Weary
The colic seems to have stepped up a notch this week for some reason. At first I thought it was the shots, but I don't think so anymore. Tonight, my sisters and I tried to go out for Thai food with Anna. That lasted a whole of ten minutes before we asked them to just wrap it up to go. I knew better.
I know that everyone is probably sick to death of me boo-hooing about my colic and lack of sleep "plight." I do feel like a big wussy actually. There are a heck of a lot worse things happening in the world. But honestly, with a colicky baby, your world seems to shrink considerably. I went to work this morning (sans Anna--her father watched her) to pick up some papers from my boss. I work with quite a few baby-crazy women and they were all disappointed that I didn't bring the baby. "How is she? How is she?" I found myself at a loss for happy, chipper baby talk. "Fussy," I said. Not what they wanted to hear, but phooey on them.
I am finding myself torn. Part of me is ready to go back to work, just to get a break. To have an adult conversation NOT concerning the color of poop. But then I stopped by the sitters today to drop off some paperwork, and I left with a knot in my stomach. I don't care how much she screams, I am going to miss her terribly during the day. She is her happiest in the morning, and I am going to miss all of that everyday. I will miss her fuzzy head and big blue eyes. And we just figured out breastfeeding, but I'm going to have to go back to that dreadful pump during the workday.
It's just hard because, as much as I often feel clueless with this motherhood thing, nobody knows her better than me. I can tell the difference in all her cries. I can comfort her better than anyone else. I know the diaper rash cream that works best on her butt. I can almost guarantee that I have been the only person to pick lint from between her toes. I can even tell by the sound of her poots whether it was just air or juicy, and thus needs to be changed.
I guess every working mother probably goes through this...
I know that everyone is probably sick to death of me boo-hooing about my colic and lack of sleep "plight." I do feel like a big wussy actually. There are a heck of a lot worse things happening in the world. But honestly, with a colicky baby, your world seems to shrink considerably. I went to work this morning (sans Anna--her father watched her) to pick up some papers from my boss. I work with quite a few baby-crazy women and they were all disappointed that I didn't bring the baby. "How is she? How is she?" I found myself at a loss for happy, chipper baby talk. "Fussy," I said. Not what they wanted to hear, but phooey on them.
I am finding myself torn. Part of me is ready to go back to work, just to get a break. To have an adult conversation NOT concerning the color of poop. But then I stopped by the sitters today to drop off some paperwork, and I left with a knot in my stomach. I don't care how much she screams, I am going to miss her terribly during the day. She is her happiest in the morning, and I am going to miss all of that everyday. I will miss her fuzzy head and big blue eyes. And we just figured out breastfeeding, but I'm going to have to go back to that dreadful pump during the workday.
It's just hard because, as much as I often feel clueless with this motherhood thing, nobody knows her better than me. I can tell the difference in all her cries. I can comfort her better than anyone else. I know the diaper rash cream that works best on her butt. I can almost guarantee that I have been the only person to pick lint from between her toes. I can even tell by the sound of her poots whether it was just air or juicy, and thus needs to be changed.
I guess every working mother probably goes through this...
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