Hello there, gorgeous! How I wish I knew what made you cry so. Your poor little tummy must hurt hurt hurt. Only six or eight weeks more and that digestive tract should be stronger and hopefully you won’t spend so many hours of each day screaming and all worked up. Poor little guy.
I’ve spent a fortune on bottles, hoping the fancy air vents and contraptions do something to help ease your discomfort. You have such a hard time eating, even from a bottle. You get so worked up, and even though you’re hungry (I know you are, even if you shake your head), you’re too worked up to take it. We have to wait until you’ve calmed down, and then, gently, carefully, finally, you’ll eat. If we’re ever so careful, that is, and if you don’t get all worked up again. You’d starve to death if you had to suckle me, and I’d be a frayed and frazzled mess. Even more so than I am. It’s all we can do to keep you fed with the bottle!
Your brother had colic, and he screamed inconsolably for several hours. Every. Single. Day. Well, late afternoon and into the evening. And then he turned three months old, and became a happy boy.
You’re not nearly so inconsolable as your brother was. Inconsolable, yes, but you go in bouts of only an hour or two. And you spread them out all through the day. It makes me sad that you have so many minutes of unhappiness.
Even when you cry, I love the sound of your voice, and I can’t wait for you to turn into a happy happy boy. I’m looking forward to hearing you coo and gurgle and giggle and seeing the sparkle in your eyes.
I don’t want to rush through your infancy, but it would be nice to fast forward past the rough stuff. Only the rough stuff though. I want to treasure and savor all your baby goodness, and gobble you up, my beautiful, beautiful boy!
babelbabe Says:
