This has by far been the hardest day with you yet.

I’m sitting here with you in your sleepy wrap against my body while I cry my eyes out writing this post.

I was not prepared.  I had no idea.  No one warned me.  Who’s job is that?  They are fired.

I thought I was so tough because I didn’t cry when you got your shots.  You seemed okay.  You screamed a little but once I picked you up you were okay.

It wasn’t until we were on the way home that Betsy, who interestingly enough was driving to get Mirth her 6 month old shots, said that she gives her baby aspirin in the office before the shots so they already have a little buffer.

Uh oh.

I gave you the baby aspirin as soon as we got home.  You spit it out.  I tried again, you spit most of that one out.  I gave up because I didn’t want to overdose you and you seemed fine.  We played games and chatted for almost an hour.  You took a nap and then I laid you down in the jungle so you could hunt monkeys.  You were cooing and gurgling while I joked with your Dad and Sarah about how nothing seemed to phase you when suddenly, the shit hit the fan.

You let out a high pitched wail the likes of which I’ve never heard before.  It was the kind of scream that made my heart hurt and my guts ache.  And you kept screaming.  You were in so much pain and I didn’t know what to do to help you so I just held you and called the doctor.  They said to try the aspirin again.  That you had probably finally reached your threshold and that was why you were screaming, but that the aspirin should work in 20-30 minutes. So I did.  You threw it up along with all your lunch milk all over me in the kitchen. I tried again, desperate to give you some relief.  You threw that up all over me in your bedroom.  Then I called again.  “Stop giving aspirin” she said ” it obviously doesn’t agree with her.  Just soothe her as best you can.  She’s probably over tired now anyway.  Put cold compresses on her legs where the shots were or put her in a tepid bath, which she’ll probably hate.  Call if it gets any worse and bring her in.”

That’s it?  I thought.

You and I were down to pants and a diaper only by this point which I think was actually better because we were skin to skin and that seemed to calm you down a little bit.  We smelled like puke though.  So even though your eyes were closed I had to put you down to wash us both off a bit.  Then you screamed again. So I grabbed the sleepy wrap and put it on as fast as I could.  Then I put you in it.  And that is where you have been ever since.

Now I can’t stop crying.  Not so tough anymore, am I?

I would give anything to trade places with you and feel the pain for you.

That is probably why I should go to Alanon.  Pretty co-dependent of me, isn’t it?  But I think you know what I mean.  To see you in so much pain and to feel so helpless is one of the hardest things I have ever gone through in my life so far.

I don’t know if I can do this.  I’m not strong enough.  I can’t stop crying right now.  What a wuss I am!

I’ve just never felt so vulnerable, and little, and afraid.  I want to soothe you and be strong for you.  It took everything I had to be calm for you.  I guess the dam broke now that you are asleep and I can be weak.

This too shall pass.

It always does.

I’m going to play classical music on the stereo and read a spiritual book to pass the time right now, hopefully that will soothe me.

I’ll keep you posted.  See what the rest of the day has in store of for us.

At 5pm you woke up.  I gave you tylenol in tiny doses making sure you swallowed it.  Then I gave you a tepid bath which you hated.  Finally I breastfed you and you smiled.  All suggestions were via Betsy, the real baby whisperer.

You played with your Papa and I until 7pm when you crashed, hard.

Now it’s 10pm and you are still out.  But you are crunched up against your bassinet and your head is turned the wrong way and I really want to pull you down and turn your head so it’s not on the flat spot but I also feel like I should leave you alone.

Or should I wake you up and feed you and give you tylenol before I go to bed so you don’t wake up starving and hurting later?  That’s assuming you would.  Or is it more humane to let you sleep?

This is my dilemma these days.

To wake a sleeping baby or not to wake?

That is the question.

for the record- Papa wants me to wake you.

I love you.

Mom

Which when I post this will be today.

Okay- update.

You freaked out again tonight at the same time as last night for no apparent reason this time as I was all about stop, look, and listen.  So maybe I’m still in the running for Mom of the Year?

