here's the story of a gassy baby...

One of my favorite things about being a mom are the cuddle sessions. Snuggling up in bed and watching him sleep or eat or absorb his surroundings with those big, inquisitive eyes. Those moments are moments I've come to live for, cuddling with Ethan and watching as he touches my cheek or grips onto my finger as he's falling asleep. The sound of his soft breathing, his gentle sighs.

Yes, it's safe to say I live for those moments.

...Today, however, was nearly altogether lacking those moments.

For ten glorious, relaxing, beautiful minutes before six o'clock this evening, we cuddled. He giggled. We practiced rolling over and read stories and sang songs. Oh, how the day began looking up. Thunder rumbled outside and I felt safe and warm, huddled up in bed and watching his eyes scan his surroundings and absorb them like a sponge.

Then it began. Again. The most god-awful, ear-splitting screams. The ones unable to be stifled. No amount of singing songs or Ergo walks or warm spongebaths can stop them from sending all four of our cats running under the bed for cover. The culprit? Gas. And lots of it.

Of all the exercises and Little Tummy's drops and belly massages out there, there is one thing that works to dry up those bright, blue eyes (did I mention how heartbreaking it is that he cries with tears now? Real, salty tears?): a car ride. I made the mistake of enabling this dependency on my car by taking advantage of the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru and the easy access it provides for my morning coffee. The crying turns into a whimper as I buckle him into his carseat. Once we're in the garage and he sees the car, his entire demeanor changes. By the time his carseat clicks into the base? He's all smiles. Jackpot!

Let's just say that I have spent the majority of my day taking car rides around the block. Barefoot, frazzled, tears streaming down my own cheeks, Johnny Cash's lullaby CD playing through the speakers. At some point in the afternoon, my mom and sister stopped by. They didn't find me at home, but frantically driving around the block for the fifth time. Literally. The fifth time. It was noon.

It became almost comical when I pulled into the garage and turned off the ignition. Ethan was fast asleep in the backseat. Before I could unbuckle my seatbelt, he began wailing. I turned the ignition back on and slowly began to reverse down the driveway. I peeked into the mirror and saw a content, happy (albeit spoiled) baby peering back at me. He couldn't be happier.

Adding on to the "if there's one thing I learned about motherhood" list, it's that every day is it's own. In the past, I've let a bad day drag on and somehow engulf my entire week in it's negativity. Motherhood has robbed me from the ability to dwell which is a blessing totally void of it's disguise. Motherhood has left me unable to contrast and compare my days or moods, but simply get through them all and await what the next day has to offer.

...Though I'll own up to the fact that I'm crossing my fingers and toes that tomorrow holds absolutely no car rides.


  1. If he loves the rumbling of the engine and the gentle vibrations, try placing the carseat on top of the dryer. It worked, on most days, for Michael.

    Hope he doesn't have another gas attack.

  2. Have you tried putting...haha, I just came here to say the exact same thing as Analilia!!

    So sorry you both are going through this. :(


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