By March 19, Wynn was beginning to look less and less like the tiny infant we came to know in the NICU and more and more like a baby boy. Sometimes as I held him, I would look down at his sleeping face and see the little boy he was growing into.
At this point, he and I had spent so much time together, I was beginning to feel we were best friends. However, that doesn’t mean we didn’t occasionally disagree. If it were up to me… and Wynn… I would have had him in my arms all the time. I hadn’t truly explored the concept of attachment parenting, but my instincts told me that the best place for him was always in the arms of one of his parents. Unfortunately, that wasn’t always possible. Never had I experienced so much guilt as I now do as a parent. Do I shower or hold my child? Do I eat breakfast or hold my child? In the early weeks, he would sleep through many of these tasks, but as we passed the two month mark, he started to find his voice. I would feed him, get him to sleep, lay him down and sprint to the shower for three, five if I really pushed it, minutes. Emerging from the bathroom to his screams were some of the most guilt laden moments for me. How could I let my child cry in fear, sadness or hunger for even a moment?
This is something that I actually continue to struggle with. His crying never annoys or frustrates me. It just literally breaks my heart.
This is around the same time that we came to know a phenomenon called “colic.”
I’m not quite sure it’s been determined exactly what causes colic or even truly what it is, but it’s a period in an infant’s life where they are inconsolable for several hours a night for anywhere from 6 weeks to several months. Some say it’s due to intestinal issues like gas, or the baby’s still maturing digestive system. All I know is that just when we were high-fiving each other for making it past “The Witching Hour,” Wynn began to have periods from 6-9 p.m. each night where we would cry non stop. We could feed him, rock him, walk him, attempt to distract him, it didn’t matter. He was pissed.
Honestly, it was Ben that got the worst of it. I spent my days with Wynn and often by 6 p.m. I was spent. Ben would come home and was usually greeted by me handing him our child. I really can’t say enough about Ben’s patience and love as a father… and truly his love as a husband. Those three hours each night would have made me want to rip my heart out and run screaming out of the house. He most likely recognized this, and would feed and patiently attempt to sooth Wynn as he screamed bloody murder for no apparent reason, night after night.
You might think the second month was bleak for all involved. But it was around this time, that even with the endless evenings of crying and feeding, we somehow managed to find our confidence. We spent four days in Charlotte while Ben attended a class and Wynn and I learned to live out of a hotel. We ate all our meals in restaurants and Wynn saw his first city.
One thing we learned from this experience is that Wynn is actually quite a good traveler. He sleeps easily and soundly in the car, isn’t picky when it comes to bottle temperature and stays pretty content as long as he’s dry and his belly is full. I have to admit, some grown ups can’t even manage that.