Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Baby Scares Mom

Chasing after Oliver all day was exhausting, and I was glad to get a nice shower in last night. I closed my eyes and stood in the middle of the stream so that everything I felt and heard was the water. It reminded me of the showers I took when Oliver was just weeks old. He'd cry and wail all day long; the only "break" we got from the cries was our showers. I remembered how I'd feel guilty while I showered, knowing Andrew was with the crier while I got to destress. Then I'd remind myself just to enjoy my few minutes, as he'd get his break, too. Ah, the joys of showering. I let the water run over my face another minute before I turned to get my shampoo.

I turned, opened my eyes, and saw a face. I screamed. I screamed bloody murder. It wasn't the high-pitched scream you hear in the movies; it was a long, low roar. I screamed hard. That's when I realized it was Oliver. My heart sunk as his face crumpled. Andrew had stuck Oliver's head through the shower curtain as a joke, and I probably just scarred my son for life. Andrew quickly took Oliver away to try to calm him. I heard Oliver sobbing. I quickly finished my shower and leapt out to help calm him. Once Oliver saw me, his sobs increased to wails. It took us about half an hour to calm him enough to stop crying. Andrew's hands were shaking from my scream. Both of us felt so guilty, so awful.

We snuggled Oliver the rest of the evening. During his bedtime routine, we read his stories quietly, calmly. He seemed to do OK. By 7:45pm, when it was time to go to sleep, he seemed like his happy self. Until 10pm, when he woke up, screaming. Nothing could calm him. Finally, we took him to bed with us. It's the first time we've ever really done that, but we were desperate. I nursed him next to me, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep. About twenty minutes later, he was tossing in the bed and making complaining noises. Andrew brought him back to his crib, where he slept for a couple of hours, until the same thing happened. We went through that cycle three times before Andrew finally got up with the poor baby at 5:45am.

I feel so bad for our Ollie Bear. Do you think we could have caused some permanent, psychological damage? Thankfully, he doesn't seem afraid of me. In fact, he doesn't want me out of his sight... much more so than usual. Poor baby.

No comments: