Girl Talk

We've been watching some of the 1970's "Little House on the Prairie" series with our kids at bedtime. In a couple episodes Laura has had a crush on a boy, or Mr. Edwards has dated a lady in town, or Johnny Johnson has been smitten by a pretty (and immodest) girl. So the idea of boys liking girls, and the idea of dating have now been raised in the minds and hearts of my girls. (Sigh) I can't keep them four years old forever.

Naomi's been acting a little shy when the subject comes up. Hannah's been spending more time than usual in front of the mirror--brushing her hair, changing her clothing, and rarely satisfied with what she sees. "I don't think I'm as cute as Laura is," she once openly despaired. This made me laugh when I thought of Laura's long braids and buck teeth. I had to assure Hannah that she was beautiful inside and out, but that the loving heart inside of her was what made the outside so pretty. "Aw," she shook her head, "I still don't think I'll ever be pretty like Laura."

Tonight, as the sunlight faded, and Matt and I tucked the kids in their beds, I lay down beside Naomi and joked that I was going to have a slumber party in her bed with her. "Could we?" she asked, with all seriousness.

"Oh, I think Elijah would get jealous," I answered.

"Well, just until he wakes up?" she pleaded.

Normally in a hurry to give them all a quick kiss and steal away for some time by myself, tonight I paused my busy day and snuggled up beside my daughter and had a girl talk--just what we both needed. I told her a couple stories about childhood friends and games and how I used to ride my imaginary horse, Cheyenne, everywhere I went when I was Naomi's age. It wasn't long before Hannah and Emma had climbed into Naomi's bed too and we had a full-blown slumber party going.

I told them a story about how my best friend in 2nd grade, who happened to be named Laura, had moved to Colorado and how she had returned when we were in 6th grade, only for us to discover we wouldn't be friends anymore. "Why?" Hannah probed.

"Well..." I searched for the right words, "Because she had grown to care about having just the right clothes, and the prettiest hair, and being popular, and having all the boys like her...And I knew those things weren't important. I didn't want to be friends with someone like that, and she didn't want to be seen with someone who wasn't popular."

This led to a wonderful discussion of true beauty, of what to look for in a husband someday, and of the joys and follies of high-school dating relationships. "The most important thing," I summed up, "is to find a man who loves God with all his heart. And if you love God with all your heart, you will be the most beautiful girl to him, and you will always be best friends."

"Oh, of course," Hannah said, " I already know that."

Maybe she was just in need of a reminder, I don't know, but we all seemed to enjoy the talk. I'm glad the lines of communication on this subject are open now at the ages of eight, six, and four. I pray they stay wide open as we enter the teenage years. The girls from my dormitory at the boarding school we worked at know I have plenty of dating advice to hand out, sprung from my own mistakes and regrets. Guiding three girls through the troubled waters of teenage relationships is an enormous task before me. I'm grateful they gave me the chance tonight to get a jump start on the journey.

Toby's False or True

Toby, Emma, and Hannah are sitting at breakfast right now, playing a game of true or false, or rather, as Toby calls it, "False or True."

"I should treat Emma like my blaster: false or true?" Toby calls out to his sisters, who reward him with giggles and assure him that the answer to that is false.

"OK," Toby replies, gearing up for his next question, "I should line all of the bananas up for a spank: false or true?"

More giggles ensue. Hannah decides to mix it up by answering, "True."

"OK," Toby laughs. He goes over to the bananas, gives them each a slap, then gets distracted by just how much that bunch of bananas resembles a helmet. Turning them upside down on his head he announces, "This is my helmet!" Singing a little "dee dee deee" song, he dances around the kitchen, gaining further encouragement from Elijah who has been watching from his highchair, and is clearly amused.

When the banana-helmet show is over Toby returns to his breakfast, but deciding he is more nourished by peer-approval than chocolate chex, he continues his quiz.

"I should take all of these chairs to time-out: false or true?"

"True!" Hannah agrees.

"I should go potty: false or true?"

"True!" I yell from my office.

Toby laughs, caught off guard by my response. "Never mind!" he yells to me, on his way to the bathroom, "You don't ever say that to me!" Which, I believe means something like, "Nobody invited you to play, so mind your own business."

Once the potty business is finished, Toby emerges from his chrysalis transformed into a ravenous tiger. He spies the easiest prey (Emma), and benevolently warns her, "I'm a tiger! And I can eat anything I see!"

