to let your mind dwell in dark places that only heighten the intensity of fear and fuel it with more power. I tried to ignore it, but instead it consumed my thoughts, running rampant.

Looking back, the entire situation caught me off guard for a few reasons. First, I had not yet experienced seizing fear about our son’s peanut allergy, even when he was diagnosed two years before. Why? I controlled his environment and food. I had never really had to trust Him because I was trusting myself. Second, my lack of preparation forced me to see my lack of control over our son’s safety. I never forget the Epi-Pen! Third, I tried to pretend I wasn’t afraid because I knew in my head I should trust God, but lacked the perspective and trust to surrender my son’s life.

While doing all I can to keep him safe is absolutely my job, there is simply no way I can control everything. Practically, I should have simply had him sit with us in church, because that would have been the safe and wise choice. And my lack of preparation was a problem I do not plan to repeat. But this was much more than just forgetting the Epi-Pen and being surprised by a donut. There was a much deeper heart issue. I had been so prepared up until that point that I had a false sense of security. By feeling like I had everything under my control, I didn’t have to face reality. I had never surrendered to or even considered the fact that I don’t have this all buttoned up. I never asked myself if I trusted God in this area.

Not having control and ability to keep our son safe was a new feeling – one I still don’t like. But it is the reality all parents face. We will all face fears; of allergies, strangers, accidents, bullies, and choices they will make. We will face the reality that we cannot possibly control everything in our children’s lives as they grow up. Whether we want to or not.

In the middle of the night, my husband out of town, I found myself seized by fear, and crying. Not just weeping, but I think I’ve heard it termed –ugly crying. That following Tuesday, still struggling, I shared with our bible study what had happened. In a rare show of public emotion, I not only teared up, but I sobbed. I choked on my words.  Women dug in their purses and handed me tissues, squeezed my shoulders and gave hugs. They offering wise and Godly advice. They prayed for me. I left encouraged instead of embarassed. They blessed my socks off

They changed my thinking by pointing me to a powerful God who can conquer all of my fears for me if I give surrender to Him and trust that He has them under control. This time, with the truth spilled and prayers of wise Godly women spoken on my behalf, when I then asked God to give me peace, I felt it. Tangible. Powerful. Real.

It wasn’t that the peace wasn’t available on Easter Sunday. It was. But I trusted what my eyes saw – nut covered pastry crumbs – and not what my faith and the Holy Spirit were shouting within me. I learned a very powerful lesson. Fear is a not to be underestimated. It cannot be ignored. It has to be addressed. It cannot be stuffed, or we will give it reign in our life. Delaying the admission of my fear was wrong, and at my detriment.

Fear must be named and brought into the light.

I know now that despite being deep in the study of God’s word, I had neglected to ask God what I was holding back. Self-reliance and thinking we are in control of anything is nothing but pride in disguise. It is dangerous. God was gracious to me by letting me experience the fear 2 years before I have to send our son to Kindergarten. Now I have time to learn to trust God all-the-more before that day. And as I gradually have to surrender my control of our son’s life as he grows up, I need to trust MORE and MORE in God’s control and sovereignty.

I still struggle with fear. As I’ve shared before, it rises often, and has surprised me time and time again this past year. In fact, I have struggled with fear this past year more than ever in my life. The situations I cannot control are not going anywhere and are increasing in frequency. They will continue without ceasing, until both of our children are adults and on their own.

But I refuse to give fear victory in my life. With every test of fear, with every prayer for peace and with every moment I surrender fear to God, the more powerful the light of Jesus shines and the less I dwell in the stifling darkness and oppression of fear. I am learning to turn to God rather than to allow rabbit trails of fearful daydreams. The greatest thing I have to report today is that I have consistently seen victory in the area of fear on a daily basis. It is not easy. Fear for me is an ongoing struggle but with daily struggle comes the opportunity for daily victory. And let me be clear – without the power of Jesus in my life, I am helpless against this fear. There is no victory without Him for me.

As I prepare for Easter this year, I look at Jesus’ victory over sin and death a little differently. Same Jesus. Same sacrifice. But I feel more victory in my life. I see how He has worked in me this past year to deepen my faith, to rely less on my own strength, and to strengthen and prepare me for new challenges. I have felt the peace and comfort that can only come from surrendering to His will and trusting that He will be with us. I know to my bones that no matter what I cannot control, He will still be God, He will still be good, and He IS faithful. I cannot hold onto anything too tight – even our children. I cling to the truth that they were HIS even before they were mine.  He loves them even more than I do.

This past year I have been given tangible evidence that He longs to carry our burdens, knowing I am ill-equipped to carry my own. He has shown me how thinking I don’t struggle with fear is an open door to let it consume me. I must be prepared and be willing to ask myself where I have not surrendered to God because I am controlling things and trusting myself instead of HIM. I find myself grateful for the struggle because the victory is so sweet. This fear is no joke. It rises up and it when it was exposed it felt like a wound ripped open that might never heal. But slowly, I’ve been equipped and althogh it rises up, the fear loses it’s power as I claim Jesus’ victory and promises in my life. I am grateful that instead of letting me dwell in fear, He redeems it and makes me stronger for the next time. At the cross, we become heirs to peace, and heirs to His victory.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” – John 16:33 (NIV)

He is risen! But we must walk in faith to share in His victory and we must let Him be God.

