Love in the Time of Colic
So, I was sitting here thinking.
Thinking mostly about how utterly wonderful my husband is while he slaves over the stove for me, which made me think about my stretch marks, which made me think about being pregnant, which made me think about chocolate, which made me think about Nathan and the Time of Colic.
Yeah, I know there is sometimes not much connection between my thought processes, but bear with me.
Anyway, I was reminiscing about how much better things are with Nathan approaching his sixth month birthday. He was my little Demon Child from when he was a mere two weeks old on up until he was almost 2 months old. Granted, it wasn’t a horribly long stretch of time in hindsight, but we all have 20/20 vision then, right?
At the time, those few weeks seemed like eternity.
I thought it was forever.
Every single day was a drudgery: wake up in a bad mood, do something to piss off my sweetly sleeping husband because, you know, misery loves company and the sight of him sleeping peacefully while I had to get up and be whipped around by a newborn just infuriated me, then I would feed the baby, mad the whole time because, I don’t know, I just needed to be mad about something. Then, I would return to bed mad about being mad, and my 6’6″ tall husband’s feet hanging off the end of the bed would irritate me, so I would have to dive-bomb into the bed, complete with angry sighs and grunts.
Then I would feel horrible about being so illogically mad that I couldn’t sleep… and the cycle would continue.
Oh, what two hours of sleep a night and a newborn with colic will do to a woman.
Nathan cried. A lot.
When things went his way, however, he was a little angel.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go his way all the time and when his world was awry, he let us know instantly. I never thought such little lungs could possibly have the capacity to drive me to the brink of insanity, piercing my brain like a newly sharpened dagger, the blood of my soul dripping from it’s shiny blade. His mouth would open to maximum capacity, his tongue would raise up, a large vein would protrude from the side of his head and I swear I could even see those tonsils quiver.
Things are so much better now than they were then.
He’s like a totally different baby; so precious and smiley, my little cuddle bug who likes to snuggle in the crook between my neck and shoulder, the little guy who gives me kisses with an open mouth planted on my cheek, complete with sloppy sucking noises. He is the best thing to have ever happened to my husband and me, except for us meeting because then Nathan could have never happened… and as awful and the Time of Colic was, I wouldn’t trade it.
It taught me some valuable lessons about love and about anger and the ridiculousness of it- and what a patient and tolerant man my husband Paul is.