There is nothing that eats away at your heart - and your last nerve - like a colicky baby. Thing is, you can't stop it. No amount of shhh-ing or rocking or, I must admit, shouting "CALM DOWN" or "SHUT UP" can make a dent in a baby who is in his own private world of Scream.
His eyes are squeezed shut, his face is red, and his mouth is wide open. Sometimes he gets so worked up he does the silent scream, his own version of Munch. I feel terrible to have such a sad baby. I try not to take it personally. But it's tough. He's my love.
The official reason for his behavior, according to his Occupational Therapist (oh yes, he has one, for his sucking issues, and I mean that literally) says he's "neurologically immature." So despite cooking for an extra five days, he arrived in this world not prepared to deal with what is has to offer.
Except for the boob. Yep, he's a boob man. Problem is, he'd like to be one 24-7. And I'm just not that good of a mom. Can't do it. It's tough, because I know it'll stop the screaming. But seriously. I do need to do other things. I know, selfish me, wanting to actually pee or brush my teeth or even, heaven forbid, change out of the shirt he's spit up all over.
To say nothing of having a moment or two to visit with my other kids. Remember them? I'm afraid THEY'RE going to remember this time, and not favorably. It will be "Remember when Xander was born and all he did was scream or be on Mommy, and then Mommy was really grumpy and didn't play with us?"
(Incidentally, he is screaming RIGHT NOW.)
Never felt so helpless in my life. Except when Sage did the exact same thing - for 7 1/2 months.
Guess this is going to be another short post.
MUST STOP THE NOISE
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