a throwback: the genes i wish he didn't get from me

My son, Kane, has the same shape eyes as I do, which I got from my mom. His tiny pointed chin that juts out a bit is also mine and I got that from my dad. His nose, one that has developed from completely flat to rather round and back to flat is mine as well. That one skipped a generation from my grandmother, right past my father's narrow bridge and pointy nose, and down to me. Kane smiles with his whole face; also mine. That is something I take the most credit for. The sum of all my parts, with this trait from this side and that trait from the other, has translated almost completely accurately to my son. The extra spice added by his dad is rather limited though extremely noticeable. Altogether, though, that boy looks like his mama.

And then there's the other stuff. I'm not talking about my clutziness or tendency to bite the insides of my mouth (both of which he does, as well). I'm still on the physical traits that cannot be controlled or helped. But rather than being a sign that parent and child are, in fact, parents and child, some of them start beneath the skin and explode to the surface. Despite the obviousness of such superficial ailments, they can be the worst of the non-fatal chronic disorders. They are sometimes more inconvenient rather than painful. People seldom feel the need to worry, only show concern or simplify. And then sometimes no one really understands the cause. There's apparently no name for what I have. Words like "general" and "idiopathic" hint at its dubious nature. Other words like "hives" and "urticaria" don't really answer any questions. What happens is, for seemingly no reason, sometimes, my body breaks out in hives. Sometimes the cause is known. I am aware of a handful of allergies I have. I've understood the validity of psychosomatic hives for a while now (extreme fear has been known to manifest itself on my skin) and I know my skin is rather sensitive. Most of the time, it's very minor. I get a few bumps on the inside of my arm, it itches, it goes away as quickly as it appeared. Sometimes a scratch or burn never goes beneath the surface and there's only a red mark in the shape of whatever it is that offended my skin. If a cardboard box sits on my bare lap for a while, my skin will be irritated.

And then it's not so common and much worse than simply inconvenient. The worst outbreak I ever had was when I was in the beginning stages of my first pregnancy. Even after having lived with this tendency towards hives for a long time, I was worried that this sudden outbreak was a sign of something associated with my pregnancy. And it was. It just wasn't that serious. The simplest means of describing this reaction is that I am sensitive to any change to and within my body. My white blood cells sometimes attack something they don't need to attack and they do so in an unrelenting and most unwelcome fashion. So when another life was growing inside me, those cells when nuts a bit and, thankfully, instead of attacking the real foreigner (the dude in the belly) they had a few skirmishes on my skin. My entire body erupted in painful hives so large and growing so quickly that my body became one huge red mass with white spots here and there. My eyes and lips were swollen. I had hives on the bottom of my feet and on my palms. It was misery that lasted nearly a week. I was given diphenhydramine to block the histamines and a steroid to help with the inflammation.

And then nearly five years later, I watched helpless to the misery of that very child I was pregnant with as he fought to breathe through another coughing fit. It seemed to go away and then come back and when it did, it brought along a bunch of little friends: Those damn white blood cells. A few spots were on his chest and a doctor visit was arranged. They confirmed what I already knew, that these were just hives as a reaction to his cold. Well, they confirmed it when they learned that mommy had a little problem with hives, as well. Though I know I cannot control these things and I should feel damn lucky that hives are the most of our worries right now, I also cannot control the guilt I feel for damning my child with this horrendous affliction.

More than 24 hours had passed and we finally fell asleep, only the second time he'd managed to only after sheer exhaustion. I failed to remind my family ahead of time that, "Hey, knowing what it is doesn't help us that much. Brace yourself, it's about to get MUCH worse." And it did. His cough first, which was painful enough. But as soon as his cold started to go away, his hives completely took over. He was not particularly swollen but he was almost completely red. He was horribly itchy and he hated his medicine. He would wake up for a few seconds, remember he was itchy and have a hard time going back to sleep.

And though I know he'll get better soon and that this may just be the worst bout of hives he'll ever have to experience, I can barely deal to see him suffer through this. Nothing is nearly as crushing as seeing a child you love so much in pain and not being able to take the pain away. I'd happily go through the pains of labor every day for the rest of my life if it meant that I would never have to see my children hurt or get sick.