As I read back through the archives of Lydia's first year of life, I can't help but remember how completely and totally overwhelmed I was with all of her neediness.
It took me a good 8 months before I would even begin to refer to her as a colic infested baby. To the best of my knowledge, colicky babies cried every day, for a certain number of hours, and at about the same time every day.
Lydia screamed. A lot. But there wasn't any sort of pattern or routine to it. She seemed mostly to pick the time of day that I had both my hands and arms full to start her screaming. And, like any good mother, I'd drop what I was doing and try my best to figure out what was wrong with her. Sometimes I could fix it. Most of the time I was completely and totally clueless. Carrying her around in my beloved Beco carrier was the best chance I had to get her to shut the fuck up. And even then, sometimes that didn't help.
As it turned out, I was doing everything right, to the best of my ability, and my poor, sweet child had one raging case of colic that would stick with us for more then 15 months.
Oh, the joys!
When the colic started to taper off, the clingy Only Mommy Will Do stage came into its own. I couldn't be out of her sight. Every time I changed rooms, Lydia would change rooms with me. I didn't really mind, for the most part, because at least she wasn't screaming anymore.
Now it seems like we've taken a whole 'nother turn for the better. I wrote the other day about how well she did with a friend baby sitting her. She didn't engage this friend very much, but she didn't scream that terrible scream, either. So, shocked as I was-- I took it and ran with it.
Today Jeremy's parents flew into the Arctic Tundra for a visit. Last time we saw them was 20 months ago. Lydia was 4 months old and well into her colic phase. She screamed the entire time. I don't even have pictures of Lydia with her grandparents for the first visit because I was too busy apologizing for the ghastly screaming and trying my best to make it stop.
As my girls stood at the airport, signs in hand, waiting for their grandparents to come out of the terminal, I hoped this visit would far beat out the last.
I didn't have to wait long.
If that isn't a sign that God loves me, then I don't know what is.
Yes. This is going to be a great week, indeed. Thank you, God.