Something has happened to my baby. Something unpleasant and foul-smelling and back breaking. It may or may not be The Dreaded Reflux and I have a doctor appointment tomorrow morning to find out.
At first I was all, "NAW. It's not REFLUX! Where's the screaming? Where's the no-sleeping? Where's the unholy misery that tortures every parent of a Reflux Baby on the internet?! What are you? A FIRST TIMER?"
But then there was today, and while there was still no screaming there was a WHOLE LOT of not-sleeping and a touch of unholy misery. I think I held this kid about four hours straight this afternoon, with the only pauses being the moments I set her down to hose the spit up off both our shirts. This is the gassiest, burpiest, barfiest, most tooty baby we've had and perhaps I'm just stymied. I don't know what to do with this squirmy unhappy creature. So I pat. I pat her back, I pat her bottom, and we bounce up and down, all over the house. We did this today until I thought I might lose my mind - this may or may not have had something to do with the two preschool terrors fighting nonstop in the background. I decided to call the pediatrician with two minutes left to spare, and scored us an appointment for the morning. The internet informs me that Emma may have MILD reflux, and if that's the case, let's just stick her on some baby antacids and get this fixed. Am I right?
I still want to Check Myself, though, because I know - I KNOW - this is not REAL reflux. REAL reflux terrifies me to my very soul. Everyone's read a blog or two written by the parent of a Reflux Baby, right? The sleep deprivation, the undereye circles, the sore carrying-a-shrieking-baby muscles pervade every sentence. These moms have frightened me to my very core. And when one of them said to me, "You know, they might not be screaming one day, but the next day their esophagus might have finally reached its limit and THEN the screaming will begin" - THAT is when I called the doctor. SPARE ME FROM THE REFLUX, UNIVERSE.
In other news, the big kids have been fighting nonstop. "Jack won't stop singing my song!" "Molly was sitting in my seat!" "I wanted the blue fork!" "That's MY Halloween candy basket!" "But I wanted that car!" "I don't WANT to watch Jack's show!" On and on until I consider stabbing both my eardrums with a chopstick. During the pre-dinner witching hour today, betwen the constant bickering and the baby who would not be put down, I sort of lost it. "GO TO YOUR ROOMS!" I screeched, which is a bit ineffective when they SHARE a room. But I forced them into separate corners, slammed the door, and went to take a time out of my own.
I passed the next five minutes unloading on an internet friend, the kind who tells me to have wine for dinner (ie: the best kind). Five minutes later I was calmed down enough to go check on the big kids and GUESS WHAT. They were both passed out in bed. Apparently we are ALL overtired these days.
It just hasn't been a good one. I'm tired. I'm covered in baby barf. I'm a little anxious about the baby. I'm exhausted from breaking up all the stupid little fights. AND I've gone off carbs. Excellent timing!
Now you will tell me about your most recent bad days. Bonus points if they involve copious amounts of baby barf and/or arguments over a couch pillow, which happens to be one of four identical couch pillows GAH.