May He bless you richly as you consider His sacrifice this holy week.

Happy Easter.

6 Truths For A Mama-Attitude Adjustment When Our Work Feels Unnoticed

Some jobs are never done. The laundry never ceases, meals do not make themselves and dishes, beds, and bathrooms will be used and require cleaning. And the toys…here is one of the rooms I cleaned and organized this morning. Don’ think it looks bad? This is only 10 minutes later and they’re off in another freshly cleaned room wreaking havoc in there.

6 Truths For A  Mama-Attitude Adjustment When Our Work Feels Unnoticed | thisgratefulmama.com

My attitude varies. Many days, I enjoy the work and feel productive and fulfilled, even when my husband returns from work and the house is again in disarray, and the sink is again full of dishes.

Just what did we do today?

But more often than I’d like to admit, I feel self-pity; as if I were singled-out and sentenced to picking up toys and scrubbing toilets, again. Waking up to a pile of laundry to fold and more to be wash can be disheartening. Sometimes I desire recognition for the work that was done and unseen before the kids scattered every toy from the toy box, again. And some days, I feel the work is not worthwhile or of any lasting value.

But entertaining and dwelling in these selfish thoughts is both toxic, infectious and habit-forming. I no longer feel blessed, I feel controlled. When I could demonstrate good stewardship and a servant heart, I instead demonstrate how to sigh and be resentful while doing chores (no wonder our children struggle with this too!). Now, instead of serving my family and loving them, I’m looking at their dirty laundry, bed sheets and dishes as a burden. So wrong! These people I love (and their things) are not a burden!

This attitude is ungrateful…for our children and their playful hearts…for the blessing to stay home while my husband works equally as hard as I am (or harder)…for the washing machine and dryer and clean water available to me…for the carpet to vacuum, the floors to mop and the bathrooms to clean…for the abundant provision and blessing of God to our family.

Do you sometimes think your children need an attitude adjustment when they are begrudgingly doing chores, or complaining? I have told our kids to change their attitude many times. But we parents know all-too-well that this is no easy task. Once self-centered, negative, grumbling thoughts creep in…they are difficult to banish. When we have much to care for, we are blessed far more than we realize. But the mundane, repetitive nature of these daily tasks often leaves me short-sighted and unrateful.

I can admit that sometimes, this un-grateful mama needs a serious attitude adjustment.

I need to consider the truth of who we do this for, what it is we are doing, and why we are doing it. Then how we do it (our attitude) will follow suit. There is much to be grateful for today. This is the time to enjoy all of this. 

6 Truths For A  Mama-Attitude Adjustment When Our Work Feels Unnoticed

1. You Aren’t Singled Out

No matter what your job is, much of what is earnestly completed may go unnoticed. Unseen. Or must be repeated again and again. When I worked in the lab, the biohazard bins were filled, right after taking it out, and the samples for tomorrow came in even before we reported results from today. The same is true in corporate jobs; as one issue is resolved, two or three more come up. It may sometimes seem daunting, but in reality, is job-security.

As a mama at home, my children begin enjoying the room just cleaned, or drop crumbs on the floor before I’ve finished mopping the other end. Like everyone else, much of our work is behind-the-scenes, maintaining, cleaning, fixing, and living. In truth, I am no different than you, and we are no different than anyone else. Our work is no less recognized or unrecognized, even if it sometimes feels that way.

2. ‘Tis The Season

The chores of today will not always be. Welcome the season of life you’re in, and live IN it. Here and now.

Ask any mother of grown children – they know the truth and value of these busy days. They experienced children growing up and all the dishes, laundry, noise and chaos that came with it. They miss it. Caring for and raising children is a privilege. A time will come, with less mess, but also with fewer feet making noise and fewer mouths to feed. I, for one, am not ready for that. I like today. The future can’t be sped up or put off. Longing for a time with less mess is not just silly, it is a waste of the blessings I have now.

3. Gratitude Requires Practice

It is not easy to be grateful when scrubbing toilets after a potty-training toddler has left their mark. No, it’s downright hard. But, take time to practice. The more you do, the easier it will be to see things with eyes of gratitude instead of eyes of self-pity. Instead of seeing an unending pile of clothes, thank God for the people who wear them, and that your family is blessed to own such a large pile of laundry. When overwhelmed by the mountain of dishes, be grateful your family has food to eat, are healthy, and for the ability to prepare food in a clean kitchen. So what if you have to clean it? Instead of feeling resentment towards your spouse when they return from work not seeing what you did all day – recognize that you have no idea what mundane details and tasks they did all day either. Thank them for their hard work.