I tried feeding you but you didn’t want the boob, which was kind of odd since you hadn’t eaten in almost 4 hours- so not like you.  So I gave you a massage, which you really seemed to enjoy. In fact, I think we both had a pretty great time then.  You have definitely entered a whole new phase of chatting.  It’s kind of amazing.

You got fussy after the massage, so I put you in your pi’s, tried to feed you again, but hell no- you wouldn’t have any of it.  So I rocked you in all sorts of new and interesting positions until we took an art tour around the house and into your room.  We sat in your rocking chair and I rocked you in  my arms until you were calm enough to try eating again.  Then you ate, then you passed out.  Now you sleep.  So who knows.  Maybe you have a little bit of my cold?  Maybe you had a growth spurt?  Maybe you had some gas?

I really wish I spoke Baby.

Which brings me to the Dunston Baby Language DVD I finally watched.  A little late, but better than never, I suppose.  It was really interesting and I highly recommend it.  Apparently it goes something like this- I only watched the first DVD so I only have 3 sounds so far-  but:

Neh= hungry
Ow= tired
Eh= burp me

I had no idea that this whole time you have been mostly BEGGING me to burp you!  It’s a game changer for sure.  Last night in your bassinet you woke up saying Eh.  So I picked you up and walked you around for a little bit until you burped then you went straight back to sleep.  WTF???  Wish I’d watched this sooner.  I don’t think you say Neh though when you are hungry.  It’s kind of hard to tell.  Dad says he can tell the difference between net and eh.  I can’t. I’m also terrible with foreigners.  Can’t tell what the heck they are saying half the time.  I really sounded like a racist just there.  I’m not.  Don’t worry.  I’m just kind of stupid sometimes and don’t listen very well.

Details can sometimes allude me, it’s the big picture I’m after.

Nama Jill says you are a sensitive baby.  That you startle easily and don’t like bright lights or loud sounds.  Well, I don’t like bright lights or loud sounds so I guess you got that from me.  And unfortunately I am a little bit jumpy.  I startle easily.  Which wasn’t so great when I had the brilliant idea to start a game of scaring each other at work.  I lost.  Obviously.

Although I love being with you and watching you discover things like your hands, feet, and voice, I also miss work sometimes.  Not all the time, but sometimes.  I feel really lucky that I am still able to run two writing programs this Fall.  One for the middle school Foster Kids and one for the Elementary kids.  The foster kids group started last week and this story I am about to tell you is one of the reasons I love my job so much.  You can’t make shit up this good.

In the first sessions I have with kids I usually break the ice with a round of “tell a story about your name.”  It’s a fantastic way to get to know people in a very short amount of time.  What people tend to say says a lot about them.  We were going around the circle when we got to this very special kid named Marcus that I adore.  When we play the “who would you adopt if you could” game, I always pick him.  He was in our group last semester.  There is something super sweet, innocent, and slightly odd about him that speaks to my heart. He has a very unique cadence of speech and thought, he takes long pauses while you watch him work it out before putting it out.  Today he paused, and began with “I am named after my Mother’s brother who died while sleepwalking.”  Wow, I thought.  How sad.  He continued.  “They were camping in the Grand Canyon and he woke up one night and they never found his body.”  Oh my.  The room was silent.  Every eye was upon Marcus who looked as if he was about to cry.  I was scrambling for the perfect segue to lighten the mood when suddenly he looked up and blurted out with gusto “But my Mom was going to name me Jorge (pronounced horhay- even though he’s not latino) !”  The room burst out laughing, how could we not? It was one of the most brilliant pieces of comedy performed perfectly I have ever seen. And it was 100% authentic.  See why I love my job?  I mean, I get to do this.  I GET to.

Tomorrow morning you get your first round of vaccines.  We’ve thought it over carefully and feel this is the best decision.  I can’t say I’m not nervous though.  I’ll probably cry with you.

Goddamn no one warned me having children could hurt so much.

Love.

Mom