The other night, Miss E. woke up around 10 p.m. screaming her head off.
I tried to nurse her. I rocked her. I sang to her.
Still she screamed.
The minutes went by. My frustration was mounting. I couldn’t catch my breath. Her sweet little face was dripping with tears as she continued to wail.
The hubby and I took turns rubbing her back, trying to get her to calm down.
I was on the verge of crying myself.
Hold yourself together Erin.
About a half hour later (seemed like hours honestly), after walking laps around the house, a dose of Tylenol and more rocking, she was back in her crib, where she remained for the rest of the night.
But I couldn’t sleep.
I’m not sure there is anything worse than not being able to help your child.
I hate that I couldn’t help her immediately. Ease her pain, her turmoil.
And she’s only an infant. What’s it going to be like when she’s older? When her heart gets broken for the first time? When a friend betrays her? Those times will come.
I’m not ready for them.
I want to live in the land of sunshine and unicorns. Where my little girl always has a big smile on her face. Where tears don’t exist.
I want to protect her from the world, shield her from all the bad things that lie in wait.
It’s not possible.
I know it. I’m helpless to time.
So I do what I can do? Hug her and kiss her when she’s sad. Rock her and soothe her when she’s sick. And stand by her side whenever she needs me.
Mama’s here baby. Mama loves you.