Jesus, Jesus I am Resting

You know you’re at a new stage of life when you burst into song when your child latches onto your left breast. I still remember the days when a good grade, snow day or certain young fella talking to me led to this sort of reaction (What? Am I the only one who does this?). Now the baby determines whether it will be a fun-filled musical sort of day or frightening post-partum hormonal explosion of craziness like last night.

This was precipitated by the last few days when he would only eat from one side, which may or may not have led to my breakdown. Not pretty. Apparently “crying it out” is something the baby is supposed to do.* Granted, Owen had cried most of the day and was only lulled to sleep when in the Baby Bjorn or stroller. Zach got home and offered to watch him for a bit so I could get a break and run some errands. I had editing to do and he was quiet, so I declined. Bad move. He ended up throwing a fit until he collapsed in fatigue on my shoulder. At which point Zach got home.

Heaven forbid, however, that my husband tells anyone I was “frustrated” by the baby’s inexplicable fussiness. This clearly meant that he felt I was inadequate as a mother. Cue passive aggressive quietness and then Cryee McCryster once the husband asks why I’m sad. You know you’re in bad shape when a sympathetic ear, hot cup of Ovaltine, and suggestion of going to bed early won’t cure you. If Owen’s taught me anything, it's that sometimes only a good cry can bring you back to sanity.

Half an hour later, I’m good to go. Which was important, since Owen was gearing up for a night of fun. Today, the little angel took a long morning nap, ate both sides, and soothed himself to sleep in the bouncy seat. For those who think being a SAHM is boring, perhaps you should consider the excitement of wondering, “Will he sleep today? Will he freak out? Is that poop leaking out of his diaper?”

I thank God for my husband who saw me sob into my pillow for maybe the second time in our marriage and did not sign commitment papers. And who can begrudge my sweet baby anything? If you do, I’ll send you a picture of his precious face. Then come and kick the begrudgery out of you. As for now, at 6 weeks in, I think I was due for an emotional release. I hate not being able to pull the “mind-over-matter” thing while it’s happening, but so be it. At least it allows me to rejoice when it’s over and enjoy little pleasures so much more. Like eating from both sides.

* We somewhat let Owen “cry it out” yesterday. This may have contributed to what followed later in the evening. After letting him scream in his crib for 20 minutes, I asked Zach to please go get him. I was called into the baby’s room to see the huge circle of sweat soaking the bedsheet. My poor purple-faced son was hot and miserable. Who came up with this tactic?