Tag Archives: crying

The Forecast Is Variable

Yesterday was a remarkably good day, considering. Pixie had a good morning and napped in her swing. In the afternoon she was tired, and I thought I’d try the crib. First I rocked her until drowsy with the routine as Husband does it (consistency is good, yes?). Her eyes became heavy and she was nearly asleep; I put her down in the crib just as Husband does. Her eyelids flew up like broken blinds, practically flapping up to her eyebrows. Squirm. Wiggle. Whimper. Preparing The Face. The Dreaded Chin of Doom began to emerge. She was winding up to pitch a major fit.

I took off the swaddle in case that was what bothered her (she doesn’t fight it with Husband though). Rocked her. No dice. Rather than fight with her and go through the rock/hold then put down and scream/fight, ad nauseum, I chose my battle. I put her in the swing, flipping my finger in the face of one of The Baby Sleep Experts who says motionless sleep provides better quality rest. I made her cozy with a lovely blanket from Emy (it’s the perfect heft and weight, is washable wool, and it’s handmade with love). Then I crammed in my earplugs and sat there on the sofa next to her, determined to ride out her storm. Oh, my nerves jangled, but I grit my teeth.

Twenty minutes later, after whimpering and grousing, she was sleeping angelically. She didn’t wake until 2:40 p.m. Then she guzzled four ounces, and I put her in the bouncer to watch out the window. I decided to attempt to start dinner. And imagine this, I was able to get the whole dish assembled! I looked at Claire and said, Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?

Nana Eileen came by late afternoon around 4:00, and we had a lovely visit. She played with Claire and Claire was cheerful. Claire got tired, on the verge of fussy, so I put her in the swing while we visited. She fell asleep for a catnap around 5:00 — 20 minutes. Eventually Eileen had to leave.

And wouldn’t you know it… 20 minutes later the Hurricane made landfall. At 6:10 I changed Claire, and as soon as I finished she began to cry. And cry. And sob. And scream. I held her while sitting on the sofa, wishing Husband would get home soon. I watched my little girl as she wailed and writhed for 20 minutes in my arms. (She seems to like that timeframe, and yes, I do track the time a great deal. Go ahead and laugh.) Then she stopped, heaved a sigh, and looked in my eyes. I talked to her. I said, “You must be so very tired. You just don’t know what to do with yourself. Poor girl.” She smiled faintly and then cooed. She stuck out her tongue. I smiled back. One second later she was back to screaming. Okey-dokey. We’ll just ride this out!

Five minutes after the encore, she stopped, and Husband arrived home. He ate my lovely dinner; I held her on my lap at the table so we could all visit. She was calm and cute, but (can you guess what’s next?) after about 20 minutes she started the wind-up again. We promptly bathed her. He then swaddled her and rocked her to drowsiness, and she immediately fell asleep and stayed asleep in the crib until 9:30 p.m., when she woke as expected for a bottle. After she ate, she fell asleep again within minutes. Daddy has the magic. I want some too!

Today has also been even-keeled and happy. She’s eaten and napped well, and we took a walk. Now she’s sleeping in the swing and she didn’t even fuss first. We’ll see what happens as the evening arrives.

You know, it occurs to me that it’s not Claire who has a problem with crying. It’s her Momma. Somehow eventually she and I need to work out a nap arrangement that allows her to be in a safe, quiet place (maybe her crib, imagine that!). Her being in the swing means I don’t feel comfortable doing anything in another part of the house; plus I feel I need to be more quiet than usual.

Well, that’s an update. I hope it was entertaining and that you enjoyed my use of mixed metaphors — variety is the spice of life. Also, I took this photo today after our walk. Sweet, eh?

claire and stella watch birds

Stella Introduces Claire to Kitty Television

It’s All Right To Cry

Claire is eight weeks old today. Amazing.

With the exception of an hour-and-a-half on Tuesday evening, there has been little crying around here. Well, let me clarify. Claire cries, but not inconsolably. Whatever we’ve done — the hypoallergenic formula or the Zantac — seems to be working; nature is helping too, in that Claire’s digestive system is maturing. In the last seven days her intake per meal has increased from an average of 2.75 ounces to 4 ounces. Her legs are getting chubbier. She doesn’t pull away from the nipple and cry, with one exception — when she’s working on the other end of her digestive track, it seems as though she gets to a point where she can’t continue eating and she’s mad about it. I can tell the difference in the cry.

In fact, the crying has transformed for me, or in me. I can now hear more what she’s communicating. I’m more confident in my ability to comfort or provide what she needs, and even if she just needs to cry, I’m able to simply be with her. She’s got quite a range. There’s the cry of Oh! The injustice and betrayal! that happens sometimes when she gets her medicine and we have “help” her swallow. (Tip: hold her cheeks together and blow lightly in her face. It causes a swallow reflex.) There’s the cry of I do not like this, change things now! when she’s put on her stomach for “tummy time.” She loathes that position. When she’s hungry, if we’re too stupid to realize it is hunger and we first check her diaper or offer a binky, her cry becomes angry: Feed me, you dolts! There’s the tired cry, which is whiny. She cries with inflection and nuance; when she’s upset and a binky is offered, she’ll suck mightily and moan in such a way that feels as though she’s saying, “This is just what I wanted, I’m so tired.” When she’s not crying, she also talks a lot: coos, eeps, squeaks, vowel sounds. I love having conversations with her. She looks at me now with recognition. The love-fest is mutual.

I imagine we’ll have rocky days, but I feel more settled and able to take them in stride.