I know my mom is going to read this and then call me tomorrow and say, "so you had a bad day?" like that Daniel Powter song...

Things are fine - really - but I do want to be honest in this blog and I also want to document our life and use this as a forum to vent and get it all out, so, here goes...

Tonight was rough, hell, today was rough. Unfortunately, it looks like my sweet boy has issues that are proving to be very similar to Bridget's even though they took longer to manifest themself. I think the hardest thing for me about this is not understanding the why/what/how/when scenario. It's such an up and down roller coaster of emotions. One day I feel like I have it completely together and we have a routine and I can deal with his "fussiness" and then the next I am a crazy mom googling things like, "8 week old won't sleep", "8 week old needs to be held constantly", "8 week old overstimulated" and the dreaded, "colic symptoms".

Yesterday I finally called the doctor after it became increasingly apparent that the Mylanta we were trying to help with his "crying spells" and fussing was not working. "Oh, yeah, these things run in families" she laughed. I politely giggled, but I think I was crying on the inside. What? What about the cosmic balance of one difficult baby, one breeze baby? What about that? Everyone had said surely we wouldn't have the same issues and, to be fair, we didn't... at first. But I had never heard of the "run in families" fussy baby phenomenon - fair warning to you all! Our doc upped us to Pepcid (the same thing baby girl was on not even two years ago for acid reflux). After one dose yesterday, he had the calmest evening in weeks. I was optimistic, I thought we had found the cause and I was so glad to fix his crying and inability to lay down and sleep. I thought he would be a happier, more playful little baby boy that I can tell he so wants to be... and then came today. As I sit here now, he has been sleeping for 20 minutes which is longer than any stretch of sleep thus far today. I feel like I literally spent the whole day patting, shooshing and swaddling to no avail. I moved from room to room with my fussy, non-sleeping baby all day. I'm not even sure how it got to be 9:51 right now.

So, baby Shane, I want to let you know I love you a lot, but this time with you is definitely challenging and mostly because I just wish I could make you better when you have your crying fits. In fact, it gives me flashbacks to how it was with your sister, too, and having those same feelings. However, that in and of itself is comforting because, until recently, I did not remember the bad things. The big difference is this time I know it will get better and I know it will be okay, but right now I am admitting that this is hard and that I don't always do well with this stuff. I want to make you better, I want to make you happy and it hurts when I can't.

I wish I was the type of person that could just carry him around the house all day and night, but I'm not. I need time away, I need a break and days like this with no break and screaming that lasted from about 5pm through 9:30pm just really really suck. Save for throwing a dirty poopy diaper at tpd's head, there's been little lightheartedness in the Delant household tonight, but we know this too shall pass, especially this weekend when we leave this little bundle of joy with grandma and grandpa - I bet you can't wait for that now, can you?