newborn tendencies

He who shall not be named has not officially arrived, but judging by the week we’ve had you’d think there is a newborn living in this house. Our girl’s croup and cold/cough when we returned home on Sunday had us back into the ol’ taking turns routine at all hours of the night. There were late night stoop walks wrapped in blankets and wearing UGGS with pjs. This time around when I asked Caroline to “take a deep breath” she was able to oblige and breathe in that frigid cold night air deeply into her lungs. We got through almost an entire week of multiple wake ups that left Steve and I both exhausted and headed for our bed hours before our regular bedtime.

Bedtime last night brought complaints that “my belly hurt” and led to sporadic cries of agony mixed with complete contentment watching some Mickey. Caroline snuggled into bed with some coaxing that we chalked up to being sick and developing some bad habits this week. There was quiet over the monitor save for the sounds of her U2 Lullaby CD. An hour into “The Taking of Pelham 123” came the anguished heartbreaking cries. We snuggled her, we comforted her, we took her to the potty countless times, she complained about her belly, there were so many tears. We looked at each other and wondered if this was an act of manipulation, if it was gas, it some internal organ was about to bust through her skin. She went back and forth between us asking to be held, to lay down, to be held again. Steve googled. I tweeted. He went to the pharmacy for mylicon and gripe water – hello NEWBORN much? I did my best to comfort her in his absence and found myself overwhelmed with trying to hold her in my arms, my lap, against my chest with a watermelon in my belly. I wanted desperately to comfort Caroline while also assuring the safety of Macadamia. It was a no win and I felt completely helpless to do anything but stroke her precious curls, tap her bum repeatedly, tell her princess caroline stories, and assure her that Daddy would be home soon and she would feel better.

The mylicon worked. Steve said he could see her face change from agony to relief suddenly and before long she agreed to lay down in her bed and boom, she was out. It was truly like having a new baby, wondering what the heck the baby wants/needs and feeling completely powerless. I think anyone who’s ever been in that position can attest that there is no worse feeling as a parent than not being able to make things better. Caroline has certainly provided us with an accurate reminder of the life we have ahead of us for the next few months.

Today the gas is gone. Our Caroline is back. Her nose is drying up and the lingering cough is finally starting to go away. Steve’s watching the Playoffs and I’ll be painting the trim in Mr. Macadamia’s nursery. We’ve been home all weekend, without a single plan or any direction whatsoever and that feels pretty darn good. It has been restful, restorative even, and while we imagined nearly a month ago that there would be four of us here this weekend – it’s been pretty good to have this time just us three.


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