The chase is on. It's 8:30am, and another day at the Eby house has begun. Sigh. I should leave my computer, get dressed, and do some housework: false or true?

Mommy Accomplishments

I miss my blog. I miss sorting out my thoughts in my quiet office with my cup of coffee while Toby and Elijah nap. But we have been parted, my blog and I.

Toby is outgrowing his nap. This is a very sad development for me. I would like to still put him in his room each afternoon for some "quiet" time, but Elijah is now learning to nap in his crib next door, and Toby still can't remember instructions to be "quiet" longer than a minute or two. This means Toby stays up and plays loudly, Elijah gets woken early and screams, and I get...well...not much of a break right now. Alas. But this is not the only reason I've had to put the blog aside.

I've also been feeling convicted about being more intentional when it comes to raising my kids. When they're so little if you keep them clean, fed, and safe, and if you teach them the basics of obeying rules, sharing toys, and other social skills, you are a good parent. There may be some time left over to blog. But they are growing now, and I'm starting to feel behind. I've been devoting two evenings a week now to swimming lessons at my in-laws' kiddie pool, and I'm pleased to announce that Naomi's swimming pretty well now, and Hannah and Emma aren't far behind. One point for me. Bike riding lessons have been put on hold entirely due to the heat. I am still trying to potty train Toby, and still failing, but I just got another idea for incentive when he dove into the matchbox cars display at Wal-Mart and tried to pick up armfuls of cars before I drug him away. One potty chart with Matchbox car rewards coming up. That would be $0.98 really well spent if it works!

Then there's my littlest time thief. I spent the last week trying to get baby gates installed at the top and bottom of my stairs because Elijah is rolling around now, and may not be far from crawling. There's mischief in his eyes and no carpet on my stairs, so baby gates are a must. One gate had to be installed into a hollow plaster wall, so it took some creativity, three trips to the hardware store (with five kids in tow), and serious woodworking skills to create a solidly anchored piece of wood to install the gate into. But they're up now, and they are not coming down. Elijah's also getting to like his baby food meals, which is great, but time consuming to prepare, serve, and clean up three times a day. I did let Naomi feed Elijah yesterday and it went pretty well until Elijah grabbed the spoon from her and flung baby food all over his face. At least we had a good laugh.

When I do get a small window of calm in my day I now sit down with Emma at the kitchen table for her daily speech therapy. Some days it kills me, because I so want to just relax, but I know I need to do this for her...every day...no exceptions. And she wants me to help her, reminding me one day, "Doh or-geh my pee er-a-pee!" (Don't forget my speech therapy.)

So I spread yogurt on the back of a spoon
and move it around the outside of her mouth, while she attempts to lick it, to help her learn to control that unruly tongue. We smack our lips and paint the roof of her mouth with yogurt. Then we work through speech flashcards that her therapists have sent home for her to practice. We're especially targeting "n," "t," "d," and "s." Last we spend 20 minutes working through the book, "Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons." I like this book because it is very slow and incremental and spends a good deal of time pronouncing words slowly and then fast, which works out to be excellent speech practice for Emma as well as reading preparation. We just finished Lesson 13 where Emma read her first three-word sentence today, and she was so proud of herself.

It is worth every minute. It's worth it to see her now pronouncing many words much more clearly (N, T, D, and S are in a lot of words!), and to hear from everyone around her how much more they can understand her now. It's worth it to see her confidence soar, and her personality bloom. Exhausting, but worth it.

At the end of the day, when I lay in bed, I never wish I had spent more time relaxing. Lately, I've been so glad that I've put in the extra effort: Elijah is safe and well fed, Toby might someday learn to use the potty consistently (maybe), Hannah and Naomi are swimming, and most exciting of all Emma's speech is improving.

It's a good thing I'm feeling encouraged and energized, because bike riding lessons will need to commence soon, and thanks to the generosity of someone who thought my kids should have a piano, it looks like piano lessons are next on the agenda.

I miss my blog, but I may be away for awhile. Here's to meeting again soon, with lots of accomplishments to report.

No Running...And No More Happiness!

She was a probably a nice old lady, in her purple smock, volunteering at the hospital, and she probably doesn't understand just why I became so defensive. I'm not sure that I fully know either, only that she was concerned with rules and not people, and that I felt judged.

