Hope. And no, I don't mean my name.

I almost don't dare say this out loud, for fear of jinxing us...but there is a small possibility that a solution to Wyatt's night terrors may be within sight. My insightful father-in-law, John, had mentioned that some children suffer from something akin to sleep apnea, which can at times trigger nightmares or night terrors. Since then, I've tried to pay more attention to Wyatt when he's sleeping soundly. I can't say I've heard him actually stop breathing, but I can hear him snoring loudly and the air seems to almost struggle to come in and out. Today I took Carson to the pediatrician for his ears (which are still infected...we're trying one more antibiotic, but there's a 50/50 chance that by Valentine's Day our baby will have tubes in his ears.. So sad.), and while we were there I asked the dr. to look at Wyatt's throat and ears to see how he was doing during this miserable cold season. The doctor said there was no sign of infection or redness in either his throat or his ears, but he did take note of Wyatt's gigantic, monstrous-sized tonsils. He asked how Wyatt breathed at night. I mentioned the conversation John and I'd had and Dr. Black completely agreed that this was worth looking into. I've made an appointment with an Ear, Nose, & Throat doctor for Friday morning.

I hate to build up hope within myself, but I just can't help it. Three years with a child that sleeps (or doesn't sleep) like a newborn, only louder and angrier, has taken it's toll. I've felt very discouraged of late, as though my prayers have been hitting the ceiling and that there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Sleep deprivation takes a lot out of a person. Ironically, Brett and I were talking in bed just last night about how the past three years have drained us. I feel empty, as though emotionally, and at times even physically, I feel I have very little left to give. I can't imagine what price parents have paid who have children with demanding physical or emotional needs. I keep thinking about Cal and Ruth, best friends of my parents, who have earned sainthood with the nearly-forty years of devoted love and care they've given their daughter, Julie, who had as a toddler developed a high fever and suffered severe brain damage. So yes, I know our situation could be worse. I know I should be more patient and have more faith. But to go so long without feeling the comfort of the spirit encouraging me to even just endure has left me feeling desperate. And now the very idea that a possible resolution might come to pass was overwhelming.

I wept the entire drive home from the doctor.