Today we had ‘one of those days’ with Isaac. He slept for too many hours, and when he woke up he was gassy and cranky and just would not feed, and we were worried that he wasn’t getting enough food because it had been six hours since his last feeding, we even pulled out the gripewater (which, of course, worked), and both of us started to drift into a blue funk, until he finally after much coersion started to feed again, and is now happily napping as both of us come undone at the seams. This was all put into context for me as I was going through all the bottles and stuff from Eli, trying to figure out what we need, what needs sanitation, etc. etc., and I came across this little bag filled with a number of arcane contraptions that it took me a few moments to recognize: Eli was so difficult to get breast feeding in the beginning, that we had to feed him down a feeding tube with a syringe. That’s right, a feeding tube. In contrast, Isaac is a damned champ and we need to keep our perspectives.
Of course, we aren’t THAT freaked out — he is doing very well, and we’re seasoned veterans. Really, it’s just that general frustration as you bring your baby to the breast for the 50th time in the last 2 hours, and you’ve taken off all his clothes, wetted down his head with a damp wash cloth to wake him up, and trying to figure out how to get him to calm down enough to actually latch on and start sucking.
And it’s all just a reminder — it’s hard trying to come into this world, and the difficulties don’t end at birth. It’s a gradual ramp-up, just like the end of life can be a gradual ramp-down into the grave, having our systems fail us one by one. Life is cyclical, and it takes time to adjust to the transitions.