Baby was crying on Saturday evening - on and off from around 6:30 until around 8:15.
I have been told, and I have read, that such limited crying qualifies Baby for the "easy" category of babies. Allow me to state for the record that describing a newborn as "easy" to a Momma In Training falls flat, very flat, and with a great thud as it hits the floor. Perhaps, instead of categorizing Baby as "easy," we could start referring to this category of babies as "Thank The Great Baby Lottery That Your Baby Is Not Colicky And Putting You Through The Paces For Hours And Hours (And More Hours) Of Unconsolable Crying" -- or "TTGBLTYBINCAPYTTPFHAH(AMH)OUC" babies, for ease of reference.
So, on Saturday evening, my TTGBLTYBINCAPYTTPFHAH(AMH)OUC baby woke up from a nap around 6:00 pm. I nursed Baby, changed Baby, and nursed Baby again until he appeared contentedly replete. Soon, instead of drifting off into a milk coma, Baby began to cry, a great heaving sob and wail of a cry with a just a dash of what seemed like shouting.
Baby's diaper was clean and dry. He was full and uninterested in nursing again. I was cuddling him as much as he would let me in mid-wail. What then? I admit that I frequently (albeit irrationally) ask him what is wrong at these moments, and then I start to repeat that everything is okay and that there is no need to cry.
But sometimes there is a need to cry. The truth is that my ability to withstand Baby's crying diminishes as the day progresses. Gradually, the brilliance of whatever calming powers I once commanded fades. And by, oh, let's say 8:12 pm, if Baby is screaming in my ear, and I have no idea how to make him feel better, I am shedding a few tears of my own.
So it was on Saturday. Baby wailing. I, Momma In Training, holding Baby, trying to comfort him and to hide my own tears. Then, in a moment of desperation known only to those who have cared for a newborn, I whispered ever so quietly to Baby, "Please stop." And he did.
Not only did he stop, but he fell into the holy grail known to parents as Deep Sleep.
Gentle miracle granted by The Great Baby Lottery?
Baby's stern desire to make me use the magic word?
I have no explanation. Not even a hypothesis.
To all the Mommas In Training out there, I offer this story to highlight the occasional tragicomic absurdity of our circumstances. I raise my glass to all of you and your Babies, TTGBLTYBINCAPYTTPFHAH(AMH)OUC or otherwise. Here's to doing the best we can. Cheers.