Yesterday, just because the cough was gone, the eye was cleared and her ear was not infected, Eden broke out in an all over body rash.

I called the doctor. As I waited on hold for the nurse, my brother-in-law advised an immediate dose of Benadryl, “She’s getting redder by the second.” Eden, oblivious of the scrutiny, stood watching a cartoon, her piggy tails askew, quietly scratching her neck.

The nurse, Barb, got on the phone and we ran the numbers. We ruled out a lot of things, decided who the heck knew and determined a dose of Benadryl. Eden was delighted. She loves the stuff.

I thought I was pretty clear that I am not in control, but it’s getting clearer. I can’t keep this child healthy. I cannot make her sleep through the night. I cannot keep the nightmares away. And so I pray and I pray and I pray and I pray in the face of silence, in the face of exhaustion, in the face of a seeming No, in the face of and over this coughing, crying, itching and scratching, seeping child who asks, every night, her arms wrapped around my neck, “Please pray Mama.”

I do.