I couldn't love anything more than my little boy. Like I said in my last letter, he warms my heart like Christmas and hot coco, and when he smiles at me just because he sees my face I am transformed into Super Mom — not only can I do everything for him, I will. I will leap buildings in half a bound, and withstand nuclear radiation. I will even get out of bed in the middle of the night from a dead sleep to sooth his cries.
However, and I hate to admit this, I am truly exhausted by my child. Since he was born, his intensity and unpredictability has left me feeling drained, even literally when he would breastfeed for hours without seeming satisfied. I'm sad to say I hardly remember anything of his first few weeks through the veil of the post partum fog and his demanding needs. I felt inadequate all the time because he seemed to need more of me than I had.
I assumed this was how all new parents felt — completely spent. But when that feeling carried on through the first month, second month, and now all the way through to the fifth, I started to wonder if this was business as usual. I saw other babies close in age to Riley and was confused. They put their heads down on their parent's shoulders and didn't constantly squirm when held. They could sit on their own for a while and not fuss. Other parent's seemed to be able to actually accomplish things, whereas I was always afraid to even start a chore or project while Riley was awake knowing he would inevitably begin screaming while I was elbow deep in laundry or yarn, or while he was asleep, knowing he would inevitably be woken up by even the tiniest sound. I was also baffled when friends with babies were able to keep their child with them in a church service, or when a mother was able to go out without frantic calls from her husband to come home because the baby wouldn't stop screaming.
I think my mind was really blown when I visited my friend Becca's house for a knitting/crochet group and she sat her baby, almost 4 months old, in her Bumbo, with a toy and proceeded to knit for a good 15 to 20 minutes without her fussing. Was this really possible? And then, when she did start to fuss, the noises she made were so quite, so subdued. She was clearly upset, but it was in such a laid back way, I was confused. And when she began to full out cry, well, compared to Riley, she seemed downright content. She didn't cry like she was dying, her screams didn't pierce the night air and make neighbors wonder if a cat was dying. So I started to wonder what was up with Riley. Don't all babies act like their world is ending four or five times a day?
Apparently not. I, of course, turned to the internet and learned the term "High Need Baby." Dr. Sears' website describes high need babies in detail, here: http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/fussy-baby/high-need-baby/12-features-high-need-baby. In short, high need babies fit the following descriptions:
Intense, hyperactive, draining, feeds frequently, demanding, awakens frequently, unsatisfied, unpredictable, super-sensitive, not a self-soother and separation sensitive.
That all describes Riley perfectly, I have to say, and, frankly, it makes him hard to parent. I still feel inadequate most of the time, not knowing what Riley wants and needs most of the time. He doesn't want to cuddle, he is almost constantly unsatisfied and this baby WILL NOT sleep for me. I love him more than anything, but as the days go by, I'm becoming almost depressed at the prospect of trying to take care of him. It seems impossible. When he's happy, it's sunshine and roses, but if something is off, there is hell to pay if you can't figure it out.
I don't have one picture from the Thanksgiving holiday because from the moment we left Springfield, it took almost all of our energy to keep Riley from crying — and sometimes not even that would work. I think he screamed more than he didn't. He didn't want to sleep, sit still, or be held by anyone but me or Ryan. It was the most trying five days of my life and the entire time I just kept thinking, "Why can't Riley be more like Becca's baby? Why can't he be laid back? Why can't be be quiet? Why can't he just be calm for a few minutes?"
And then I realized I'm being unfair. I'm torturing myself by wishing Riley was a different baby. But I don't want a different baby. I want Riley, and Riley is exactly what I need. I know myself. If I have the opportunity to be lazy, I will take it. If Riley allowed me to ignore him for a while, I think I probably would. But God knew that and he sent me a baby that he knew would make me work, that would not let me take the easy way out. I have to stop making things harder on myself by expecting Riley to act a way that's contrary to his personality. I want to learn to accept my beautiful, erratic, silly, unpredictable and, yes, draining baby, for who he is, and also learn to parent him the way he needs and teach him patience. But I'm so exhausted and drained, I have a hard time.
I just want to be able to remember that if Riley was different, he wouldn't be Riley. And how could I want anyone else but my sweet, sweet Riley?
My two have also been high-need. So much of your post resonates with me! It's hard, but oh my gosh, do they ever grow into amazing little people.
ReplyDeleteMy door is always open if you need to rant/cry/whatever. *hugs*
(this is Laura O. in case that wasn't obvious (; )