Friday morning, around 5 a.m., Suzianne became possessed by the devil.
She cried so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. This made her tired, which made her scream all the more.
She would not eat. In fact, the more I tried to offer her the boob, the more freaked out she got. The only way to soothe her was to swaddle her up, lay her on her side and drown her in an ocean of Sleep Sheep.
The day was so bad, it broke my 15 day tooth-brushing streak. (sigh)
No, I don’t have any photo evidence of these six hours of torment. I only have one from the half hour or so when she forgot what was making her scream, but was still pissed:
I was too overwhelmed and freaked out and sad and scared to document the screaming.
Finally, I texted Dave and asked him to come home from work. I honestly didn’t know what else to do.
Within an hour of my text, Dave was home. He scooped up Suzianne and somehow instantly made her all better.
Blessedly, Dave fed her five ounces of breast milk. She had not eaten in hours, which, according to Dr. Internet, clearly meant she was on death’s door.
Then, we went for a walk in Dave’s new fancy pants jogging stroller (thank you, co-workers of Dave!):
When we got home, she slept for another hour. It was heavenly.
And then last night, for the first time in 53 days, Suzianne did not demand a 5:30 a.m. feeding. This is HUGE people. HUGE.
So yesterday ended well, thanks to Dave The Baby Whisperer.
But I still haven’t brushed my teeth since Thursday night.
Hang in there, friend. Apparently someday you’ll look back at these moments and laugh… apparently. Happy Saturday! Hope it’s wondful.