She didn't know that I had woken early to prepare the bags and driven 1 1/2 hours in the damp morning heat with my 5 children for my daughter's nephrology appointment. She didn't know that my children had sat still for that time, then been reined in for another hour of quiet, controlled behavior in the doctor's office, then sat still and ate with their heads over the table so as not to drop crumbs in the hospital atrium. She didn't know that I had first asked my children not to run when they got up from lunch, but I had reconsidered.

The atrium was empty. Not a soul sat at the four tables around us in the corner of the first floor lobby. Across the lobby visitors occasionally came in the doors and stopped to speak to the volunteer greeters. Realizing how incredibly well my children had behaved all morning, and taking into account the 1 1/2 hour drive in the 92 degree heat ahead of us, I permitted them to run laps around our lunch table. They skipped and laughed and ran in a very calm and orderly manner, for four little kids. No one screamed or pushed. We weren't near anything breakable. We bothered no one. I think we actually brightened a few sick people's day. Nothing like pure smiles and giggles and exercise for medicine.

When she came, in her purple smock, and looked condescendingly on us; when she cleared her throat and called out loudly, "Excuse me!" then declared again for no apparent reason, "Excuse me!" I first felt like a kindergartener caught running in the lunchroom, and then I felt angry. "There is no running in the hospital!" she called firmly.

I thought all the way home about how I could have responed at that moment. But at that moment I just reacted. "We have an hour-and-a-half drive ahead of us. They're kids, they need to wiggle sometimes," I said calmly, but a little disgusted. "They're not bothering anyone."

"Well, I'm just a hospital volunteer telling you the hospital rules," she retorted.

I thought to myself, Well let's just let beurocracy take over our common-sense!  I thought to myself, Do you have any idea that this is the only bright spot in my children's 6-hour trip to the doctor today? And possibly the only bright spot today for that old guy in the chair over there who was enjoying watching us? Does it make you feel more important or more valuable to come and enforce rules that don't benefit anyone, but only harm them in this particular case? I thought about calling out to my kids, OK kids, back to the hot van, where I can strap you down so you won't cause any more disruption to this lady's pleasantly boring day! And wipe those smiles off your faces! Who knows what rucus further happiness could lead to?!

But I quietly finished wiping my crumbs and called my kids to leave without even looking at her further. She was a probably a nice old lady, in her purple smock, volunteering at the hospital, and she probably doesn't understand just why I became so defensive. But I guess that's it, she didn't understand us: beurocracy before people happens to be one of my biggest pet peeves. But maybe I'm being too hard on her.

Holding Flight

I went to the porch

As the evening crept in
For a quiet place

Away from the kids

To savor a bowl of ice cream

But found that my clanking spoon
And indulgent mood
Seemed as out of place
In the reverent solitude
As slurping it down
While a bride and groom
Pledged their vows

Before me stood the solemn pines
Piously still
Regarding the copper-lined horizon
Where it brushed
The deepening sky

Rows of corn leaves
Rippled and shushed
The new June fireflies
Bobbing and flickering
Like children in the pews

In the indigo blue
Presided a crescent moon
Excusing their impropriety
And mine

I gulped quickly, guiltily
And found I was relieved
To slide my bowl behind me
And join the worshippers

From the black horizon
Rose a mighty bird
And gently beat his powerful wings
Across the length
Of bronze-edged trees
With such beauty
That my heart pleaded
For him to stay

But I knew that my awe
Was in his flight
In the sun's fading rays
That beauty stayed
Becomes a bore
Ingraspable change

Both thrills and pains

The soul

Upstairs in their beds

Lay five children now still

One with one less tooth
And one with two more than last week
As I kissed their summer-short hair
Smelling of chlorine
And Grandma's backyard
My heart pleaded for them to stay

But beauty stayed
Becomes a bore
It is their change
That both thrills and pains
My soul

Family Fun-cation

For three months now my girls have been counting down the days until our summer family vacation. In typical Hannah fashion, my second daughter has recounted almost daily the list of adventures she couldn't wait to embark on when my three siblings and their families convened with us at my parents' house this June, creating a 22 person family gathering, with a total of 11 cousins present.

The long-awaited expedition was off to a shaky start last Friday night. Elijah woke with a cough and an ear infection. We didn't succeed in pulling out of the driveway until 10:30pm, which was a less than ideal way to begin a seven-hour journey with five kids. Then Hannah and Toby began running fevers, and within two hours I joined them in the world of headaches, body aches, and general delirium. We pulled into my parents' driveway just as dawn was breaking. The chirping birds cued even our feverish children to wake and demand breakfast. I was thankful when my mom tended the older kids and Elijah and I could crash for a few hours.

