I'm currently on a quest to find my old baby girl. You know, the sweet, mellow one I mentioned a few times before; the one who only cries when she's hungry, gassy, or needs her diaper changed. Yeah, that one.
I have no idea where she's gone.
The baby I now have is feisty (could she have learned it from me?) and wakes up screeching for milk, and digs her fingernails (I swear those things grow overnight!) into my chest when I try to burp her, and arches her back and screams for me to leave her the heck alone because all she wants is more milk.
Yes, this is my new daughter. This is the daughter I spent the night soothing. This is the daughter I found myself telling: "Listen, who's the mom here, me or you? Who pushed who out? Stop the madness and let me burp you already."
Right now she's resting soundly on a boppy right by me. She's swaddled and is happily sucking on her pacifier. (thank God for the person who invented those things!) Still, every once in a while she spits it out of her mouth and starts looking for a nearby boob. So, I pick her up to feed her but as soon as she gets a drop of milk in her mouth she falls into a deep slumber. . . and so it goes.
I love this daughter just as much as I loved my old daughter, but DANG! Babies are supposed to be jolly and cuddly and giggly and googly.
I guess those first few weeks were just too good to be true.
I won't give up hope though. As my mother always says, "Hope springs eternal."
My old daughter may be hidden underneath that moody facade somewhere. I hope to someday see her again.
In the meantime, I'm gonna go grab the claw clippers and get this baby's daggers under control.
30 minutes after I finished this post baby produced a poopy diaper that seemed to be the solution to all of her fussiness. Thank God for poopy diapers! (phew!)