So lately my Jude has been a bit of a roller coaster. Beastie brute one minute, and the sweetest honey-pie the next. Never saw such a moody little peanut. He's working through some things, I guess. But tonight he lost his pacifier. Now, I've been meaning to get rid of that thing. The girls got theirs taken away at 12 month, so he is 3 months overdue, and I have just been avoiding the issue. As I have mentioned, he can have his cantankerous moments, and he has been sick on and off... honestly, I just don't want another battle on my hands. But he lost it. So I call that providential, and put the little fella to bed sans binky. It took him about 30 minutes to get to sleep. I don't know how I ever got through letting the girls cry through their nighttime wake up period, 'cause it was a longish half-hour. But at any rate, I felt good about it, and so when he started up again, and more fiercely than before, I gritted my teeth and finished the blog post I was reading. When I went in to settle him down, he was on his knees, facing the wall, just screaming, and he didn't turn around when I came in. Then I tried to pick him up, and realized that the poor child's arm was stuck in the crib rails. Jerk Mom that I am! Fortunately, it wasn't wedged, it just needed a little room to straighten out, so as soon as I pulled the crib out from the wall, he pulled it out himself and stopped crying. So the pain couldn't have been too awful, but the poor dude!
I picked him up and cradled him as he settled, but it broke my heart to hear how his breath caught in his throat with each inhale, that sad sad mark of having cried too hard for too long. I distinctly remember that feeling from my childhood, how I wanted so badly to just stop crying and move on, but my physical body was so disturbed that I had to wait through that cooldown phase, when even my breathing bore the evidence of recent trauma. His deep breaths were the pitiful multiple catching ones. His puffy little face took me back to that nearly 10 pound newborn that I brought home from the hospital over a year ago. I could see him so clearly in this big guy's vulnerability.
I kissed his little twitchy face, his marshmallow cheeks, and his perfect full lips, and as he drifted back to sleep, his brow still slightly furrowed, I ached for his baby sensibilities, as he had had a bad night all around. But as I laid him in his crib and he made his little adjustments of comfort and habit, he reached down and felt around for his belly button, stuck his index finger in it, and looked completely peaceful. I guess he's already found his new pacifier.
4 comments:
Isn't it great how they forgive and forget so quickly.
You're an awesome mom, Em!
Dad
aw, thanks Dad!
"His marshmallow cheeks..." i must say...he does look delicious. And squishable. But poor buddy, that sounds like a tough night, and poor you too.
Maddie got her arm stuck in the crib once a little while back and I felt so badly. She had cried once for a little bit but I just ignored it because she usually just fusses for a few seconds and goes back to sleep. But then she cried again and it sounded different so I thankfully did go check on her. This makes me a little less hesitant to go into her when she cries now...although thankfully it is not very often.
Poor little Jude...it's so pitiful when their bodies are so worn out from crying. That is the cutest thing that he put his finger in his bellybutton : ) A nice, peacful end to the night.
Post a Comment