Wondering if I’m going to give thanks for those toilets? Sure am. It may be hard to see the rainbow here, but here goes – when tired of cleaning toilets that smell like the zoo, be glad you’re not cleaning an outhouse and have indoor plumbing. Furthermore, a toilet to clean and a toddler who is learning (and not wearing a diaper) are BOTH blessings worth my gratitude. Also recognize bleach for what it is – a gift.

4. Our Work Is Not Unnoticed

While the love of family can get us through many mundane tasks with a joyful attitude, we also need the hope of an eternal perspective. The Bible tells us that no matter what work we are doing, we do it for the Lord:

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” Colossians 3:23 – 24 (NIV)

And, as Philippians 2:4 points out, sometimes I just need to and obey and do whatever it is without complaining or arguing. When the tasks seem daunting or we are tempted to complain or feel neglected, we must remember that God sees everything. He knows every single thing we do. And (gulp) He knows our attitude while we do it. Your work may feel unrecognized, unnoticed, or unimportant, but the God who created you and loves you, sees you. D you get that? He. Sees. YouThis is no small thing.

5. Our Attitudes Have Long-Term Consequences

Be forward-thinking as you consider your long-term desire for your children, and your spouse. How do you want to be remembered?

I won’t care in 20 years if my children remember that I cleaned their toilets, or if my husband knows just how many times I picked up Legos today, even though they are now on the floor. What I don’t want them to remember is how I begrudgingly cooked, cleaned, and complained. It won’t matter how good the meal was if they felt I was irritated making it for them. When I complain, it is memorable and infectious. They will learn that these tasks are worth complaining about, and they will not enjoy doing them either because I will have taught them not to. These things are not what I want to impart to them.

No, I am actually OK if they don’t remember me doing any of these things if they remember I served them willingly and lovingly. I will know that I served them regardless of their response. Instead, I will cling to hope that when I see the Lord, I will be recognized for service and obedience to HIM that perhaps no one else on earth will ever know about. Good enough for me.

6. The Work Is Important

Mundane tasks have to be done. We have to eat. We cannot (well, should not) live in filth. Good stewardship is a life-lesson that must be taught. Cleaning and cooking are hygiene and health issues with lasting value and consequences. I can degrade the thought of these things by telling myself it is unimportant work, but it is simply not true. It may not feel like it, but I am imparting life lessons to our children and this is a serious, and important job.

Finally, I am responsible for my own attitude, and I choose my words and actions. It’s time to own them. I decide whether I will approach my work with gratitude and joy or self-pity and disgust. If I didn’t have this work to do…it would mean I didn’t have a family to care for, a house to live in, a job to go to, or a Lord to serve. I would desire and long for these jobs if I no longer had them.

Today as I scrub toilets, mop, cook, and fold laundry, again, I will take time to thank the Lord for the little and big feet who wear these socks, for the country we live in and the clean water, appliances and electricity we enjoy, and for the food that makes the crumbs on my floor and dirties our dishes.

And I will relish the thought that as I choose to do these things joyfully, in service to my family, that the God I love sees me and my work, even if no one else does.

 

linkupShared on A Wise Woman Builds Her Home Linkup.

 

 

On Peanut Allergy and LEAP – Why The Conflicting Emotions Among Allergy Parents?

I have been anticipating the LEAP study findings since hearing it was in progress almost 3 years ago. Our son was diagnosed with a peanut and cashew allergy in 2012. In the initial shock of the diagnosis, I started looking for any answers I could find.

WHY did he have this allergy, and what could we have done differently? Was it my fault for eating my body weight in peanuts while pregnant? What about while nursing? Was he too exposed? Underexposed?

When I stumbled across it, I was disappointed that the findings had not yet been published. If you aren’t familiar with the study, visiting the About LEAP page will explain the design better than I can. In general, the LEAP study looks to answer the question of whether avoidance of nuts or consumption of nuts at an early age makes a person more or less likely to develop a peanut allergy.

The site has been bookmarked on my computer since 2012. I’ve checked back often to see if there was any indication of when they would publish their findings. Results were expected as early as 2013, but it wasn’t until February 2015 when results were released.

I’m not the only one who anticipated the study, as is evidenced by the intense media coverage it is receiving in the wake of its release.

When the results were released, I read them with anticipation and excitement. You could check out the summary of results on the LEAP website but I would recommend reading the New England Journal of Medicine article for yourself. All children included in the study were classified as high-risk for a peanut allergy if they had an existing egg allergy and/or severe eczema, and no strong preexisting peanut allergy (strong was evidenced by a skin wheel (or hive) from skin testing larger than 4 mm).

In the LEAP study, of 834 potential participants, 76 had wheels over 4 mm before the study began and were excluded. This means these children were 4 to 11 months of age and already had significant allergy (See Figure 1 – Methods section of the journal article). 76 may sound like not very many, but is close to 10%, albeit from a high risk group of children sought out for inclusion in the study. Groundbreaking study or not, LEAP may be of little help to parents whose children are high-risk for an allergy and developed a strong peanut allergy before they were 4-11 months of ageWhile we embrace that knowledge about peanut allergies is increasing, we are still waiting on and longing for answers as to why these children are at such high risk in the first place.

