Well it had to happen some time. I fear the warm, fuzzy glow of the sleepy newborn phase may be behind us, cast aside in favor of what my friend lovingly calls the ‘fussy period.’ With one month of his life behind him, I do believe Drew’s digestive system is discovering the world. And, folks, it ain’t pretty. There’s been choking and gagging – which I’m trying not to take personally, but it’s a bit like slaving over a dish all day long only to have someone spit out your creation into their napkin—and arching of the back, leg kicking hyperventilation. There’s been hiccups and spit-up and foaming at the mouth. There’s been milk flying out the nose, out the mouth, down the chin and around the neck. It’s digestive disorder around here!
For the past couple days, little has calmed Drew down except being in one of our arms, and even then he hasn’t been too happy. It’s hard to watch, to see your child in pain, to see his little eyes grow wide with fear at what’s happening to his body. At times, when he’s experiencing gas pain, he looks absolutely terrified. Who could blame him, he doesn’t understand what’s happening to his body, only that it hurts. But truth be told, after this goes on for an extended period of time, my ‘poor baby’ feelings morph into sentiments that could best be expressed as ‘WHAT NOW?! WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?’
As his body writhes off my shoulders, up, down and around so that I’m fighting an endless battle not to drop him, my patience wears thin and I just want to tell him to stop. Stop writhing! Settle down! Relax!
If only we could reason with babies.
Tags: motherhood
