Holy Shit! This morning was the worst morning yet. What demon possessed my baby?
Nothing seemed remiss at the buttcrack of dawn when my children decided they needed to be awake. Adam was happily eating his frozen waffle and Elizabeth was cooing in the swing when, for no apparent reason, she began wailing. Nothing new, she doesn't stay long in that swing, but this time removing her didn't solve the problem. I walked around and jiggled her for a bit, nope, that didn't work. I sat in the chair and went for old reliable...the boob. Now usually the mere sight of the boobs renders her as speechless as a preteen boy with his first nudie magazine, but not today. I whipped out the swaddling blankets and that just pissed her off more. Two hours later, she was still screaming like a banshee and by then hadn't nursed in four hours. She never goes four hours between feedings...NEVER. She's a two and a half hour on the dot nurser during the day so I started to get a little concerned. I went back and did the jiggle dance and swaddle bit but she was still summoning the dead so I tried to feed her again. You would have thought those boobs were shooting fire because that made her even worse and I didn't even know there could be a worse! So of course I do what any other insane, sleep deprived, ear shattered mother would do....I panicked. Well, just a little. I picked up the phone and called the husband which I am strictly forbidden to do. This is how it went:
Me: Can you hear her? Somethings wrong with her.
Husband: She's crying. Babies cry
Me: (shooting daggers with my eyes, babies cry??) No, this is much different and you know what else, she won't nurse.
Husband: Maybe she doesn't like your milk today.
Me: (why the hell did I call him?) Oh yeah, that's it. I added chocolate syrup to it just this morning, she apparently isn't a fan.
Husband: You know what I mean. Is she sick?
Me: Well she's screaming like she's got something wrong with her.
Husband: Does she have a fever?
Husband: Then she's not sick.
Me: But when M's baby died she told me that she screamed all day long and she even had to go out on the porch to get away from it and then when she finally calmed her and set her in the crib she came back ten minutes later and she was dead. (Me now sobbing) This is just like that. I don't want her to die.
Husband: You are a f*cking lunatic.
Me: Should I take her to the doctor?
Husband: Do whatever you think is best.
Me: You're not helping me.
Husband: I'll call the doctor and make an appointment to bring her in and tell them you think she is going to die.
So then I proceed to cry great big honking tears and pump some milk hoping maybe she'll take a bottle. Nevermind that she's never had a bottle before, surely she'll just love one in the midst of her tirade but as I was attempting to give her that bottle she scrunched her face all up and pooped. And pooped and pooped and pooped. After three diaper changes, she finally did nurse and fall asleep for a little bit.....ah, sweet peace. Poor, poor girl, she's doing a little better, but Mommy sure could use a drink.
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