Today you just want to be held. You’ve been doing so well sleeping in your bassinet and crib, but this evening you cry after a few minutes each time we lie you down. Your daddy and I have been taking turns rocking you and singing to you. I wish we knew what was upsetting you. We’ve made sure you have a clean nappy, are warm and have had your fill of breastmilk. We’ve burped you, we’ve raised your legs and gently bent your knees to relieve wind, and we’ve soothed you. But still you wake up screaming as if in pain.
The only time you seemed happy to stay asleep today was when I wore you in the baby carrier, so maybe you just wanted to be close and hear my heartbeat. Or perhaps being upright helped with the wind and/or reflux. Or maybe it was just a coincidence and your body finally had a break from whatever discomfort you were feeling.
I’ve never felt quite as helpless as when you scream and I don’t know how to make it better. I know there will be many things in your life that I won’t be able to fix for you, but for now, I’ll fix what I can.