Saturday was dedicated entirely to recovering from our travel and fevers, but by Sunday we were finally ready to meet up with the rest of my family (who had been hiding from our germs at my sister's house) and enjoy ourselves. Actually, enjoy might not be the right word for dressing 21 people up in coordinating outfits, lining them up outside in 90 degree heat, and snapping family portraits, but it certainly was an accomplishment.

Monday we met up at a county park to let the kids try a little fishing. Every child successfully caught something with gills, except poor Emma. She seems to get the short end of the stick more often than not. My brother, who was helping with the baiting and reeling, felt awful for Emma and prolonged the trip in hopes she would finally come up with a fish, but instead Emma only witnessed Hannah catch her second fish while her own line remained limp.

Tuesday our whole troop headed to Living History Farms and spent the day visiting working farms and shops from the 1800's time period. Our first stop was a 1700 Indian farm. My eight-year-old nephew saw the corn husk dolls there and informed our guide, "Those sure are ugly!" Toby chased the chickens at the log cabin and stood in awe of the 400lb sow on the 1900 farm. Naomi couldn't fill her eyes enough with the massive but gentle work horses. Emma laughed at the snorting piglets, and Hannah hungrily eyed the wheat-filled cinnamon rolls that the skirted ladies pulled out of their iron cook stove.

In the little town we clopped along wooden sidewalks to the broom works, where we watched a lady hand crafting brooms, the blacksmith, the general store where Toby attempted to swipe an iron train model from behind the glass counter, the drug store where each child took turns grinding cinnamon with a mortar and pestle, the print shop, and the doctor's office where we learned that you were probably better off at home in 1875.

"This is the best, best, best day ever!" Hannah glowed as we headed back to the parking lot.

Wednesday morning we took at a slower pace, letting the kids run free in the fenced-in backyard. It seems however that some adult supervision is still required. Toby's four-year-old cousin showed him how to open the gate, and, after Grandpa had wired it shut, his eight-year-old cousin showed him how to climb over it. Toby also picked a couple of Grandma's green tomatoes. This displeased Grandma, but she was glad he had at least left the red one alone. Ten minutes later he returned to inform her, "Grandma, this big red potato just fell off your potato tree!"

That evening we visited another county park to go for canoe rides, roast marshmallows, and try another round of fishing. This time Emma was the first to pull in a little fish. Her eyes just glowed with pride, and we all breathed a little sigh of relief at her eventual success. My sister-in-law stayed busy keeping Toby out of the water and the fire, and wiping him up after he devoured the first s'more of his lifetime.

Hannah was quick to layer on the praise after her first canoe ride. "So would you go again?" I asked.

"Oh, only a hundred, hundred times!" she swooned.

Thursday morning I woke early to dress the three girls, pack their lunch, and ship them off to a children's opera with my mom, my sister, my two sisters-in-law, and two of their cousins. I stayed at home with my boys, who would have made my time at the opera miserable anyway. It was nice to have a quiet house to ourselves while my girls had an awesome time getting a backstage tour of the opera house with their cousins.

Thursday afternoon was dedicated to a nine-cousin backyard water fight. Toby missed out on that one due to a nap, but given his distaste for water I don't think he minded that. He preferred to pass the time that evening amusing his extended family with bizarre scenarios involving chocolate consumption.

"Have you ever, ever eaten a chocolate rug before?" he asked his aunt, with a mischievous grin. When she gave an encouraging laugh he ramped up the questions to the next delightful notch of wildly odd ponderings. "Have you ever, ever eaten a chocolate-milk chair handle?!" he queried, giggling giddily at his own question.

Emma, though amused, shook her head at her brother. "I don't even know what a chair handle is," she remarked.

Friday afternoon my sister with her two sons, my parents, and Matt and I with our five kids, braved a water park. We took turns helping the girls, holding Elijah, and attempting to coax Toby into the water.

"Mommy!" Toby called out to me at one point, "I saw somebody with no somethings on her!" Yes indeed, I saw a few of them there too.

I tried to walk Toby slowly into the water, but he clung to my neck with all his might and yelled out, "This does NOT look like fun!" The girls splashed and laughed for a full two hours while Toby sat with his feet dry and firmly planted on the cement deck. There were some trains rumbling by with impressive force just outside the fence, and this at least redeemed the experience a little for Toby.