But there is certainly valuable and solid information here for those children who are not highly allergic before the age of 4 months.

As summarized on the LEAP website, the study yielded these exciting results:

Of the children who avoided peanut, 17% developed peanut allergy by the age of 5 years. Remarkably, only 3% of the children who were randomized to eating the peanut snack developed allergy by age 5.   Therefore, in high-risk infants, sustained consumption of peanut beginning in the first 11 months of life was highly effective in preventing the development of peanut allergy.

A difference of 14% of children developing or not developing an allergy is significant. It means if your child doesn’t already have a strong early onset allergy, but is at risk of developing one, giving them peanut products at an early age may (no guarantees) help prevent an allergy. And, if they have a minor allergy (wheel less than 4mm), they may still be helped by feeding them nuts, although would require supervision and care of a medical professional.

Results like these give parents something they CAN do to help their high risk child. To give them their best shot. There is no mistaking that the results hold very important truth and tangible results for the right circumstances.

It is going to change the recommendations. It is paving the way for further study as we speak. A biochemist by training, MORE information is always a good thing, right?

Not necessarily.

The study leaves me with conflicting emotions. I feel like I’ve been on a roller coaster all week.

When you look at the allergy community, the study has received acclaim, praise, frustration, and resistance.

Why so emotional?

  • Too little too late: Information is power, but now my daughter is 2 and has never eaten a peanut. We are a peanut free household. Our allergist told us she has a higher chance of developing a peanut allergy than other children because of our son’s allergy (a.k.a. our family genes). We were told to use caution introducing peanuts. When I asked if it was OK to wait until her 2nd birthday, there was no indication it was a bad idea. According to this study, we may have now waited one year too long to do the only thing that has been shown to possibly prevent development of a peanut allergy. So, although the study is relevant, groundbreaking even, the findings may not be able to help her. Yet…we pray she may never develop a peanut allergy.
  • We may be resistant: Defensive even. Information published on the internet can be simply false, or taken out of context. The first statement I saw did not mention the LEAP study name, but stated that we should ALL feed peanuts to 4 month old infants to prevent peanut allergy. It was out-of-context and missing important cautions and caveats. Alarming – and dangerous. The post left me feeling skeptical and defensive. It is my duty to read information for myself, and to draw educated conclusions with an open mind. It would be a grievous error to rely on someone else’s write-up, emotions, or opinion. We should be excited that people are spending their time studying peanut allergy and to read their findings, whatever they are. When I actually read the entire LEAP study, I agreed that this study is impressive, important, and demonstrates something we didn’t already know about peanut allergies. It is nothing to scoff at and needs to be taken seriously. But it needs to be viewed and written about within the proper context.
  • We feel attacked:  There are some who think we caused our children’s allergies and aren’t afraid to share it all over the internet.  I read this article and it describes very well how parents can be bullies too and requests empathy – it is well worth your time to read. But  the LEAP study does not say parents are to blame. It says feeding children peanuts early may help, but it will not help all of them. There is no way to go back and see which child would or would not develop an allergy. And guess what? Many of the children in the allergy community had life-threatening reactions before 4 months. Their faces swelled up and maybe they stopped breathing after being kissed by peanut-butter tainted lips. Many children had severe eczema, or reactions to breast milk after their mother ate peanuts.
  • We feel guilty: Although the LEAP study does not point blame, we blame ourselves. We cannot help it. Finding out now that feeding our children nuts at an earlier age could have even POSSIBLY prevented our child’s peanut allergy brings a disturbing and painful pang of mama-guilt. It feels awful, warranted or not. No one else needs to point a finger at us because we’ve had it pointing at ourselves since day one. We wondered if those nuts we ate (or didn’t eat) while pregnant made this happen. We wondered what we did wrong and have assumed we did something wrong.
  • We are frustrated: The LEAP findings contradict how I and many other parents fed our children at early ages. We followed recommendations of trusted allergists and pediatricians. Many of us were aware of food allergy dangers and consulted reputable sources like the American Academy of Pediatrics and American Academy of Asthma and Allergy. Avoidance was recommended in 2000. Recommendations were slightly modified in 2008 and furthermore in 2013, but that doesn’t mean all pediatricians and allergists were on board. Infant nutrition and care books were not up to date. We did research these things, but just didn’t know what we and the medical community did not yet know.
  • We have questions: While some answers have come to light, 100s more have popped up in their place. There is much left to learn, and we don’t fully understand what this all means yet. The LEAP study is great, but long term effects are yet unknown (awesome that they are continuing follow up in the LEAP-ON study as we speak).
  • We are grateful: In wake of the amazing developments of potential therapies like the Viaskin(R) peanut patch, the LEAP study findings, and more, science is making huge advancements in understanding how to help the allergy community. We are grateful. We are grateful for parents and children in the clinical trials and studies. We are grateful for those investing their time, careers, and funding. The knowledge is increasing, and the understanding being gained is invaluable. It is bound to change the allergy world forever. And soon. Thank you.
  • We are hopeful: Even if the LEAP study shows results that are too late for many of us to use the information, those having babies now will benefit. We hope allergy rates will go down. We don’t want ANY child to have a food allergy, even if our child does already. We hope the therapies will be effecive. We hope for science to find answers, causes, and cures. We anticipate these things and cling to hope for tools that will change our children’s lives.
  • We are forgiving: We are also frustrated that with all the new findings, there is still no concrete way to prevent infant peanut (and other) allergy. For many of us, even if we’d known and fed our child peanuts at 4 months, it may not have changed anything. We accept where we are now, where we’ve been, and instead of pointing fingers we look forward to future advancements. We forgive ourselves for our part as we forgive the medical community who is learning about allergies with new revelations, just as we are. And, we choose to forgive the community of ignorant people who feel the need to blame us.

