The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Sadie had a bad week last week.

It's funny because I didn't actually realize it until it was over; it doesn't really work that way. She'll often have an off day, where she's especially fussy or sleepy or otherwise bad-tempered, and it's usually followed by a better day. When I think back on last week, though, it was a progression of really tough days.

She cried a lot. They say babies are too young at this age to experience separation anxiety, but try explaining that to a baby who screams every time you leave her line of vision. (After all, as far as she knows, once she can't see me anymore I have ceased to exist entirely.) She managed to completely wear out our otherwise saintly babysitter with nonstop fussing. She'd cry when you put her on her back to play. She'd cry before naps. She'd cry upon waking up from naps.

It all culminated in a day that was worse than all the rest -- Super Bowl Sunday. She fussed pretty much all day, refused to go to sleep, then got overtired and fussed even harder. She just seemed miserable. She wanted to nurse constantly, and eventually I ran out of milk and that REALLY pissed her off.

That's the other thing about this past week -- her stomach, like, doubled in size. Quite literally, she went from taking 4 or 5 ounces of milk at an average feeding to taking 7 or 8. That's a big enough jump that my body can't adjust right away, which means I'm just nursing steadily trying to up my milk supply, while supplementing with frozen milk. I try to pump an extra feeding's worth of milk every morning, but most mornings last week I would just wind up feeding it right back to her in order to satiate her, and was starting to panic about running out of milk entirely.

This week, fortunately, things have finally leveled out. I'm producing enough milk (the key is drinking an assload of water and never letting yourself get dehydrated), so that helps, but more to the point, I think Sadie's just come out the far end of a wicked growth spurt.

And what is our reward for having toughed it out? Oh, it's pretty awesome. She emerged from her growth spurt a brand new baby. Instead of a laugh here and there, she now belly-laughs for minutes at a end, amused by surprising little things like the way we pronounce a word or a toy being bounced across her line of vision. She utterly adores her Jumparoo, and instead of melting into the seat and bobbling like she did last week, she now holds herself up and jumps up and down so enthusiastically that she has, on occasion, freaked herself out. And until you have witnessed a baby who's shrieking with joy and crying with terror at the same time, my friend, you have not LIVED.