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Teething has been all about the whining, the fussing, the hanging on the boob, the loss of patience. I don’t really know how much more I can take, some days. I feel I’m at my wits end with the whining and the fussing. I start to lose it. I just get so sick of hearing it. When Hun is home, he tries to help. Fussing through the evening is almost harder as I’ve been listening to it for a couple hours already.
I wonder, how on earth does Baby wake up playful, cheery, smiling, laughing, and then start melting down after about two hours. Lying down or holding him through an entire nap is so difficult sometimes. The list doesn’t end, rather it builds the longer I’m still.
Yes, I’ve done the wrap. I don’t mind it. Baby is so heavy and moves so much. The wrap works for him sometimes. Sometimes it doesn’t.
I imagine baby is frustrated; his gums are hurting and I’m not making things better. There’s only so much I can do with one hand in his mouth. Take the toy I sometimes yell. Just be quiet. Stop I say.
He responds with a look as if to say, “What mommy? My mouth hurts. Help me. I can’t help it. I don’t have words so I’m crying.” I interpret any look of stun or confusion as failing. I know all he wants is me. The day isn’t yet half over and Hun’s not due to arrive for hours yet.
What am I to do? I don’t want to lose it. I can’t lose it. I won’t hurt Baby. I won’t leave him. I want to just be away from the noise. I want the noise to stop. Baby is great. The noise is not. I can’t take it. My mind goes blank. Not blank, but fuzzy. It’s like I’ve taken some unknown drug that affects only my mind and I can’t do anything and I just get frustrated that I’m frustrated and I can’t think of how to make it stop. I can’t figure a way to clear the fuzzies so I know what to do.
Instead of walking out, leaving, running away from the noise. I keep trying. Through the fuzzy fog, I keep going. Somehow we both go up and down and up again. We are both relatively ok for a few minutes. This should be a reprieve, but I don’t relish it, I know there’s more coming again. So, instead of being happy and grateful, I’m waiting. Waiting for the next bout of noise where we both are lost in the noise and not each other. When he’s reaching for me and I’m looking at him unsure what to do. When I pick him up and he’s still not too pleased. When I see that he wants me to help him and I’m out of ideas. Waiting until I the feeling of failure once again washes over me.
I have to keep going though. I have to keep trying. I have to move away from the frustrated moments. I have to do – something, anything that he requires me to do. I have to get the minutes. I’m forcing myself (and him) to get the minutes. By doing so, I’m wasting the minutes that do come.
I try to remember, we’re in this together – Baby and I. No damage is done. We’re both new at this – him getting along in this world and me being a mother. Every day we work on it some more. Maybe one day I really will get a magic wand. I don’t have it yet.
Until then, Baby and I – well we’ll just keep going. And Hun will keep taking over.