 

It is important to note that not everyone within the allergy community has these feelings. But the care of our children and loved ones, and their safety is so important, that emotions are bound to run high. If it seems like some of us are conflicted, we are.

I am.

Infant Silent Reflux is NOT Silent – Our Experience Navigating Reflux Treatment

Infant Silent Reflux is NOT Silent - Our Experience Navigating Reflux Treatment | thisgratefulmama.com

This is the second post in a series on Infant Silent Reflux. Before reading this, it will be helpful to read about Our Search For An Answer To Our Baby’s Cries, which explains what Silent Reflux is, and our path to diagnosis.

The only thing I’ll repeat from the previous post is this – Let me be clear: This article is not a complaint about that first year. This is how life was for our family. I write this to share with other parents whose children also hurting.  Sharing our experience has two purposes: to help hurting children, and to give encouragement to their parents. It takes a village…

Doctors diagnosed our son with silent reflux at 7 weeks. The pain had a name that made no sense – Infant Silent Reflux is NOT silent.

Once diagnosed, the first treatment step was medication. We started Zantac (Ranitidine).  A clear, strongly peppermint flavored liquid that made me sure he would hate peppermint forever. Every dose was a battle – it was almost impossible to get him to swallow it, no matter how many times I blew on his face or how loud he cried.

We saw mediocre results. With painful reflux symptoms causing all night crying from day 1, and treatment not beginning until week 7, it was like throwing a bucket of water on a forest fire. He still had all the same symptoms mentioned in the previous post but the medication seemed to take the edge off and feedings were a little more manageable at night. At least, for a little while – Zantac dosage and effectiveness is weight-dependent, so after a couple of weeks, it stopped working because he was growing so fast.

Our doctor recommended changing my diet to see if we saw additional improvement. I kept a food journal. I stopped eating all dairy (yogurt, cheese, milk, you name it), and anything citrus or acidic (tomatoes, oranges, berries, peppers, etc.). We saw what we thought to be limited and gradual improvement, but when I tried to add these foods back into my diet, he got worse. It was clear that my diet, dairy especially, mattered. So, I refrained from eating quite a few things for a year. I learned later that dairy takes a very long time to leave your system and even longer to leave theirs. If dairy is adding to the symptoms, you may not see marked improvement for a month. If you suspect it – cut it for 4 weeks and then see what happens when you add it back in.

A quick note about Zantac before continuing: Most of your stories will end with Zantac: A couple of years later when our daughter showed symptoms of reflux at 4 weeks, we knew exactly what it was. We took her in right away and the doctor agreed. She was on Zantac a short time, and it was enough to allow healing and the muscles to tighten and prevent further damage. She has never struggled with reflux again and will be 2 in March. From the families we know who have struggled with reflux, very few children go on to need additional medication, and most are entirely off of all medication by the age of 6 months. Of approximately 30 families we’ve talked to so far, I know of only 4 who have continued medication through 1 year, and know of only two other families whose children have had reflux as a toddler like our son.

I wish I could say that Zantac and modifying our diet was the end of our son’s story with reflux, but it isn’t. We continued monitoring my diet and increasing his Zantac dose as needed until the week before I had to go back to work (11 weeks).

Then things got crazy.

The reflux was out-of-control. The crying was unstoppable. The Zantac dose was maxed out. They wanted to switch him to Prilosec suspension (Omeprazole). We weren’t real excited about giving him more medicine since the first didn’t seem to help much. The doctor explained that while Zantac is a histimine-2 blocker, Prilosec is a proton-pump inhibitor. Both reduce acid produced by the stomach, but through different mechanisms in the body. In our doctor’s words, if a person doesn’t respond to Zantac, they often respond better to Prilosec. It gave us hope and we were willing to give it a shot.

The medicine tasted like chalk (so, of course, he didn’t like it). He was supposed to improve measurably after one week on the medication.

He did not.

My first week back to work, my husband and our family took turns watching him during the day. Our son wore those loving arms (and backs) out! He was supposed to start daycare the following week…now what? We were terrified to leave him with someone else, and terrified for the provider who would have not only him, but a handful of other children needing her attention. There was no way a daycare provider would be able to handle him along with the other children in her care.

