A few evenings ago, Jill was awakened in the middle of the night because someone spit up all over the bedsheets in their sleep.
That someone was me. I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me, and the Pepcid I took before bed proved insufficient for the task.
Nathaniel slept soundly through the night, as he does almost every night.
But spit-up? Seriously? I'm nearly forty. And it's a bit embarrassing, as a near-forty-year-old, to not even be the lowest-maintenance "baby" in the house.
Then again, in other respects it's a lot better when it's me than him. When something's wrong with me, I can self-regulate, and I can usually understand what it is and communicate what I need. Nathaniel, of course, lacks those capacities. So on the rare occasions when he does start crying without a clear cause, Jill and I just sort of haphazardly throw comfort-ideas at him in the hopes that something sticks (pick him up, put him down, leave the room, stay in the room, stay just outside the room but in eyeshot, give him toys, try to give a nap, feed him, change him, burp him ... it goes on).
The other day, Nathaniel had probably his worst meltdown since he was born -- even worse than vaccine day. The day started normal, except that he was unusually uninterested in his bottle (normally he takes it with no trouble whatsoever). But he was cheery enough as the day progressed, so I didn't think much of it. We have our next door neighbor's kid come over once a week to watch Nathaniel (we stay home, it just lets us catch up on work or chores or sleep), and when we passed him off to her Nathaniel started crying. Even that isn't too unusual -- he'll usually cry for a minute or so on such a handoff -- but this time it didn't really stop. To her credit, the sitter tried everything she could think of (playing, bouncing, carrying, music), until eventually I suggested maybe we try to put him down for a nap.
Bzzt. Dad guessed wrong, and Nathaniel absolutely blew up. Crying turned into flat out hysterical screaming, and finally I pushed the big red abort button and got Jill. Mom managed after a lot of cuddles and soothing to calm Nathaniel down and eventually get him to sleep, and we let the sitter go home early.
We still aren't sure what set him off. Right now, our best guess is a mix of separation anxiety and an upset stomach (he took a mega-poop shortly after the sitter left), that sort of fed on itself until he spiraled. But we're not sure, and of course we never will know for sure. What we do know is that there's little that's more awful than seeing your kiddo uncontrollably upset and not knowing how to help him. Even when you're pretty sure it's nothing (and we did take his temperature and check for anything that might be causing pain or discomfort), it's still awful -- though I'm thankful it was nothing, since it'd be far worse if it was caused by something.
Oh, and lest anyone worry -- he was back to better after his nap. And today we discovered that he really likes beer ads (at least in fine art form). So there's that.
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