Seven Weeks Old!

So our little monster got super monster-y all of a sudden. Very fussy, and upset all the time which could not be consoled, not even the night I breastfeed her for almost FIVE HOURS STRAIGHT.

You wanna see something scary? Go back to that night and peek in my window. It's me sitting on the couch, crying my eyes out because my baby is crying her eyes out, shoving my raw boob in her face, which (admittedly is totally fair) makes her start crying even more, which makes me start crying even more, which makes her father take one more step back away from the Duo of Crazy so that he doesn't get caught in the mix, all the while a glass of wine is staring at me from the coffee table, taunting me because it knows there's no way I'm ever going to drink it this night, not even if she stops crying and goes to sleep, because chances are, at that point my eyes will be so salt-soaked, and puffed together I won't be able to get the glass to my mouth before I spill it down my shirt slash fall asleep mid-sip, which of course it the trigger to waking a sleeping baby thus repeating the whole crying-feeding-saddest-looking-boobs-ever night.

So, of course I start wildly googling 'colic' and 'reflux' and 'fix my baby', and those sites led to me other sites, which led me to other sites, which scare me so that leads me to other sites, and somehow suddenly I'm on my sixth grade ex-boyfriend's facebook page reading all about his cousin's melasma and wondering why I didn't get melasma when I was pregnant. And also wondering how I ended up on Facebook since I don't even have a Facebook page.

Anyway, my point is - do not google stuff when you're worried about your baby.

DON'T DO IT.

Or you'll end up on the phone with your mom, sobbing for no reason, then will look down at your baby and see she's getting black splotches on her skin. Black splotches! That's it, you'll think, she's got a weird skin disease and we'll have to see specialists, and have treatments, and kids will make fun of her but that's ok because it will weed out the good kids from the bad kids and she'll make life long friends with real people who like her despite her black splotches. And then you realize you're sobbing. Right over her. And those black splotches? Those are mascara tears.

Oh the joys of motherhood!

At least I got mascara on that day.

So, I called the doctor the next morning and we brought her in to be looked at and lo and behold, she does not have the 7 million horrible things I thought she did - she just wasn't getting enough to eat.

Oh yeah, 'cause that's better. I'm not feeding her enough. She weighs 8 pounds now, only up a 1/2 pound from three weeks prior, and she should be up about a pound.

Cut to me crying in the doctor's office and he's like:

"It's ok, it's because she's sleeping so much. You might want to just try shortening her naps. No big deal."

And I'm all, " . . . **SOB**. . . "

And he's all, "You're very lucky she's such a good sleeper."

And I'm all, ". . . **SOB** . . " only even louder because I'm starving my baby.

And he's all, " . . . "

And I'm all, "I'll *SOB* try to get more *SOB* feedings in."

And he's all, "Yeah. . . you know it doesn't look good when the mom's walk out of here crying." And then he shot my boyfriend a look like - please can you make her stop. And the boyfriend shot him a look right back that said - are you kidding? Don't you think I'd be doing something about it the past ten months if I knew how?

And then I cried some more, and the Dr stayed with us for about 45 minutes, either because he's very caring and thorough, or because he really didn't want me walking out sobbing - either way it was very nice of him.

I'm not sure how her weight gain is going, we'll find out next week. But I am feeding her all the live long day. Every two hours to be exact. And this is what I get in return:



A sneaky little smile. Just between us.






And this, pure laughter.

You're welcome baby! Mama loves you so much. Raw boobs and all.