We took him back to the doctor. He had an upper GI. As he choked down the barium, it was confirmed he had reflux but no physical twist, turn, or abnormality requiring surgery. Good news, but there was no indication as to WHY he had reflux. But, knowing reflux was present validated the reason we were pumping him full of the max dose of reflux medication.

On the way home from the upper GI, I refilled his Omeprazole prescription. I was shocked when given a completely different looking liquid, with different labeling than the last bottle; same medication name, but different consistency, color, and storage conditions. It still tasted like chalk, but the new bottle worked far better. Right away.

The daytime became manageable.

I took the remainder of the first bottle and the new bottle back to the pharmacy and spoke with a pharmacist. They admitted the first bottle should have had the same labeling as the new bottle, but would not admit it was made incorrectly. Honestly, to this day I have no idea if it was even the right medication in the bottle or not. I now ask plenty of questions when I pick up medication at the pharmacy – there is no guarantee the medication you receive is correct (how scary is that?).

We switched pharmacies and filed a complaint at both the local and corporate level.

At 13 weeks, our son went to daycare. We were blessed beyond measure by an experienced, patient and kind woman. He was loved, well cared for, and she never complained that he was difficult.  Not once. No words can ever express my gratitude to her for how she cared for him. She would tell me, in a matter-of-fact-way how he had done each day, never with any indication that she was burdened by him when he had a rough day. And he had plenty of rough days.

Although the Omeprazole, correctly made, worked leaps and bounds better than that first bottle, we noticed that towards the end of every bottle, our son’s symptoms were worse. Then, every time we opened a fresh bottle, the medication seemed to work better. After tracking it closely, it seemed like our 30 day supply worked great for 2 weeks, then gradually decreased in effectiveness over the next 2 weeks.

As a biochemist, I am familiar with stability testing. I suspected a stability issue and asked the (new) pharmacist about it. She said it should be stable, but if he was on the edge of the dosage, we might see a gradual decrease over time. She was willing to break our prescription into two, as an experiment. We paid up front for a full 30 day supply, but she gave us half of the volume. 15 days later, we then picked up a freshly prepared bottle, with the remaining volume from the 30 day prescription.

Breaking the 30 day supply of Omeprazole into two fresh bottles showed measurable improvement. We know of at least 4 other families who have seen symptoms increase over the course of a 30 day bottle who have also switched to a 15 day supply. While our evidence of a stability problem is purely anecdotal, it has helped more than just our child. Our pharmacist could not continue breaking it into two because of billing issues since the prescription was written for 30 days. She suggested we get a 15 day supply prescription from the doctor. We were happy to pay double the co-pays for mediation that actually worked well the whole time.

And so we continued on. While the days were going well, night-time was another story. From 8 pm until morning, it was hard. I’ll describe the nights in a post dedicated to sleep in coming weeks. In the meantime, if you are a sleep deprived parent of a hurting child, my heart goes out to you. I wrote a post when thinking about you, months ago. Sleep deprivation is serious business. You are not alone. Sleep did eventually come to our house. It will come to yours as well. Bless you.

While sleep eluded us for a long time, our son’s symptoms did gradually decrease over the course of the first year. Even though he didn’t sleep much at night, he screamed less and less, and with decreasing intensity as time went on. By 12 months, he slept through the night for the first time, and by 15 months we were able to wean him off of the medication and he eventually slept through the night.

Why was our son’s case so severe? I’ve asked several pediatricians, an allergist and a Gastroenterologist. No one knows for sure. But there are a few things they all agreed may have contributed:

  1. He had symptoms from day 1, which we learned is highly unusual. In fact, most doctors say babies don’t even have stomach acid at that point. I don’t know what this means, other than his case is different from others
  2. There were dietary issues we knew contributed (dairy, citrus), but there were more that we didn’t know about. At 15 months, we discovered an unknown peanut and cashew allergy (and he had a mama who was eating bucket loads of nuts and peanut butter while avoiding dairy while nursing…sigh…knowledge truly can be power)
  3. Since he had symptoms early but was growing fast (not failing to ‘thrive’), the doctors failed to treat the pain early, and we failed to persist in making them treat him
  4. He grew so fast and was treated so late, it seemed like we were always behind the proper dose of Zantac for his weight. It just wasn’t enough
  5. The Omeprazole first given to our son at 11 weeks was certainly stored improperly (room temperature vs. required refrigerated conditions that likely affected stability), and possibly made incorrectly to begin with. This means our son was basically un-medicated (or at least improperly medicated) at the point when his symptoms had peaked, requiring Omeprazole to be prescribed in the first place. I am convinced this snafu caused additional damage and lengthened his recovery. Add in the apparent stability issues with the 30 day supply and it wasn’t until 6 months before he was treated with full strength Omeprazole on a consistent basis.

Look for future posts that will describe our experiences with toddler reflux and reflux sleep (or lack-of). Also read about my personal experience nursing and caring for our son during his first year.

