My sweet Chloe has colic.
Or is it colicy.
Or is it, has the colic?
Basically, she cries all the time.
It takes another person, or a few dozen, to tell me this before I actually accept it. I tell myself, like with Cohen, that she's just sleepy. Or she's just hungry. Or she's just bored. But when it comes down to it, something is wrong.
Colic is so hard. Ironically, I stay calm when I have a colicy baby. It's ironic because I'm not a calm person. I tend to get all uppity and grumpy and easily frustrated and over stimulated. So far, I've been able to keep my crazy to a minimum
But that doesn't make it any easier. I suffer because I know she's hurting. I struggle because I feel helpless in helping my own baby. Her screams shout to me in the middle of the night, just make it better. And I can't.
I see Brett suffering from the same lack of anything to do. It's probably harder for him because he's a man, and is therefore a fixer of all things broken. And not broken. Until he breaks them trying to fix them.
He even tried to make a home made remedy. "What? It's just a little clove and anise seed in a tea bag."
I draw the line here.
And today, I'm grateful that he listened. And that she's sleeping.
Oh, I'm also grateful for Auntie's who keep her calm during Sunday dinner.
And aunts and uncles who visit with us while she screams.
And cousins who make us laugh.
And little baby cousins who play with our little babies.
Good night (hopefully!)