The view from the end of my rope.
Where to begin?
When I was 15, I developed a terrible temper. This was dragged out of me by my then-girlfriend Arielle, and her fat know-it-all shrew of a mother. Her mother perpetrated all sorts of cuntery (tm) on me, including telling me my xmas gift from Arielle was stolen. I just realized how many of the exchanges between her mother and me have been repressed, since I can't remember many of them, but that may have to do with the amount of sleep I've had (incidentally, the point of this post). Anyway, the only mementos I have from that relationship are a strangely curved metacarpal in my hand known as a healed boxer's fracture (Suffice it to say that your hand gives WAY before a cinderblock wall in the hallway of Lisle Senior High), and the remnants of two METAL softball bats I managed to break in half by repeatedly hitting a tree with them.
It is because of those manifestations of uncontrollable rage that I didn't drink alcohol until I was 22.
I'm recollecting all of this because I've recently rediscovered all that rage while taking care of my infant daughter. LET ME STOP HERE AND POINT OUT THAT I HAVE NOT PHYSICALLY EXPRESSED THIS FRUSTRATION IN ANY WAY BUT A FEW PILLOW SCREAMS, AND MAYBE POUNDING THE FLOOR IN FRUSTRATION. I WOULD NOT, AND WILL NOT EVER DIRECT MY RAGE AT SOMEONE I LOVE. HENCE THE COLLECTION ABOVE.
Now that that's out of the way, let me attempt to paint a picture for you of what it's like to have a child with colic.
My wife soothed her to sleep by 8:30. She awoke with a start at 9:00, screaming and writhing uncontrollably. We had tried a new cereal on her and mixed it with formula (also new), so I am HOPING this is the root of all of this. We had the worst night last night since the second night she was home. I also think the diet change may be responsible because of the hilariously large farts she was letting. After some medicine drops for gas, she settled back down and I put her to bed at 9:35. She awoke screaming again ant 11:30, and my wife took that bullet, staying up with her until one. And again at 3. This time, Kiki fed her, and then I got to take over. We went from the rocking chair to the floor to the guest bed; All the while Miette vascillated between asleep and blood-curdling scream. Finally at 4:30, I put her in her swing, and she stayed calm until 5. I then held her in our bed while she screamed.
It was at that moment that I started crying. All I wanted was for her to stop crying. All I could think was "I wish I was Dead".
I don't, of course, but I was so beyond frustrated. I was gentle as ever to her, but I was crumbling on the inside. When the alarm went of at 5:45, everything was fine and she was all smiles and laughs... so was I. That's the nature of this colic shit. Hence my Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde analogy in previous posts. She was a doll all morning, and she held my hand on the way to day care.
I love her more than anything in the world, and wouldn't give up being a dad for anything. She's truly a treasure. But that colic, man, that colic could drive a man to lose control.
When I was 15, I developed a terrible temper. This was dragged out of me by my then-girlfriend Arielle, and her fat know-it-all shrew of a mother. Her mother perpetrated all sorts of cuntery (tm) on me, including telling me my xmas gift from Arielle was stolen. I just realized how many of the exchanges between her mother and me have been repressed, since I can't remember many of them, but that may have to do with the amount of sleep I've had (incidentally, the point of this post). Anyway, the only mementos I have from that relationship are a strangely curved metacarpal in my hand known as a healed boxer's fracture (Suffice it to say that your hand gives WAY before a cinderblock wall in the hallway of Lisle Senior High), and the remnants of two METAL softball bats I managed to break in half by repeatedly hitting a tree with them.
It is because of those manifestations of uncontrollable rage that I didn't drink alcohol until I was 22.
I'm recollecting all of this because I've recently rediscovered all that rage while taking care of my infant daughter. LET ME STOP HERE AND POINT OUT THAT I HAVE NOT PHYSICALLY EXPRESSED THIS FRUSTRATION IN ANY WAY BUT A FEW PILLOW SCREAMS, AND MAYBE POUNDING THE FLOOR IN FRUSTRATION. I WOULD NOT, AND WILL NOT EVER DIRECT MY RAGE AT SOMEONE I LOVE. HENCE THE COLLECTION ABOVE.
Now that that's out of the way, let me attempt to paint a picture for you of what it's like to have a child with colic.
My wife soothed her to sleep by 8:30. She awoke with a start at 9:00, screaming and writhing uncontrollably. We had tried a new cereal on her and mixed it with formula (also new), so I am HOPING this is the root of all of this. We had the worst night last night since the second night she was home. I also think the diet change may be responsible because of the hilariously large farts she was letting. After some medicine drops for gas, she settled back down and I put her to bed at 9:35. She awoke screaming again ant 11:30, and my wife took that bullet, staying up with her until one. And again at 3. This time, Kiki fed her, and then I got to take over. We went from the rocking chair to the floor to the guest bed; All the while Miette vascillated between asleep and blood-curdling scream. Finally at 4:30, I put her in her swing, and she stayed calm until 5. I then held her in our bed while she screamed.
It was at that moment that I started crying. All I wanted was for her to stop crying. All I could think was "I wish I was Dead".
I don't, of course, but I was so beyond frustrated. I was gentle as ever to her, but I was crumbling on the inside. When the alarm went of at 5:45, everything was fine and she was all smiles and laughs... so was I. That's the nature of this colic shit. Hence my Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde analogy in previous posts. She was a doll all morning, and she held my hand on the way to day care.
I love her more than anything in the world, and wouldn't give up being a dad for anything. She's truly a treasure. But that colic, man, that colic could drive a man to lose control.
posted by Zach at 10:29 AM
1 Comments:
oh zach, i hear colic is the worst. i bet you are great with her. there can't be many things more frustrating. you know, if you ever want a night off... this isn't a bit.
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