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The First Two Years — The Persistent Rash

Updated: Jun 11

Part 1 of My Son's Eczema Journey Series



He was three.

 

I first noticed the rash at a mommy-and-me summer camp.

 

We had been part of a PEP group since my son was just a few months old. Over time, smaller groups formed within it—moms who met regularly for park days, zoo trips, swimming lessons, and library classes and more. About ten of us grew especially close. Our kids played together a lot while us moms talked and shared stories. We still know some of them today.

 

That summer, one of the moms hosted a six-week camp in her backyard. A teacher would come for a few hours and set up all kinds of outdoor activities—small pools, sprinklers, tables with crafts, a track with a ride-on fire engine, and the lower yard filled with mud tables, water, trucks, and tractors.

 

There was always something going on—bubbles, parachute time, singing. The kind of playful learning where kids absorb everything without realizing it.

 

That day, my son was drawn to the water.

 

He climbed into one of the small pools with a big grin that quickly turned into a grimace.

 

He climbed out and came straight to me, telling me his wrist stung in the water.

 

I looked and he had a small red area the size of a nickel and it looked like nothing more than a little scrape.

 

Instead of going back, he chose to sit and make tie-dye butterflies.

 

It stayed in the back of my mind.

 

A friend noticed me comforting him and asked what was going on. I showed her the spot and asked what she thought it might. She was not sure either.

 

At home, I cleaned it with soapy water, dried it, and applied Aquaphor, covering it with a bandage because he was worried about it stinging again.

 

At the time, it didn’t feel like anything serious.

 

Just something that would pass.

 

A trip to the pediatrician told us that the rash that wouldn’t go away was eczema—also called atopic dermatitis.

 

He said it was common. That many children have it and often outgrow it by the time they are six or seven.

 

Nothing to worry about.

 

We were told to use cortisone cream, keep it moisturized, and keep our son hydrated—and that it should clear up.

 

It sounded simple enough.

 

And we believed it would work.

 

But for the next two years, it didn’t.

 

The spot on his wrist never fully healed.

 

It grew from the size of a nickel to closer to a quarter.

 

The skin became thicker.

 

It would seem like it was getting better at times—less red, less irritated—only to flare up again.


Slowly, I noticed it itching more often.

 

He would scratch without thinking, especially when he got hot and sweaty—which, for a little boy, was often.

 

After that day at camp, he began avoiding water.

 

He didn’t want to swim like he used to—even at home, where he had once been in the pool almost daily.

 

Bathing became something he complained about too.

 

Water, which had always been fun, had started to hurt.

 

One day, he told me his elbow was itchy.

 

I looked, and there it was.

 

A second spot.

 

Tiny, but undeniable.

 

As the weather warmed heading into summer, the other elbow began to show signs as well.

 

By then, we had moved on to a very mild steroid cream, which I remember feeling might actually be making things worse.

 

It burned when we applied it.

 

The burning seemed to intensify the itch, and he would scratch even more.

 

The area would become red and swollen—almost like a reaction.

 

We stopped using it fairly quickly.

 

Much later, out of desperation, we would try it again.

 

Later, I would learn that with steroids—even in cream form—the body can build a tolerance over time, requiring more and more to have the same effect.

 

And in my son’s case, they didn’t seem to help at all.

 

They seemed to trigger more flare-ups.

 

Over those two years, we tried everything we heard might help.

 

Coconut oil.


Sunflower oil.


Different lotions.


Ointments and creams of all kinds.

 

At one point, we even applied treatments and wrapped his wrist and elbow in plastic wrap, hoping it would help the moisture absorb and heal the skin.

 

I wasn’t researching constantly but I did find myself searching on the web for answers.

 

Yet things still felt manageable.

 

I was hopeful—just puzzled why nothing seemed to work.

 

I began to wonder if allergies might be playing a role.

 

At the time, I thought eczema was just an annoying rash that wouldn’t go away.

 

I had no idea it had the ability to spread.

 

To persist.

 

To become something much bigger.

 

But nothing we tried seemed to make a lasting difference.

 

At the time, we still believed this was something that would eventually go away.

 

Something we just hadn’t quite figured out yet.

 

We thought if we found the right cream, the right routine, the right answer—

it would heal.

 

Looking back now, I can see that we were still in the phase of trying to fix something we didn’t yet understand.

 

We didn’t know we were at the beginning of something much longer.

 

This continued until he started kindergarten.

 

 

Reflection

 

When something first begins, we often believe it will be temporary.

 

Something small.

 

Something manageable.

 

Have you ever faced a moment that started simply—only to realize later it would become part of a much longer journey?

 

Sometimes we don’t recognize the beginning of something significant while we are in it.

 

Sometimes we only see that when we look back.

 

 

A Gentle Practice

 

If you are at the beginning of your own eczema journey, take a few quiet moments to observe what you’re seeing.

 

You don’t need to solve anything right now.

 

Just notice.

• Where is the eczema showing up?

• Has it changed over time—spreading, thickening, or becoming more irritated?

• When does the itching seem to happen most?

• Are there certain activities—like heat, water, or sweat—that seem to make it worse?

 

You might begin to notice small patterns.

 

Not all at once.

 

But slowly.


Awareness often comes before understanding.

 

And understanding takes time.



What We Learned Along the Way


This is just the beginning of my son's journey with eczema. Here are some of the things we were beginning to learn and understand:


• Water can sting when the skin barrier is damaged. Placing Aquaphor, Vaseline or similar on the rash will not hurt and if applied thick enough before a bath, it should protect it from the water stinging.


• Heat and sweat seemed to make symptoms worse. These were triggers for my son. A trigger is anything that brings on or worsens a flare-up of eczema. While everyone's eczema is different, some triggers show up again and again—sweat, hot or cold weather, dust, grass, dust mites, and direct airflow from fans or heaters, and food. The challenge is that each person's list can be a little different, which is why paying attention to patterns can be so helpful.


• Not every person responds the same way to steroid creams. My son was triggered by steroid cream. We also found out that clear ointments and medications usually do not sting. While white creams sting because alcohol is used to make them. Can you imagine putting alcohol on an open wound? It stings very badly. Always ask if there is a clear alternative to any ointments, creams or medications.



You are always welcome here.

WGG

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