Please tell me you've been there. It's 4 am and you've nursed so long that your breasts are nothing more than deflated balloons hanging from your torso. You've rocked, burped, bounced, and held your baby. You've changed their diaper. They don't want to be picked up, but God forbid you should put them down. They let out another cry with it's implied "Mommy fix it!" and it starts to feel personal.
If you've never been there, please, lie to me.
Obviously, I've done this whole baby thing before. At this point, I felt like I was getting pretty good at it. I think Liam is Mother Nature's way of reminding me of where I stand. You see, if he doesn't want to eat, doesn't need changed, doesn't want to be held, isn't gassy and doesn't want to be put down...that's kind of all I've got. As I write this, he's on my chest, all wrapped up in a sling, and screaming at me as if I've pinched him. What the hell? This chair rocks, so I type, rock, listen, and hope that soon he gets tired, and maybe we all can sleep. Maybe.
Today was supposed to be a giveaway post. But that will have to wait until next week. I just don't have it in me today.
I love this baby so much, and I'm so grateful he's here. But he's exhausted this mom's bag of tricks. So, I'll just keep trying to comfort him until he's comforted, and remind myself that it's really not personal. He is a high needs baby.
