I can't really deny that this is hard sometimes. She screamed for nearly two housr yesterday evening, in her crib, in her sleep, before beginning to snore softly. I love her. Fiercely, of course; I'm her mother. An hour or two is sufferable. The longest I've known her to scream for is nine weeks. So I can tolerate an hour quite easily. Right?
I found out quite recently that the world stops when your baby gets sick. It's something like frog-swimming, I think; you surface every once in a while to take a breath and you probably find yourself surprised that the old world, the one from the day before that you've all but forgotten already, still exists, scattered all over the house. I was once concerned with inane details like the expiry date on the meat I bought yesterday? I bought meat yesterday? The power bill is coming due? Who has time to think about these things?
And it's not to say that she's dangerously ill; I can't imagine what other mothers go through, other parents, when their children come down with worse than bad colds and little viruses. How do they find the strength to emerge and breathe?
Ok, good night.
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