The waiting takes the longest

In my last post I talked about some of the mistakes we feel like we made early on in our GAPS journey. We’ve been working now close to two months on trying to correct those mistakes. It feels like we’re in a holding pattern of sorts and the waiting certainly takes the longest.

I long for the day when I’ll be able to scream from the rooftops that Raleigh’s eczema is 100% gone — just as I can say about his asthma. His asthma IS 100% gone, and I can’t even remember the last time I heard a wheeze. But the eczema does persist. Of course, it is nothing like it was. It is no longer severe, and lately we’ve battled cuts more than eczema it seems. We believe Raleigh gets a dopamine rush when he cuts his skin open and creates a gash or wound. When cuts attempt to heal, they itch, so he wants to itch them, pinching his skin and re-opening the wounds, perpetuating the cycle. Sometimes I sit and think about all of these odd little elements that make up this whole journey for us, and think to myself how isolating this journey is. I also find myself thinking often that these are the parts, these unseen parts, that just no one can possibly understand. They are unique to us; they have to be, right?

It’s interesting to me that the intense feeling of isolation, and feeling like an outsider in a journey like this, has not dissipated, not even a little.

Currently we are giving Raleigh a therapeutic dose of probiotics daily and still slowly increasing to find his optimal threshold. According to Dr. Natasha, he should be at this level for a minimum of six months. We are almost to two. We are also working at getting the correct dose of HCL to help his low stomach acid so that he can properly digest foods. We feel like this has been neglected and a missed area of importance in Raleigh’s healing. Something as simple as digesting food isn’t so simple. It should be, but it isn’t. The majority of Raleigh’s bowel movements float which means he isn’t digesting and absorbing fats from his food. That is very problematic, as the saturated and unsaturated fats he is consuming are incredibly important in aiding his body to heal, and I feel like I look at his bowel movements far more often now than ever before.

I know one day I will look back on this time and perhaps feel like it was “a flash in the pan” for my life as a whole — for Raleigh’s life as a whole. But when you’re in the middle of your Hero’s journey, the journey feels long, arduous, unending, and you don’t know how close you are to the end. I have days where I certainly sink back down into the depths of despair and those relentless, negative thoughts arm wrestle for space inside my mind. But I also have days where I see light and hope and am encouraged. It is the devil on my left and the angel on my right; my mind is a battlefield.

I often remind myself that all I have is today, and today is just one day. Things may be bad, or good, or stagnant, but it’s just a day in a lifetime of days; and it’s all I’ve been given or promised, so to it I should be faithful. And that helps. God has been faithful to us every day of this journey, and the days have morphed into years at this point. Raleigh is healing. He is a different child. Our sacrifice, dedication, perseverance and commitment have given him something Western medicine could not. Beauty has come from ashes.

Thank you for following Raleigh’s journey — we continue to put one foot in front of the other every day and will do so until he is fully healed. Follow me on Instagram @findingforrester4 for more day-to-day updates.

 

Blessings,

Danielle

 

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