Just as we were deciding to leave, Toby's psyche received a sudden and unexpected jolt of bravery. Taking his daddy's hand, he willing waded out into water for the fist time in his life. Much to our astonishment and his, he enjoyed it. But just as he was finding his duck feet, the lifeguards blew their whistles for a pool check, and Toby had to leave the water. Maybe it's better he ended on a happy note, it might keep him coming back for more.

Upon returning to Grandma and Grandpa's house, we received another shock. A robin was caught in a net that had been draped over my parents' raspberry bushes. His foot was tangled in the netting and he was dangling from a leg that was clearly broken from his struggle. My girls all felt terrible for the poor little bird which they quickly named "Diamond."

He fluttered about furiously as I approached him, then sank to despair and sat calmly as I wrapped a towel around him and held him still. We snipped his foot free from the netting and set him on the grass. He rested then, seeming to understand that we had helped him and there was no need for fear. His leg was no use to him anymore, but within an hour he had flown away, and I was relieved that whether he lives or not at least my girls can believe that he did.

Elijah spent his week learning to sit independently, popping his first tooth through, and increasing his tolerance for rice cereal feedings. When it came time to pack our bags and say good-byes on Saturday, I met some resistance. "Well, Toby," I sighed, "Are you ready to go home today?"

"No!" he declared without hesitation.

I can't blame him. I don't believe we've ever had a week filled with so much family, fun, and first experiences. I would have stayed longer if I could have, but Matt's job has called us back to real life. And after a week of constant activity and very little sleep, there is something appealing about a routine day of sitting in my pajamas with a cup of coffee and my blog. Alas, not for long though. I still have some big goals for this summer: Elijah needs to learn to sleep in a crib, Toby needs to learn to use the potty consistently, Emma's got some intense speech therapy coming up, and Naomi and Hannah both need to learn to swim, ride a bike, and hit a ball with a bat. Back to work I go.

Overload

I ought to be packing, or preparing lists, or at least sleeping, but as so often happens when I am overwhelmed, I want nothing more than to sit down and sort out my thoughts here. The last few weeks have been very intense: swimming at two beaches, two birthday parties, a memorial day party, graduation parties, dentist appointments, doctor appointments, and another round of confusing illness. Oh, and I'm supposed to be getting ready to take my kids on a road trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house tomorrow for a 21 person family get-together.

In God's grace, he foresaw my weariness and sent two young ladies from our church to my door this morning, and with their help today (folding 5 loads of laundry, making lunch, cleaning up, helping with homeschooling, and toting Elijah around) I am keeping my head above water. We may even be ready for that trip tomorrow.

It is the illness that weighs heavy on my mind again tonight. Last February, during our infamous "February of Fevers" when Emma had pink eye and vomiting, Toby had strep throat, and Elijah had pertussis, Naomi also ran three or four mysterious fevers. Her fevers would come on quickly in the late afternoon, spike high between 101 and 103.5, and disappear by morning. Sometimes just for one day, sometimes repeating the pattern the next day. Headache, jaw pain, joint pain in knees, ankles, and hips, abdominal pain, and a mild sore throat appeared just before the fever and gradually improved over a day or two following the fever. I called our pediatrician after the third episode, but she wasn't at all concerned.

At the end of March Naomi spiked another fever in the same pattern. I took her in to the pediatrician that time, she ran some basic tests for liver infection and UTI (two things Naomi is at high risk for) but found nothing. In April it happened again and I just waited it out, not knowing what else to do.

Last Tuesday, June 5th, Naomi complained after lunch, "Mommy, I have a headache, and my jaw hurts, and my knees and ankles, and my tummy hurts too." I went over everything she'd eaten in the last two days, but couldn't find any culprit. Within an hour Naomi was shivering and piling on blankets and up went the fever to 101. Tylenol only brought the fever down a little, and didn't help her pain much. At midnight I woke to Naomi standing beside my bed. "Mommy, I feel like I'm going to fall when I try to walk," she whimpered. Her fever had reached 103.5.  I stripped her to a T-shirt, gave her more Tylenol, and put her back in bed. I checked on her once at 4:00am and she was still hot to the touch.

