Missives continue to pour forth from South Dakota, where Big Daddy Whitebeard and his ol' lady, Sue, continue to whimper about a lack of updates to Max's blog. One must assume that in their luxuriant grandparenthood they have misplaced their memories of exactly how much time a baby demands, especially one such as Max, who though loveable is fussy. He does not deal well with being put down by himself. He needs to be near, and even then doesn't sleep as much as all the experts say babies sleep. Not even close. Which means we continue not to sleep much either, though it must be revealed that Garnette suffers more than me in this aspect. Because although I can take him off her hands, she has the power (actually a pair of powers) to soothe him. Mostly.
So we've been leaning hard on Kim and Todd for advice and emotional support, and reading a lot on Dr Sears' website. Dr Sears has a section about fussy babies, how some babies are simply wired differently and do not transition well from womb to world, from wake to sleep. Max does however transition quite well from quiet to loud. In fact, by Dr Sears' measure of high need babies, Max fits every marker nearly perfectly. He just needs love and attention. We can do that. I think. This morning I asked if there were any convents nearby where we could drop him off in a basket. Ha ha.
Few photos these days. There's not much to take photos of anyway except more of crying baby and of tattered parents.
And yet through this veil of desperate exhaustion we know there are good days as well as bad. The good days are great. His smiles are fantastic. Even when he wets 4 or 5 outfits in a 6 hour span, a baby smile can make all the shit worthwhile. But still it's tiresome. Stress filled. Exhausting.
Garnette got a nap today when he finally collapsed in the sling (the only place he really relaxes) for 3 hours or so. Later she told me she dreamed that she was helping a friend of ours with her baby. She was having Garnette help her "express" milk from the breast. Garnette was milking her friend. And the milk poured forth as from a tap. Considering the troubles we've had in this area, such dreams are horror and humor rolled into one. Just like real life.