He woke up happy this morning, which is quite rare when you consider the sum of his mornings since birth. He actually talked to himself for a few minutes, muttering grunts and sloppy tongue babbling sounds before cranking up the high pitch I-need-milk cry.
Poor kid has a rough eleven months. While he certainly has had moments of contentment and moments of giggles and smiles, our Leo has cried a lot. And we have guessed a lot, going back and forth about why and how and what can be done for our little man. Kari went off dairy. And soy for a time. Even citrus for a brief stint. We have consulted Google and our Doctor. We have let him cry it out during the day, sometimes out of desperation and other times to see if, perhaps, it might somehow help him. We have cried. Walked away. Given up. Started over. Tinkered with nap times. Changed the kind of dish soap we use to wash bottles. Given him multiple baths a day because it was the one thing he seemed to enjoy. Tried different foods. I once dressed him for consecutive days without pants because I wondered if his pants were somehow too tight and bothering his stomach. We made a family rule that if Leo was happy, Stella wasn't allowed to mess with him. Let him be, let him be, we'd sing to the tune of the Beatles.
We told ourselves things would turn around at eight weeks. And then we said three months. And then six. By six months, we'd say, he'll be less colicky. And then it was a year. Surely a year, right?
At some point along the way we stopped guessing. He's growing. Getting stronger. Smarter. This is what matters, we told ourselves. And we let go. Accept the whining. Accept thirty minute naps. Accept holding him to your back feels like jello. Accept not getting the dishes done or the room cleaned. Accept not eating lunch.
One day, he'll turn the corner. Whenever that may be.
And then, out of no where, at ten months and change there was nearly a cry free day. And then another. And then there was a week where there were more smiles than tears. And then there was the moment a few weeks back in our living room when he did something that hadn't been done before. He crawled away from us. It felt like a miracle. We looked at each other in shock and clapped for him and quietly wondered if our sweet little boy really was turning the corner.
We played with blocks today. I'd build them up and he'd excitedly tear them down. While I cleaned bottles and vacuumed the kitchen, he spent almost an hour digging through our recycling. He ate without grunting. Took two long naps. We played games with his lovey George before I put him down for the night and he was practically falling off his rocker in hysteria.
He even let me take out the camera for a few minutes...