We've had a tough couple of days around here. Someone traded my easygoing sweet baby for a cranky, needy, sleepless 4 month old. Every so often, I get flashes of her usually sunny self, but for some reason, the poor kid is going through a rough patch.
And it's totally wearing me out.
There are times when I totally feel like I'm a brand new parent with no idea what to do.
After trying just about everything with C yesterday to get her to go down for the night, I finally decided that perhaps she should just lie down and put herself to sleep.
Not. Happening.
A few minutes later, I picked her up and tried to rock her. She kept crying. I tried to nurse her. Still crying. I tried the swing. And the crying continued.
After about 20 minutes, it was both of us in tears.
She was SO exhausted. But would. NOT. sleep.
In my head, I knew that this wouldn't last forever. That she's going through a stage and eventually she'll sleep and eat and play like she used to. In my head it all made sense.
In my heart, I was wrecked. My baby was crying and I couldn't fix it. I'm the Mom... I'm supposed to fix it. If I can't, who can?
Two hours of off and on crying, and I finally held a calm baby in my arms. She wasn't sleeping. But she had her trusty two fingers in her mouth and she lay there, staring at me.
Slowly, her face crinkled into a smile behind her fingers and she reached one hand up to touch my face.
She trusts me, she wants me, she loves me.
No matter what.
And that? That's balm for a weary mother's soul. Every time.
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