If you found this story to be like yours – don’t hesitate to get your child help. If you need more information sooner than the next post, email me (thisgratefulmama[at]gmail.com). I’m happy to share anything I know and help in any way I can.

Infant Silent Reflux is NOT Silent – Our Search For An Answer To Our Baby’s Cries

silent reflux is not silent image

I think it’s time to do a little series on our experiences with infant and toddler reflux (GERD).

I’ve been shocked over the past few years by the number of people who have asked questions about our experience with our son and daughter. I rarely go more than a month without reflux coming up in a conversation, email, or phone call – because a beloved child is hurting.

These friends, family and acquaintances want answers. They need someone to validate their intuition that something just isn’t right. They want hope – someone to tell them that a doctor was able to help our child and will be able help theirs. They want to know what questions to ask.  Sometimes after we talk, the conclusion is that their child’s symptoms do not sound like reflux, but all-too-often, what is described sounds like reflux.

Regardless of the situation, I always point them towards going to their doctor. I am not a doctor. I can only share our experience and encourage you to get help for your child if you think something is wrong. Please check with a medical professional to confirm whatever you suspect.

When I started this blog, I thought reflux would be one of the first topics I’d write about. But in truth, I’ve held back on posting about our experience.

Why?

It’s complicated. It is painful to recall those moments when we could do nothing to console our hurting child. And because there is SO much information about our experience, it is hard to organize my thoughts. Oh, and it is hard to remember details out of the haze that was one year of severe sleep-deprivation.

But, most of all, I paused because I want to be sure what I write honors our son. Sometimes when I share with other parents, they tell me how sorry they are that he was a ‘difficult’ baby. But it wasn’t HIM that was difficult. What was difficult was that he HURT.

Sure, it was a hard first year for all of us. And he did cry. A lot…all night long, night after night.  But he was a beautiful, sweet baby boy. He just hurt. A hurting baby can’t help themselves so they express their pain through tears. Silent reflux is a terrible and painful thing. His whole body told a story of pain as it tensed, writhed, and screamed until his voice rattled and he had no air and was gasping for it.

But he was our baby, our son, an immense joy and blessing. He smiled, giggled, and talked – melting our hearts. It was just that those moments were less frequent and all-too-brief because they happened between bouts of pain. But those special moments were no less profound or fulfilling, and are cherished.

Let me be clear: This article is not a complaint about that first year. This is how life was for our family. I write this to share with other parents whose children also hurting.  Sharing our experience has two purposes: to help hurting children, and to give encouragement to their parents. It takes a village…

If you are reading this because your child is hurting, I hope this points you in the right direction. If this helps just ONE family, it has achieved its purpose. I hope this encourages you – whether your child has symptoms of reflux or another source of pain, know we understand what it means to care for a hurting child. I’m glad you’re here. Looking for answers is a great place to start helping your child.

Today’s post is our story of searching for an answer. Many of you have a similar story, only after diagnosis and starting medication, it will be the end of your story. The medication will reduce acid and help your child’s muscles heal and tighten. Your story will be short – I hope and pray it is! Our story did not end there. I will tell that part of our story at a later date, but sharing how we go to the point of identifying the problem will help the most people, so I’m starting here.

Our story:

We named our son Aiden. We loved that Aiden means “little fire”.  Never in our wildest dreams did we think he’d be born with a fire of acid in his belly that would cause him pain.

He screamed all night long, inconsolably, from the first night in the hospital, through most of the next 10 months. In the first weeks, it was my mom who observed that even when sleeping, he was never relaxed; his fists clenched, his back arched, and crying out in his sleep. Although he certainly had moments of calm, especially in the early morning when he hadn’t eaten yet, they were short and infrequent. And the older he got, the worse it got.

As a first time mom, I knew babies cried. But what did I know? Who was I to say that our child cried too much? It felt like it was saying he wasn’t good, or wasn’t normal, or that I wasn’t equipped to be his mom. At his one and two week appointments, I told his doctor I was concerned about how much he cried. But I was unsure of myself and my assessment – especially when my son was bafflingly calm EVERY time we entered the clinic. So weird! I didn’t go into detail, and didn’t really explain that he cried ALL night long, or that feedings were a disaster. I figured I was doing something wrong nursing him and that like all the moms told me…at some point soon, ‘it would click’.

Since Aiden was growing (99% on the growth chart the first 6 months), the doctor wasn’t concerned with how much he cried. He explained to me that some babies cry, a lot. Perhaps it was colic. He told me colic often has no explanation and goes away on its own after peaking at 6 weeks. I felt like he was telling me I was over-reacting. I doubted myself and didn’t press the issue.

But in reality, it was an understatement to say that we were concerned. Something did not seem right and I couldn’t accept there might not be an answer.

