My house is full of tear drops. Baby cries in pain. I cry in sympathy. Husband rants and raves. I cry in frustration. Daughter acts out, gets put in time out and cries.
For someone that never cried, I do a lot of it now. Several times a day. Baby is still not having bowel movements. We are going to a chiropractor today. Then a pediatric gastroenterologist tomorrow. We're praying on the one hand that it is nothing, or on the other hand that it is something that can be easily corrected. We just want answers and reassurance and a happy baby. I miss the times I spent with Daughter just hanging out, staring at her eyes and talking to her. I haven't gotten to do that with Baby. Except last night when, at 3 am, he was miserable and just laid his head on my chest and started at me with his big blue eyes and grunted in pain. Then I cried.
He finds some relief in being upright. With feet tucked under him. So he sleeps on me - propped on my chest. There is something nice about having him curled up with me. Although sleeping upright is taking a number on my back - hence the visit to the chiropractor - for him and me.
I'm plodding along - just acting by rote memory and doing one thing after another. Work keeps calling and wanting me to think - I can't. Not straight anyway. So they'll just have to wait.