Eat, sleep, scream and poop.

In the midst of another screaming meltdown, mom and dad share a desperate glance. His stomach is upset, he hasn't slept more than a thirty minute span all day and he wants to eat every hour. But everything he eats is regurgitated onto his clothes, the bed, the floor. He stops screaming for five minutes only to start screaming again. Neither one of us know what to do. We would do anything to make him happy. Anything to get a few hours sleep. Then, as we both approach the verge of a meltdown ourselves, a wild elephant is heard from the bathroom.

Laughter breaks the desperation in the precise moment of need.

We received a toy elephant at a baby shower that makes a wild elephant cry when you squeeze it's belly. But apparently, you don't have to actually squeeze it's belly. The elephant has a mind of it's own.

We finally get him down for the night and somehow make it through the weekend. We called the doctor on Monday morning and got some advice that helped keep everyone sane. His stomach isn't developed and he has gas. He confuses a stomach ache with hunger, but spits everything up because his stomach is full. We bought some over-the-counter medicine and only feed him every two hours, no matter how much he wants to eat. We managed to keep him calm while counting down the minutes until meal time, and the medicine seems to be working. Everyone told us it would be hard at first, and we had no idea what we were in for. Everyone was right. We knew it would be hard, and it is. But everyone was also right when they said it's worth it. The hours of screaming test our sanity, but the minutes of calm are priceless. He is so precious. So beautiful. And we both love him so much. We take him for walks (which he graciously sleeps throughout the duration) giving mom and dad some time to talk and enjoy each others company.

The lessons we are learning on a daily basis could not have come without living with a newborn. We learned not to keep anything of aesthetic value in a certain range of the changing table, because projectile poop often hits the wall. I also never thought I would laugh after getting shat upon. We learned that alarm clock my mom gave me for christmas several years ago with the built in nature sounds in now invaluable: white noise soothe baby to sleep. We've learned how to hold him when he cries, how to talk to him, and for some reason simply walking him once around the house is sometimes enough to put him back to sleep.

It is truly amazing looking at this little person, this little ball of baby who's very life depends on you, and seeing yourself in his eyes. Just like everyone said, there is nothing that compares to that feeling. No matter how much he makes me crazy for a majority of the day. No matter how much I sometimes hate dealing with making baby happy. His wide eyes and rich little personality, just waiting to see the world, makes it impossible to imagine life any other way. I find myself, in the glorious time he is asleep, staring at him. Wanting him to wake up so I can pick him up. Then I remember what will happen moments after he wakes up. So I gratefully watch t.v. and hope I can make it through an entire show.


With Uncle Mark on gameday.











Dreaming of a field of boobs.











Daddy loves me.











Meme loves me too.