Night after night, at 3 am, as our child screamed in my arms, I cried with him. I prayed for help, for sleep, for healing, for silence. I was his mother, helpless to soothe him, even with nursing. During the day, he wanted to nurse endlessly; he would have nursed for 10 months straight if that was possible for either of us. I learned later that he was self-medicating; soothing his throat from burning. At night, nursing was different. Frantic. He would be desperate to eat, only to push away and scream, writhing in pain. It was awful for him. And for me. Most night nursing sessions took hours. My poor husband would find us both crying in an actual puddle. He would graciously and lovingly scoop him out of my arms and take a shift pacing the house.

The nights were LONG.

No amount of walking, rocking, singing, shushing, dancing, swaying, swinging, swaddling, or standing still made a difference. The only thing that seemed to give him pause was what I’d call the deep squat. UP, down, UP, down, UP, down…I did more squats after giving birth than I have my entire life. And so did my husband. Squats would soothe him for a while as he’d look at us, wide-eyed…but as our legs, and back and arms gave out, so did the silence.

Not a really viable solution – you can only do so many squats.

I researched all kinds of causes of colic. I remembered a co-worker mentioning their child had acid mild reflux and required medication. I had never had heartburn, so it was hard for me to understand how it could be this painful. And, he never spit up – ever! But I remembered stories of adults with heartburn thinking they were having a heart attack and spending the night in the ER. When I first experienced heartburn during my second pregnancy, I realized just how awful my son felt for that entire year. It broke my heart all over again.

I researched colic, hoping to find a reason for his cries, and was often pointed towards infant reflux. But almost all references to infant reflux symptoms at that time noted that babies with reflux refused to eat and lost weight, causing failure to thrive. Our son didn’t spit up. At the time, I didn’t understand that at night as we struggled with nursing, he was refusing to eat.

Information on silent reflux wasn’t really out there – or at least, I couldn’t find it.

Finally, I found one mom’s account of her son. Their story echoed our own (I wish I could find it to thank her!). Her son, like ours, was not failing to thrive, and was also bafflingly calm in the clinic. After refusing to accept his symptoms were colic and could not be explained, she took him to other doctors and found someone who agreed with her. They diagnosed him with silent reflux. I had never heard of it.

Silent reflux is when your child has acid reflux but never spits up. Acid comes up from the stomach because the sphincter muscle at the top isn’t strong enough to close tightly. But what makes it ‘silent’ is that instead of spitting it up, they swallow it. It burns coming up and going back down. A lot. A baby should be content after they eat, but with silent reflux, it brings pain. They arch their back, throw their heads back and clench their fists – without relief. Some babies refuse to eat while others want to nurse slowly all day long.

Let’s get something straight before describing how you can identify reflux that is painful: All babies have reflux to some degree. Your child may have gurgly burps or spit up a lot but this doesn’t mean you need to be concerned. What matters is whether it hurts them.

Although most literature says a baby can’t have acid reflux right away because they don’t have stomach acid yet, our son’s symptoms were the same on day 1 as at 7 weeks, only at 7 weeks they were worse. Much worse.

Our sons’ symptoms of painful silent reflux included:

  • excessive crying that was worse at night. A whole body cry – red in the face, voice rattling, gasping for air
  • basically never slept or slept for only 40 minutes of fitful sleep at a time (there will be a separate post dedicated to our experience with reflux baby sleep)
  • would cry out in pain during sleep, especially after eating
  • repeated hiccups – not just a nuisance, they were obviously painful and would last forever. My daughter had hiccups too, but not like these. They were vicious
  • audible gurgling in his throat, followed often by red-faced coughing fits or sound of clearing his throat
  • body always tense, fists clenched
  • not content after eating, often with back arched and screaming in pain
  • during the day, wanted to nurse constantly (self-soothing) but never seemed satisfied
  • at night, frantic to nurse, only to pull back in pain and scream, then be frantic to nurse again (frantic to eat to eat, starting to eat, refusing to eat, repeat). This is the ONE repeated symptom that I’ve heard the most from other parents
  • diapers were not normal – runny, greenish, acidic (we did not know this at the time – we had no idea what a normal newborn diaper looked like until my daughter was born)

That mom’s story gave me the motivation to keep hunting for an answer. Her words gave us confidence to demand a response from the doctor and to describe, in detail, EVERYTHING that was happening. It took countless phone calls to nurses and lactation specialists, doctor visits, and finally nursing him in the clinic with a lactation specialist to diagnose him. It took the lactation specialist less than 5 minutes to figure out what was going on after our son finished eating and began writhing in pain (if you think your child has reflux and have trouble getting someone to agree, I’d reach out to the lactation specialist at your pediatrician’s office).

They diagnosed him with silent reflux at 7 weeks.

The pain had a name that made no sense – Infant Silent Reflux is NOT silent.

Read more about our experience navigating reflux treatmentmy personal experience nursing and caring for our son during his first year. and look for future posts that will describe our experiences with toddler reflux and reflux sleep (or lack-of). If you found this story to be like yours – don’t hesitate to get your child help. If you need more information sooner than the next post, email me (thisgratefulmama[at]gmail.com). I’m happy to share anything I know and help in any way I can.