Boy 2.0 is eight and half weeks old. If he’s awake an hour, on a good day he cries 20 minutes. On a bad day–like today and Monday–he cries 45 minutes.
Numerous pediatrician visits and calls have revealed likely (possible) reflux, and a sensitivity to cow’s milk protein. I cut obvious dairy (milk, cheese, yogurt) out of my diet, and within 48 hours, he went from nerve-shredding, inconsolable screeching from 7pm-12am to mere tired “Wah!” typical fussy crying during the day. Sometimes, it’s just in the evening. Sometimes, like today, it starts at 8am.
So, some days, I have to just put him in his crib and walk away while he wails, and I go throw things that won’t break (stuffed animals, paperback books) in a room away from Boy 2.0. I cry. I yell. I breathe. Then I sigh, breathe some more, and go back and get him.
He didn’t nap well at all today or yesterday, and his cry sounded both tired and sick. I think Boy 1.0 generously shared his cold with his younger brother. Bending over to kiss his brother, then sneeze-spraying and/or wet-coughing right in Boy 2.0’s face, would probably do that. Thankfully, I’m breastfeeding and also have the cold (the whole house does), so baby boy gets my antibodies and isn’t as sick as he could be.
Boy 2.0 goes in for his first round of shots on Monday. I remember when his older brother went in for his two month checkup and first shots, he was happy and smiling and flirting with the nurse before being so hugely offended by a needle in the leg. I burst into tears today remembering Boy 1.0’s smile–Boy 2.0 does smile, but it’s rare and fleeting and far overshadowed by the constant wrinkly face and WAH! I get about 1-2 smiles a day, which help me go forward…but…GAH.
This newborn phase BLOWS. BLOWS.
Boy 2.0 is sleeping on Daddy at the moment, and I (the very rare drinker) am guzzling a beer. I’d prefer wine, but we don’t have any. Yet.