Naomi woke yesterday (Wednesday) morning with a mild fever, mild pain, and fatigue. She spent the entire day on the couch reading C.S. Lewis' "A Horse and His Boy," cover to cover as well as five "Magic Tree House" books. She ate nothing, and for the first time I can ever recall she didn't feel thirsty. I actually had to force her to drink fluids. I debated all day about taking her back to the doctor, but she seemed stable enough that I decided to wait until a regularly scheduled appointment today (Thursday). Late in the afternoon she began to shiver, the fever spiked over 101, and suddenly, just as we sat down to dinner, she cried out that her tummy hurt really badly. Tears welled up in her eyes and she doubled over in pain, refusing to straighten out to stand or walk. I watched her for a few minutes, then packed Elijah up and headed for the ER with Naomi, leaving the other three kids with Matt.

The doctor listened to my concerns and ordered all the tests I wanted, checking for liver infection, UTI, and strep throat. Naomi cried and hobbled all bent-over to the bathroom to give her urine sample, she cried harder as they put an IV in and drew blood (talk about insult to injury), and I assured her that this was necessary to help her. I felt certain they would find something this time. One hour later the doctor breezed into the room and nonchalantly declared the "good news" that "everything looks normal." When I opened my mouth for more detail he actually cut me off mid-sentence (yes, in the middle of the very first sentence I tried to speak), looked at Naomi and said, "Would you like some juice, young lady? Let me see if I can get you some juice." He quickly left and never returned. We were discharged with no discussion at all.

The nurse with the discharge orders cheerily consoled me, "We've been seeing a lot of fever and tummy aches lately. There's just stuff going around."

I tried to control my anger as I said, "But Naomi's condition ISN'T going around. I've got six other people in my family and no one else is sick! No one else ever gets sick when she runs these fevers. It isn't a virus!" We looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, then she handed me the papers to sign and an enormous packet of utterly useless information on coping with "Pediatric Fever"-- the consolation prize that's supposed to make me feel like I'm leaving with more information than I came in with.

As I helped an unsteady and sore Naomi back into her clothes I noticed a light, fine raised rash that covered both of her knees symmetrically. I considered insisting the doctor take a look, but quickly decided it was pointless, his mind was made up already. I took Naomi home, put her to bed, and she woke fever-free and mostly pain-free this morning. She has acted completely normally today.

Fortunately, Naomi and Hannah were both scheduled for their one-year check-ups today, and their pediatrician was in a listening mood. She heard me out, and was clearly concerned. She suspects Systemic-Onset Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (a subset of what was formerly known as Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, and also known as Still's Disease). This is an autoimmune disease that Naomi is at extra risk for since she already has one autoimmune disease (celiac disease). Systemic JIA "flare-ups" can be triggered by many environmental factors and cause inflammation throughout the body including inflammation of the liver and spleen, which would explain the severe abdominal pain. Naomi's presentation is actually quite classic with cyclic fevers, salmon-colored rash, joint pain, jaw pain, sore throat, and abdominal pain. I had suspected this disease in the past when Naomi suffered severe joint pain, but when I linked the joint pain to her consumption of food dyes, and discovered that eliminating the dyes also eliminated 95% of her joint pain, I naively concluded that it hadn't been JIA after all. I now believe that Naomi most likely does suffer from JIA, with gluten and food dyes being two of the primary environmental triggers that set off an inflammatory reaction. She has also apparently developed another trigger that is now setting off the cyclic fevers, and it is my job to track that down, if possible.

It is a difficult disease to diagnose. The doctor wants me to bring Naomi in for more bloodwork at the peak of the next fever, but even then no test is definitive. The CBC they ran last night does show changes that would line up with JIA: low hemoglobin and hematocrit (even though Naomi takes an iron supplement daily), and elevated monocyte percentage indicating a chronic condition, but these changes could be caused by myriad other issues as well, which is probably why the ER doctor so glibly declared everything "normal." Mostly the diagnosis is made from observing symptoms and ruling out other possible causes. It will be tricky to get any doctor to observe her symptoms since there is such a small window of high fever and severe pain. The pediatric rheumatalogist is a four hour drive away from us, and the last place Naomi wants to be when she's in pain is sitting in a car for four hours. If this is the diagnosis we eventually get, the prognosis is uncertain, ranging from "outgrowing" the disease (20-40% chance) to a chronic, progressive, debilitating disease (60-80% chance).

Once again I feel burdened to fight for and protect my daughter who struggles with more medical conditions at age 8 than most people see in a lifetime. But now it is late, and I need to sleep. I have a road trip with five little ones tomorrow, and after that...who knows?